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-Gramps-

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  1. -Gramps-

    25 Years Ago, Part 2

    By -Gramps-,

    I wrote the story about Wayne two or three years ago, maybe longer. I don't really remember when I wrote it to tell you the truth. I wrote it in response to a young lady who was a member of a Medal of Honor online gaming clan who posted a request for prayer on our clan forums. Her fiance had just been killed in a car accident and she was devastated. The story was originally addressed to her. Shannon was her name. For the most part that was the end of it until two days ago. That was when I got the urge to post it on my FMCA blog. Which I did, yesterday afternoon just before Diane and I left for a local church event.
    It's funny how things work out sometimes..
    Twenty Five Years Ago, This Month, Part Two.
    As of last night there is a definite connection between being a coach owner and what happened twenty five years ago. Twenty five years ago the 24th of this month to be exact.
    A week or so ago Janis and Gary our twin coach owners invited us to a special event at their church. It is a walk through play called Judgment House. This is a nationally sponsored play that takes place in many churches around the nation, but the subject of the play usually is based on some local tragic event. This event is used to illustrate and dramatize the final consequences of the choices, some good and some bad, that people make. We agreed to attend one of the performances of this play. I did not know much of anything about this play until the day we went, yesterday, last night to be exact.
    The subject of this drama was a bit of a shock to me.
    The play was called the Arlene Jones Story.
    This was the same Arlene that was my friend Wayne's girlfriend and fiance.
    Not knowing what to expect, I was not sure I could watch it all. I decided, since I try not to believe in coincidences, that for some reason, it was meant for me to see this play, so I made up my mind, took a deep breath and drove us to the church where we were met by Gary in the parking lot at about 4:45 in the afternoon. He took us into the staging area, the church gymnasium, and it was packed. I had heard that due to a wave of word of mouth that as many as 1400 to 1500 people were waiting to see the performance each night.
    I didn't think anybody even remembered the event. I had tried to forget it. But here I was, standing in line and a few minutes later, sitting in the middle of a church gym, feeling a bit uncomfortable, waiting with Diane and Gary in a crowd of chatting people, none of whom I knew at all, for our names to be called and then to observe a reenactment of what I thought was a completely senseless, and meaningless event. An event that cost me a good friend and, my first business.
    After a few minutes of just sitting there, with my left leg bouncing nervously, I began to feel uncomfortable, a lot. I started looking for the closest exit..just in case I needed it.
    We had some time to wait, so Diane and Gary got up to buy some popcorn at a concession stand in the back of the gym. This was the perfect time for me to make a dash for it. To leave this play before the memories that might come flooding back caused me to squirm, over heat, be ill, maybe even throw up or worse yet have a big nasty panic attack (and I have had them before), which would really make me do all the above.
    I didn't leave; instead I got up and moved to the back row, and sat down next to a man a bit younger than myself, with a name tag on, who was engaged in a rather animated conversation, and waited for a chance to introduce myself.
    While standing in line to sign up for the play I had overheard a conversation between one of the staffers and one of the attendees. From that conversation I learned that the son of Arlene was sitting in the back of the gym. His name was OC and now I was sitting next to him.
    It became apparent that, reluctantly for him, he was now a bit of a church celebrity. Ladies of the church both young and old kept coming up and introducing themselves. I patiently waited for a chance to tell him who I was.
    He turned to me and I put out my hand and told him that I was Derrick Parker, that I knew his mother and that Wayne had worked with me. He looked very surprised. We, with some two or three interruptions, had a short but extremely important conversation. Details that I had heard over the years, some big, some not, were verified, some corrected. I told OC things he didn't know and he did the same for me.
    I learned that the killer only killed himself after accidentally wounding himself with his own ricochet bullets from the fireplace in the living room. Once he knew he could not catch the boys, and escape from the scene, he finished himself off. OC learned that I had seen his Mom just a few days before at the trade show, and that I had tried to get Wayne to bring her to dinner on the night that they were both killed. His response was it just wasn't in the cards for them to live.
    I think then I realized that we both had been hurt, were still hurting...a lot more than we, or maybe just me, knew.
    OC told me that he would still be there after I went through the play and to come see him if I wanted to talk some more. I responded "okay".
    I wasn't sure that I would talk to him again. I wasn't sure I could even make it through the play.
    But I did.
    I don't think I can describe it that well for you. If I was an official theater critic, I could tell you that the play was a bit amateurish at times. I could tell you the concept of walking from room to room and seeing various scenes of Arlene's life and death play out, even the graphic ones, were interesting and effective, but for me it was not at all about how well the scenery and props looked or how well the actors performed. For me it was about something going on inside of me.
    I was watching the play, but I was also somewhere else at the same time. I was back in my office on the last day that I saw Wayne alive, or I was back in my kitchen when I got the terrible phone call, or I was in my car, miserably driving to an appointment that Wayne should have been keeping.
    At the end of the play is a scene of Heaven and of ****.I remembered my own private **** that I was in after Wayne's death and it was then I realized I had never really left it.
    I also realized the loss of Mike had only made it worse.
    I walked out of the last room, the last scene of the play and while my wife waited in the car, I went to find OC.
    I found him standing along the side of the gym, up against the wall, surrounded by a bunch of young ladies. Once again I waited patiently for a chance to speak to him.
    "What did you think?" he asked.
    "I think your Mother and Wayne would both have approved" I responded. "They would have appreciated some good coming out of that night."
    And then I said something I didn't mean to say.
    "Because Lord knows I haven't seen any good before now"
    OC looked hard at me, and then leaned in closer.
    "I haven't either, not for twenty five years, not until this week."
    Then I told him about losing Mike. That this was my second time losing a friend and partner.
    Then he wrapped his arms around me and said "Maybe this will give you some closure. It finally has, for me."
    He was only fifteen when he lost his Mom and the man that would have become his step father. He loved them both. Years before that he lost his father and yet now he could hug me and hope that I would finally be healed of my hurt. His concern for me broke my heart.
    He let go. I stood there with tears in my eyes. I could hardly speak but I managed to give him my card and said I would like to keep in touch.
    "That would be great, how about we go to lunch and just talk sometime? Would you like that?"
    "Oh yea, I really would."
    Then he was once again surrounded by others and I quietly walked to the car. I asked Diane to drive us to dinner, where we had a quiet conversation over soup and sandwich. I hate to admit it to my Baptist friends but I really wanted a beer.
    It was during dinner and over a short draft, that I realized a long string of events had led up to this moment. It started with a purchase of a Bounder that had a simple brake failure that led to a test drive that led to buying a particular coach, that led to a nice married couple contacting us with questions about the same coach, which led to a friendship that helped with one recent loss, and now...
    Now I realized that God had orchestrated something bigger; he used my RV and the RV world to provide the means to have many friends, but two in particular named Gary and Janis who without knowing it, were used by Him to open a scarred over twenty five year old wound that had never really had the chance to heal....until now.
    Now faith renews and the healing begins.
    Derrick
  2. -Gramps-

    Route 89

    By -Gramps-,

    It has been a peaceful two weeks since May 22, the day we left our brick house in Portsmouth. Once again we had to take our coach on the road for service before we could actually start our first long trip this year. The coach hasn’t been parked the whole time since our last long venture, which took place last September, I think. We made a fall trip to our spot at Deer Creek Motor Coach resort (the one in Virginia). I left Diane there while I made a trip back home in the car for work-related reasons (why else would I leave the mountains?).
    In October, we hoped to make a trip to Asheville, North Carolina, to celebrate our fortieth wedding anniversary, but that didn’t work out, so we decided to go to Cape Hatteras, instead. We had a beautiful three days out of a planned seven, and then an uninvited guest named Sandy decided to crash our party. We had to pack up the coach and flee … as fast as we could. If we had stayed and tried to ride out a storm with an unpredictable potential for damage, we would have been stuck there for months; at least our coach would have been.
    We dropped the coach off at North River campground, which was the site of our next two group campouts, and then jumped in the car and made it home. Fortunately for us, Sandy decided that Portsmouth was not worth her time to visit. We sat in front of the TV, glad that we escaped all the wet, windy, destruction but at the same time feeling very sad for the people of New England.
    Between November and March we camped one weekend a month with either our Good Sam’s chapter or our FMCA chapter friends. This included two Christmas parties and three trips back to North River Campground (located near the Great Dismal Swamp) one to Roanoke Rapids, North Carolina, and one to the Virginia Beach oceanfront. They were easy fun trips. Our close friends Gary and Janis, who relocated their coach back in Elizabeth City, were there with us which made the trips extra special.
    One of the great highlights of our last group campout was the fact that my brother Rod and his wife Sharon joined us with their brand-new 26-foot Forest River travel-trailer. It is a very nice rig, I might add. They love it, and Picard, their Saint Bernard, does too.
    April and May were dedicated to using the weekends to shop for parts and materials to refurbish our kitchen. That project left very little energy for motor coaching. We christened our almost finished new kitchen with a special Mother’s Day/Joel’s Birthday Brunch. I did all the cooking…which consisted of a really good French Toast Casserole, Spinach Quiche, and a fresh fruit including bannans, blueberries, strawberries, (I forget the grapes) and strawberry-honey flavored yogurt salad.
    During the week of May15 our new Kitchen floor was installed and then all was done. Now, we really had the bug to hit the road again.
    We needed to get the coach inspected, and it needed an oil change. On the way to the service facility I discovered that the dash air was on the fritz again. It was a hot day and all it did was blow nice, warm air. I hoped that all it needed was a bit of Freon, but it turned out to be a much bigger problem than that so we made an appointment to visit Terry Labonte RV service. The guys there always take good care of us and our unusual Workhorse chassis.
    We arrived at Terry Labonte's lot late in the day, spent the night, and the next morning the techs discovered that we needed a new compressor, which they had in stock. They had the coach repaired by five that afternoon, so we spent another night in the lot, had Chick-Fil- A for dinner, and hit the road early the next morning.
    This all brings us to the afternoon of Friday the 24, when we climbed up Route 89 to Edmonds Road and then soon arrived at our beautiful lot at Deer Creek. It was a bit rainy and cold, but we didn’t care a bit. Early the next day I received a last minute invite to play golf with three friends (including my good friend Gordy) at the Blue Ridge Country club.
    I didn't play as well as I would have liked but I have improved since the last time I played the same course, so I guess I am moving in the right direction. Gordy said so and his opinion is very valuable.
    The next eight days provided a lot of opportunities to do a lot of things we enjoy. We made a few day trips to the small towns we love to visit around here including Galax, Sparta, Mt. Airy, West Jefferson, and Elkin. Each town has its own personality and things we like.
    Galax had a fifties car show which was fun. While there we made a run to Lowes buy some small parts for the coach including parts to mount my Z-Boost cell booster antenna.
    Sparta is an artist community with art galleries, good places to eat and clothing stores with squeaky wooden floors. We found some great clothing bargains there.
    West Jefferson is a very quaint and pretty place with a cheese factory and factory cheese shop located downtown along with an old classic movie house that shows first run movies for five bucks. There is a great old hardware store with a creaky wood floor where I found and purchased a handsome red handled Case pocket knife. The people of West Jefferson are some of the friendliest you will meet anywhere. We had lunch there, sitting outside with Teddy Bear. We devoured Bar-B-Que sandwiches, potato salad and fresh apple pie with ice cream for 7 bucks each. Remember, you can’t have good southern Bar-B-Que without sweet tea to go with it. That is a rule.
    We traveled back down route 89 so we could visit Elkin with our friends Bob and Wanda. We made a special trip to the Slightly Askew Winery, where you can buy some very unusual flavors. We love their wines and came back with a mixed almost case of bottles. From there we visited McRitchie’s winery and cider works for our second wine tasting. It was a beautiful day full of good flavors and good conversation with good people.
    The next few days were a mixture of coach washing, waxing, trip to Wal-Mart, more coach maintenance, and two more golf outings…both to the beautiful Crest View Golf Course just around the corner from Deer Creek. We met new owners, who will become friends, and we were reunited with already friends while attending the graduation party for Louie and Jesse, son and daughter of Laura and Barry, who built this special place. We enjoyed drink, food, fellowship and games.
    Memorial Day morning found us at a huge breakfast at Bob and Marlene’s beautiful site where there was plenty of smiles and food for everyone to get as much of both as they wanted.
    We made some new friends while walking thru Cool Breeze RV resort which is located right across the nine hole golf course next to our resort. We discovered a Holiday Rambler club chapter having a rally there. A new Vacationer caught my eye. It was a very late model one with a full wall slide and a great paint job. Eddie, the owner, happened to be outside trying to get his cable to work. A couple of other members were in the coach trying to figure out why there was no signal. This is the kind of think I love to figure out, so I immediately volunteered to help Eddie and his wife Sylvia, solve this electronic puzzle. I discovered that the TV antenna amplifier, which is supposed to switch to park cable when turned off, was not working. I made a temporary fix and advised Eddie that he should replace the stock amp with a more powerful Winegard digital TV antenna meter and amp. Eddie did just that, after visiting our coach to see how the same device works in our coach. It meant a trip to Camping World in Statesville, but it was worth it.
    That evening they invited us to be their guests at the club dinner out at the Mountain Surf Seafood restaurant, one of our favorite places, located just up the street from both resorts. We accepted, and as a result had a good dinner, and more good conversation with good people. Diane and I were also invited to join the club. We are giving that serious consideration.
    After dinner, we had dessert at the Cool Breeze meeting room. Before that Eddie and I performed a successful install of the new amp. We tested it and found that the park cable and off air worked just the way we wanted it to.
    We received another invite to attend a birthday dinner for Teddy, one of the owners and a golfing buddy of mine. We caravanned to Dobson, N.C., to a really fun place called The Depot, where I consumed a great half rack of baby back ribs with sweet tea, Cole slaw, sweet potato casserole, and hush puppies. We sat across the table from fellow owners Bill, his wife Connie and their son Mark, who was visiting from Washington, D.C. We talked about family, occupations, and the many things that’s go along with those two subjects. In other words, it was another evening of good food and good conversation with good people. Are you starting to see a pattern here?
    Diane and I drove back on our own and on the way we made a fortuitous wrong turn. We found ourselves missing our exit off I-77 to route 89 and so we took another road over to Fancy Gap where we turned onto the Blue Ridge Parkway, just as the sun was beginning to set on our right. It was a really pretty and peaceful drive back to our home. I opened the sun roof and let the mountain air blow in. Diane and I didn’t say much, we both were just enjoying the peaceful scenery.
    Diane loves the mountains just as I do. My roots are here. Diane’s heart is here, as it has been for years starting when we were young, in love, broke and sleeping in a tent. As we were driving she made the comment that our lives are like glasses of water and sand. Most of the time we have so many things happening in our lives that we are just shook up and the water in the glass is cloudy and brown. The mountains bring God’s peace and thoughts become calmer, our spirits become still. The sand in the glass settles to the bottom and things are then clear. I am not relating this the exact way that she expressed this, but the meaning is there I am sure.
    Tomorrow will find us on Route 89 and returning to our busy lives back in the big city. We do have friends and family there we want to see. Work is calling (literally) as well. We are taking some new clothes back with us, along with new pictures, but more important we are taking back new memories of this place, this special community called Deer Creek.
    We will be returning here. I say the sooner the better.
    Derrick
    "Gramps"
  3. -Gramps-
    Two weekends ago Diane, Teddy and I took the coach for a cold, wet weekend to Beth Page campground in Urbana, Virginia. From Portsmouth it is about a ninety minute drive up I-64 to State Highway 17. It would be a lot quicker if not for slow drivers and lots of stop lights. I didn't mind so much because we were not in a big hurry. We left around two in the afternoon on Friday and the nights festivities would not start until five.
    The purpose of this trip was to rally up with our fellow Colonial Virginians, our FMCA chapter and have our annual Christmas Party. It is a big affair for us. We have two catered meals, a big country breakfast on Saturday and a really good meal on Saturday night. After the meal is our traditional nasty Santa gift exchange. Gift steal is really what it is. The weekend starts on Friday night with happy hour at five.
    We arrived just at four o'clock at the office at Beth Page. Our arrival would have been earlier but I missed the turn into the campground. That meant driving down a dead end street, unhooking the tow, backing up the coach and then driving back to the campground where I better not miss the turn again. I didn't. I did remember that this was a dry camping weekend so I filled up the fresh water tank in Williamsburg on our previous trip out.
    We were led to our spot; a big pull-thru, hooked up, put out the slides (and they all worked great) and then Diane took off to the nearest food market to buy some peeled shrimp to take to the Happy Hour.
    While she was gone, I sat up Teddy's new crate in the coach. He took one look at it and moved to the other end of the coach. I took one look at it and thought that it was a big thing to have sitting behind the driver's seat. It couldn't be helped, our original crate was just a bit too small and we just couldn't leave him in it for more than short periods of time. Teddy, of course, didn't want to be left for any periods of time.
    Diane was not gone long. She came back in with a big bag of frozen shrimp, good sized ones, and I thawed them out for her, which took a few minutes. We changed into some clothes that were a bit more festive to match the occasion, packed up Teddy's Kong with some cheese, and then after he was safely stowed away, we hopped in the car and drove over to the conference center for the party.
    It was fun to catch up with some friends whom we had not seen in a few months. We don't get the chance to camp with our fellow club members all that often, and this year was harder than usual with Nickolas being ill, and my work schedule requiring so much weekend work.
    We chatted for awhile; had some drinks and I ate a ton of shrimp. Not just ours but some unpeeled ones provided by other people. After about three hours I left with Bill, one of our close friends to go back to our coaches. Bill and Micky were parked next to us. Diane and Micky decided to stay and play tile games for awhile, a long while but that was fine with me. I picked up a copy of Pursuing Happinessfrom a DVD collection provided by a Beth Page staff member and so I had something to keep me entertained for a couple of hours at least.
    I let Teddy out of prison, (it's not that bad), and he sat on my lap most of the time the movie was playing. Every now and then he would move over to the co-pilot's seat and look out the door window like he was hoping to see someone, who; I cannot imagine.
    The movie really got to me. Of course it did, because I am such a softy. It got to me the first time I watched it too, still I enjoyed it a lot. It is a movie that a lot of people should see.
    Around ten thirty Diane came back through the door. Teddy was very glad too see her. We sat together on the couch for awhile, and then I took him out for his last walk of the day. At eleven we hit the hay. Teddy, after providing us both with lots of good night kisses, curled up at our feet and in just a few seconds was asleep.
    We were up around six the next morning. I think I actually slept through the night. The fist time that had happened in quite some time. The hard cider I drank the night before must have had something to do with that, or maybe it was all the shrimp.
    We got dressed, took the pup out for a long cold walk and at about eight thirty we put him back in his crate and drove over for breakfast.
    It turned out to be a great one with eggs, bacon, sausage, biscuits and gravy, pancakes and good coffee. That last item is very important to Diane. Me, I am a hot tea drinker in the mornings when it is available and it was.
    After this great breakfast, the Colonials had their annual big business meeting. This one was important because we had a new president, along with other officers, and we were setting up our rally schedule for the next calendar year.
    After all the business yada, yada, yada, we were reminded about the coming evening's dinner, and gift "exchange". We all looked forward to it very much. The room was decorated really great, the tables looked nice and I was beginning to feel a bit Christmassy.
    We returned to the coach and I gave Teddy some eggs and bacon that I smuggled out in a napkin. Then I piddled around making some minor repairs to various things that needed repairing, fastening down some molding, tightening a screw, gluing down a floor tile, that kind of thing. Diane ran the vacuum while Teddy barked at it.
    I wasted my time trying to scan for TV channels. There was nothing close enough worth watching so the TV remained off. We sat and talked which was a good thing.
    We talked about what we would do for Christmas where we would go and how long we would stay there. We planned to go to St Augustine for New Years with our daughter Jeri, Tom and Dylan, then over to Fort Wilderness for five nights. (I may extend that if I can) and then back home. We would be back in the office, so to speak, on the 8th of January. We thought this would make a good trip and I am sure that it will.
    The big event for the day started at five, with a social hour, then dinner at six. Dinner was really good. We had a roasted pork loin, gravy, creamed potatoes, stuffing, rolls, long green beans with bacon, salads first, and then apple crisp for dessert. As I said it was really good. Then it was time for the gift giving/stealing exchange.
    It was a hoot. I got to go first, that meant that there was nothing for me to steal but I had my choice of all the unopened presents and then after all others had gotten their gifts, either by crook or hook, I could look em all over and steal any gift that had not already been stolen twice before. I opened a big box with a large elf in it. Diane liked it and no one stole it although there was a lot of stealing going on. Micky had to make four trips up to the gift table; she couldn't hang on to anything she got until she stole one herself. That steal was number two so her gift was now safe.
    At the end of the evening I exchanged gifts with Andy, a friend who liked elves and Diane collects snowmen, which is what he had, so the trade was good for both parties. The snowman is now sitting on our entertainment center and will most likely go with us to Florida next week.
    Lots of our friends expressed their sadness at hearing about the loss of our Nickolas. They also shared our joy in knowing that we had a new pup who was adjusting great. Lots of people, who saw us walking him, commented on how handsome he is. He is handsome in a long legged cute kind of way.
    The evening was over at around ten thirty. We made a quick getaway to our coach to let out the pup. We called it a day, retired to the bedroom to watch a Walton's Christmas special about two kids from England who came to America to escape the blitz. We both watched the whole thing without falling asleep.
    In the morning it was back to the meeting room for a continental breakfast, more good conversation, a round of goodbyes and Merry Christmases and then we returned to the coach. We did not want to leave right away. We choose to walk around some, clean the coach a bit more and around two we left for home.
    It was a good time.
    This past Saturday we attended my mother's eightieth birthday party. We also decided to make it our family Christmas party as well. We also had a nasty Santa gift exchange that went pretty well. I stole a set of electronic key finders that don't work so hot , but it doesn't matter, the evening was fun. We met at the Surf Rider, a local seafood place that has the best crab cakes you ever ate. Diane and I had ours on top of a Cesar Salad, along with Calamari, She Crab soup and hush puppies. There was Birthday cake for dessert. It was nice seeing my two sisters, my brother and all our extended families. My daughters could not be there but my grandsons did attend. We kept them for the weekend. I looked around the room and was surprised at just how large the family had grown from just two people who met so many years before. I was glad to be there. I will also be glad to see my daughter, her husband and our little grandson in just a few days. I think they will take to Teddy and he to them quite easily.
    Well I need to get to work. I am still sitting here in my pjs. I need to get to the bank and make a deposit and I have not done any Christmas shopping yet. There is no sense in putting it off to the very last minute. I also need to get the tree down from the attic. That should have been done days ago but my business has been, well, just busy lately.
    So to all my readers and that includes you too Todd..please have a very Merry Christmas, a Happy New Year, and my God bless all of you.
    Derrick
    "Gramps"
  4. -Gramps-
    This blog entry doesn't have anything to do with the motor coaching lifestyle. Not directly, anyway. But the event does have a lot to do with how much I appreciate the friends that RVing has provided to my wife and I. Friends who have helped me get through the loss that I wrote about in The Course of Dreams. That story was about the second time I lost a close friend.
    This story is about the first.
    WAYNE
    In the summer of 1984 I moved my start-up small business out of my home into a small office in a really neat old building in downtown Norfolk, Virginia. I had a secretary, a salesman, and one installer -- me. My salesman was not giving the business much attention, and as a result was not very successful. I needed an additional person to spark a little competition.
    One fall day I was talking about this problem with the pastor of our church. He was familiar with my dilemma and my business because my current salesman also attended the church and the pastor also worked with me on large installation jobs. He suggested that I talk to a new member of the church named Wayne.
    "Wayne?" I said. "He retired from the Coast Guard; I don't think he knows anything about selling phones."
    My pastor assured me that Wayne could learn. I was not so sure. Wayne just did not fit the mold of the typical telecommunications salesperson. He was short, bald, with a full gray beard and most of the time wore all black clothes and sandals to church. He seemed like he was some kind of ex hippie to me.
    "What do you have to lose?" said Pastor.
    "Nothing except a lot of time and energy" I responded. But I agreed to talk to Wayne.
    Wayne had to retire on medical disability due to liver problems. I think he may have caught hepatitis at some point and he also at one time had a drinking problem. He was a Master Chief and the CO of a Coast Guard cutter, so he had some leadership skills, or so the Pastor kept telling me. I just needed someone who could help me; it sounded like the pastor wanted me to help him. I was not thrilled with the whole idea.
    I talked to Wayne after church one fateful Wednesday night. He told me that he wanted no salary or draw, that he would work on straight commission and he would learn the phone business. He was all smiles and seemed excited about working for me. Someone excited -- that would be a change in itself. I agreed to give it a try. Wayne would start the next Monday. I hoped he would at least show up with shoes and socks on.
    I did not see Wayne in church on Sunday. I don't remember if he was not there or if I was working. On Monday morning when he showed up at the office with a haircut, trimmed beard, dark suit, starched white shirt and tie and carrying a new brief case complete with gold name plate, I was completely shocked.
    "Where is my desk?" was his first question. I showed him one of the large computer tables that we used as desks in the back office. He wanted some documentation and brochures on the equipment that we sold so he could learn it. He sat down and started studying and about four hours later asked if we could chat for a couple of minutes. He told me he wanted to go out with me for a few days and see my customers, ask for referrals, and he wanted me to go on his first appointments with him. No problem. He also said that since I was one of the owners of the company that I should dress the part.
    "What?"
    "You can't go on sales appointments with me in jeans and work shoes; you need to keep some dress clothes here in the office that you can change into when I need you."
    I was trying to figure out where I lost control. I was worried about his dress and now he is telling me that I needed to change mine. This was getting weird. But it was obvious that the Wayne I knew in church was not the Wayne sitting here in my office.
    "If you need help shopping, we can go together."
    "I think I can handle it."
    "Good, a nice sports coat, dress shirts -- they don't have to be white -- some sporty ties and nice shoes should do it."
    I got over my shock and, I hate to say it, my resentment, and took his advice.
    We started to work together as a team. Wayne figured it would take a couple of months to get rolling and he was willing to foot his own bills and that is just what he did. We had lots of evening conversations as I helped him configure systems and taught him what was best for each of his prospects. He eagerly learned. We went to conventions together, and his prospect list started to grow. Bill, my original salesman, also perked up and started selling a bit more. Things started to look up.
    During this time I learned more about Wayne. He used to be a partying man. He was a good Coastie, but a bad husband until he became a Christian and started attending our church. Unfortunately, his wife did not like the new Wayne, a more patient guy who did not drink or swear or smoke, so she left him. She took their teenage son and moved to Florida. Wayne was still in touch with them and it was his son who bought him his brief case.
    Wayne kept generating leads and keeping appointments, but after a few weeks I could see that Wayne wanted to reel in his first sale. He was getting anxious and wanted to make something happen. It did not matter if it was big or small.
    It was small. But to Wayne the first one was big. After six weeks he sold a system to a small auto repair place that needed four phones. We would be installing it in a couple of weeks.
    During the two weeks, we started to plan our own trade show in cooperation with a wholesale food distributor whose owners (one being my brother) were the partners in my business. Hotel and restaurant people would be attending. There would be lots of food, and cooking demonstrations from Johnson and Wales University. The manufacturer of our phones sent Doug Stewart, a great factory representative, to work with us. It was a formal affair. The three of us looked sharp in our black tuxes and red cummerbunds. The evening was a great success. During the next two weeks Wayne talked to two major hotels and was sure that he would sell them, too.
    I realized that I had found a very good salesperson who also was now my friend, and I knew that I would soon officially offer him a partnership.
    The day came to install Wayne's sale. He helped me put it in, we trained the staff and they wrote a check for the system. Back in the office I wrote Wayne his first commission check. It was not that much.
    "Well, its small but it will pay for the gas to keep on going." Wayne said.
    I invited him over for dinner with Diane and I, but he declined, saying he was not feeling so well, his medication was not agreeing with him. He thought he would see Arlene that evening. She was a nice lady whose husband had been killed in Vietnam and she and Wayne had recently discovered each other.
    "That crazy ex real estate partner of hers has been calling and making a jerk of himself the last few days," Wayne said. "She's upset about it, so I'm going to go over to her place."
    For some reason I felt strongly that he should come to dinner with me, so I insisted he invite Arlene, but he declined. I became very uneasy and could not understand why.
    That night was an untypical sub freezing cold October night and very late when the phone rang. It was Bill calling me.
    "Derrick, are you awake?" he said.
    "Yes, what's going on?"
    "Derrick, Wayne is dead."
    There was a long pause while I really woke up.
    "Dead! How is that, why?"
    "He was killed and so was Arlene. That partner of hers shot them both. I was heading over there just before it happened but Steve (Bill's son) had a flat and I went to help him."
    I realized that I could have lost both Bill and Wayne. Arlene's real estate partner was upset that she planned to press charges against him for embezzling money out of the apartment complex that they owned together. She was also planning to sell the complex to cover the losses. He was not happy about this. Plus, he was not happy about her relationship with Wayne. The partner was a lot younger than her and, although married himself, had an obsessive crush on her. This was a volatile mix.
    The night he killed them he dressed up like a Ninja, all in black, including a hooded mask. He carried a whole bunch of ninja weapons to a field just behind a canal that ran behind Arlene’s house. This field was the property of my church. Bill's house was two doors down from Arlene's. He laid all his spears, throwing stars, and swords in the grass, loaded his Uzi, waded the canal and headed for Arlene's house. His approach set the neighbor's dogs barking and Wayne opened the door to see what was causing the noise. The guy shot him down, jumped over Wayne's body and went into the house where Arlene was in the living room. Her son and a sleepover friend were upstairs. He shot the living room to pieces, chased Arlene around the first floor of the house, and killed her and then himself. The boys were hiding in the stairwell and of course heard the whole thing.
    The news media was not too sharp and did not know that Wayne worked for me. There were stories on the front page of our local paper and it was the lead story on the local newscasts for about four nights. Not once did anybody contact me and I was very grateful for that oversight.
    I quietly attended Wayne's funeral at Arlene's church along with 300 members of the Coast Guard.
    The next day, as I was cleaning out Wayne's desk and shipping his briefcase to his son, it all sank in. My secretary became so upset that she quit and virtually so did Bill. My brother came to fill in, but that did not help much.
    Wayne sold; I mean I sold the two hotels that I mentioned, along with quite a few other things that Wayne was working on. The business continued for two and a half years until I sold it. I was depressed; I could not see any good coming out of the loss of my friend and partner. It took me a long time to realize that it is not that important for me to understand. God was still in control and loved me; that was all I really needed to know.
    In May of 1985 I almost lost my newborn son and my wife and it was the strength that I received from going through Wayne's death that sustained me and helped me to pray. They both survived.
    Wayne is still someone that I think about a lot. I just recently found the worn-out and faded Polaroid of the three of us at the trade show. Every now and then it does me some good to look at Wayne's smiling bearded face, looking sharp in his red bow tie.
    By the way, I now own a successful communications company that I started in 1991. My wife is my only partner. My first two customers were the same two hotels that Wayne would have sold. Life goes on.
    Derrick
    Doug Stewart, Wayne and myself at the trade show:

  6. -Gramps-

    "Cruising" Day Two

    By -Gramps-,

    A lot of things have changed in the last nine and a half years. A couple of divorces (that should explain the name changes in my story) kids have moved out, dogs have passed away. Diane and I are getting closer to our fortieth anniversary. If, on that occasion, we were to take another sea cruise, which is doubtful, because we prefer to land cruise, I would hope it would be as good as our last one.
    Voyager of the Seas 10-06-2002 to 10-13-2002
    Part II Saturday: South Beach, Swatches, Kids, Embarkation
    “The most beautiful stones have been tossed by the wind and washed by the waters and polished to brilliance by life’s strongest storms”
    The mattress was excellent. Diane’s backside and calf was a bit tight from the flight so I took an elbow to her rump and pressed hard, very hard until the nerve let go. Pressure to relieve pain. I also used my thumbs on her right calf until that knot loosened up. She informed me that it now felt better so we went down to the Seabreeze Café located past the pool on the ocean side of the hotel. The café is a cheerful place with a live steel drum player. He accompanied himself with synthesized music that sounded good. We seated ourselves, and a waiter in a tropical shirt and shorts, was at our elbows in a flash. I ordered my first Corona and a blackened Mahi-Mahi sandwich. Diane ordered water and the same. We did not talk much. We sat there and just looked at each other. I sipped my beer and thought of the commercial where the guy skips his pager into the ocean. I like that spot a lot. It was filmed on Paradise Beach in Cozumel by the way. The ocean was beautiful. Between the café and the sand was a hedge of very unusual flowering foliage. Butterflies flew from flower to flower. Diane mentioned that we could get up in the morning and watch the Explorer come into port. I said that would be nice. Our sandwiches arrived in their baskets with lots of fries and mango and black bean salsa. They were large sandwiches and very good. I ate mine and my fries and most of Diane’s fries as well. We are on the Zone diet plan and potatoes are not on the favorable list of things to eat, but I was on vacation so what the heck. I took that attitude a lot during the next week.
    We skipped dessert, signed our bill, showed our hotel card and headed back up to the room to change into our swim suits. I put on by red Speedos and Diane put on her black tankini with the blue, green and yellow flowers. She looked great. Before you get the wrong picture in your head my Speedos are baggy shorts. We checked out two towels, hit the beach and found two chaise lounges to fall into. Diane opened her book; I did the same:
    Chapter Five of the Lovely Bones
    Part of me wished swift vengeance, wanted my father to turn into the man he could have been-a man violent in rage. That’s what you see in movies, that’s what happens in the books people read. An everyman takes a gun or a knife and stalks the murderer of his family, he does a Bronson on them and everyone cheers.
    What is was really like:
    Everyday he got up. Before sleep wore off, he was the man he used to be. Then, as his consciousness woke, it was if poison seeped in. At first he couldn’t even get up. He lay there under a heavy weight. But then only movement could save him, and he moved and he moved and he moved, no movement being enough to make up for it. The guilt on him, the hand of God pressing down on him, saying, “You were not there when you daughter needed you”.
    The book touched me but at times I found it too heavy, I found it to be in some ways too close to home. I fell asleep. Sometime around four thirty the beach attendant told us he needed to collect and stack the chairs for the day. He gave us about another thirty minutes, and we had to get up. I didn’t want to; I was having dreamless sleep, and the best kind of sleep it is. Diane wanted to walk, feel her toes in the sand and the waves. We set off north, walking and collecting shells. We did not say much, mostly listened to the sound of the small waves and people watched. There were not many people, but a lot more than the year before. I could not get over how many people, particularly the girls, felt it necessary to talk on their cell phones. I left mine at home; Diane brought hers, but rarely used it. We walked a bit more then headed up to the pool for a quick dip.
    We were sitting around the pool when a very beautiful but not quite real looking young lady walked by. A better term would be she strutted by. She was wearing a very small yellow bikini top and an orange sarong. This muscular guy was hanging all over her. The two of them turned everybody’s heads.
    He sure likes her, Diane said. I replied he probably paid for them, and likes his investment.
    Around five thirty Diane said she wanted to get ready for dinner. That sounded good to me so back up to the room we went. The brown marbled lower lobby of the hotel was like a refrigerator after being out in the sun, but it felt good. Once in the room, Diane hit the foot deep square shower with the marble bench and it's strange backwards turning knobs and I sat on the floor in my damp swim suit and turned on the ball game. I am a baseball fanatic and missing the playoffs is the only drawback to cruising in the fall. I think it was game three between the Yankees and the Angels. My team, the D’Backs was already gone so I watched the game rather impartially (not really, I wanted the Angels to win). I soon fell asleep on the floor. I love napping during a baseball game. Diane finished her shower and with one cute foot poked me until I woke. I took a quick shower, put on some dress slacks, a print shirt, Brutini loafers and down to dinner we went. We wanted to sit outside again and were surprised to see that it was raining. We stood in a glass walled lounge called the Ocean Room and noticed waiters rolling tables through the door from outside. A rehearsal dinner for a very large wedding was being rained out. In about a minute there was a break in the rain so we made a run for the Seabreeze Café. We reached it only to be told that it was closed for a private party. Well, where do we eat now? The lady bartender told us the Hibiscus restaurant inside also serves light fare so we walked back in. On the way back in we passed the yellow bikini and muscle couple still intertwined, orange sarong and all. Diane commented that he was getting his money’s worth.
    We sat down in the almost empty restaurant and took a look at the menu. I have traveled a bit and I am usually suspect of most hotel restaurants. I think they tend to be overpriced and not that good. That is one of the reasons we cruise. The food on a cruise ship is a much better value than you can get in most resort hotels. Tonight, however, would be an exception to my rule. Diane ordered the Shrimp Caesar Salad and I ordered the Jerked Spiced Churrasco Steak. It came with green beans and garlic mashed potatoes. When they brought it out it was about nine inches long by three wide and thin like a flank steak or London boil. Now I grill a lot of steaks, and do it well so I tend to be critical. This steak was great. The best one I have ever had on the road, period. The steak was juicy, tender, and spicy with a garlic and parsley pesto sauce on top, delicious! I took about three lovely bites and realized that the steak was folded in half lengthwise. The thing was eighteen inches long. There must have been a pound of steak on my plate. I saw how many shrimp Diane had in her salad and she at the same time said she needed more protein so a large piece of my steak went on her plate. That still left a lot. I asked the waiter if the steak was supposed to be this big, maybe the chef made a mistake? No sir, enjoy it. I did.
    About this time our daughter Jeri and her husband Mark came into the restaurant. They drove down from Melbourne to spend the weekend with us.
    We were very glad to see them. Jeri looked at my steak. I gave her a bite or two; they were not ordering having eaten on the way down. We chit chatted for awhile mostly about Jeri’s job as a registered nurse and made plans for the next day. I commented on the view from the air, all the large houses built right on a bunch of small winding rivers. She informed me that all bodies of water have their own private alligator in them. That reminded me of a story I saw on the news about a grandfather who got bit in the face saving his grandson from an alligator. I said I knew Diane would do the same for Nickolas (her Cocker Spaniel). I knew she would do the same for me. Jeri partially disagreed; she said Mom would feel sorry for the alligator. I would make lousy alligator bait because I am so boney. She said Diane would ask the alligator if he wanted some butter with that, it might make me easier to swallow.
    I signed for dinner. We went to the lower lobby that had some shops and an arcade. We window shopped and then we played a few games of air hockey. We decided to call it an early night so we could hit Lincoln Road in the morning.
    Our rooms were both on the twelfth floor so we said good night. Diane and I hit the bed right away. The early morning hours finally caught up with us. Diane curled up with her book instead of with me. I tried to read, but could not concentrate so I turned on the TV and tuned into the end of another playoff game. I watched about five minutes and turned it off and myself as well.
    The next morning we were both up bright and early. I pulled back the curtains and sure enough there was the Explorer of the Seas there in the distance. The phone rang. It was some kind of fancy two line cordless that did not work well and we had to answer the call on the speakerphone. Jeri was calling to say Let’s Go! I yelled: we will call you back as soon as we are dressed. She yelled back: Are you naked? I yelled: it is none of your business.
    Diane put on white Capri pants with a black tank top and I put on white shorts and a black rayon Liz Claiborne for men tee shirt. For some reason in our old age Diane and I seem to dress in like colors a lot. We don’t plan it that way, not all the time. One of the benefits is, if we become separated while shopping or something, I can remember what she is wearing by looking at me and then find her.
    We called Jeri, she and Mark came down the hall to our room. It was wet outside from a sudden rainstorm and Diane decided to wear her misfit tennis shoes instead of her good sandals. Jeri took a look at her shoes and discovered that one shoe was a size 8 ½ women’s and the other one a size 8 ½ man’s. Well, I tried. We were now going to have to find a shoe store.
    We took the elevator down to breakfast in the main restaurant. The place was packed due to a wedding and some kind of convention that was taking place that day. We had coupons for a free breakfast, since it was included in our RCC package. We went with the buffet, which looked quite substantial. I needed grazing practice for the coming week. The buffet had lots of pastries, eggs, an omelet station, crepes, fresh made waffles, smoothies, and all kinds of fruit with the exception of prunes! Orange Juice and coffee were also included. We ate well, looked out the window at the rain and hoped that the blue sky off in the distance would come our way. Mark, who is a big eater, loved the breakfast and got his money’s worth, or should I say my moneys worth.
    After we finished eating Jeri and Diane wanted to go upstairs for a last minute make up session and grab their purses. I had my camera with me and wanted to take some pictures. I asked Diane to grab an extra roll of film.
    They left for upstairs and I said I would meet them in the main lobby. I went up there to take pictures of a very beautiful room. It was huge with columns all around and a beautiful mural painted on the ceiling. It was being decorated for a wedding reception. While I was taking pictures an attractive young lady in a wedding gown escorted by an older man in a nice tuxedo came through the lobby and went to a waiting white Rolls Royce limousine. Nice. I said a quick prayer to myself asking God to bless her and make it work. Diane called to me, we went outside and the Valet retrieved Jeri’s black Accord LX Coupe. The driver commented how nice the car was. Hey, I don’t co-sign for no junk!
    We headed down Collins to the Lincoln Road Mall.
    Now I am sure that many of you are reading this and thinking to yourself; “when is this guy going to write about the cruise?!”
    My response is that a cruise is a lot more than just the time you spend on the ship. It’s about the thinking about it and the planning, the getting there, the leaving, and remembering it. The joy for me is in the details. Details are the spices that make a cruise taste better. Just hang in there; we do make it on to the ship.
    We parked the Honda in a garage at the Corner of Lincoln something not far from Washington. The rain stopped and the hot Florida sun came out. We had walked about a block when Diane spotted a Foot Locker store and the hunt for new shoes was on. There was a buy one pair and get the second half off sale taking place so Jeri and Diane decided to team up. They both found shoes and I then discovered that I had forgotten my credit card. Oops. Jeri had to buy her Mom shoes for a change. I found some strange running shoes with split toes. I could not imagine Joel, my son the champion cross country runner, wearing those things. I took a picture of Jeri and Mark holding them.
    For the rest of the afternoon we walked, talked, and shopped. We went up one side of the mall and down the other. I finally broke down and bought something. I collect watches, wrist and pocket. I guess in some way I must think that if I own a lot of timepieces that I have more time. No, I just like watches like some people like rings or shoes or whatever. I bought (with Jeri’s credit card) a very nice chronograph in the Swatch Store. It is a special edition 007 Goldfinger watch, made to recognize the 40th anniversary of the Bond movies. It is very cool.
    We had lunch at the Nexxt Restaurant and Bistro. My son says that gourmet food is small portions artfully arranged. Not at this place. They put a lot more food on the plate than a normal human can eat at one time. I had an Indochine Salad that was out of this world. Pulled chicken with fresh spinach and romaine with mandarin oranges, all sandwiched between tasty tortilla shells. This Salad is best eaten with a Corona in a big frosty mug.
    We filled up and then headed back to the Wyndham for an afternoon lounge around the pool. When we walked into the lobby, loud and exotic music was coming out of the columned banquet room, the wedding reception was in full swing. It looked beautiful.
    We swam, we talked, and Mark and Jeri demonstrated some of their swing dancing moves in the pool. They are pretty good. Diane and I have now made that one of our two goals for our next cruise. To swing dance and look like we know what we are doing would be nice. The other goal is to learn how to scuba dive.
    It started to cool off so we went for a long walk down the boardwalk past the world famous Fontainebleau Hotel and a bunch of other places, turned around and walked back up the beach. We then hit the showers and agreed to meet in the Seabreeze Café for dinner.
    We had Cuban Sandwiches and other things that I don’t remember. The main topic of conversation was getting to the ship in the morning. Around ten pm we called it a night and left the café.
    We woke early. It was a beautiful day. Not a cloud in the sky. I took a gander through the window. In front of the Miami skyline, I could see our ship the Voyager of the Seas. I found myself starting to get anxious to be aboard. This would be cruise number five and I still felt the same excitement. Diane dressed in the bathroom while I threw on a fresh pair off white linen shorts and a sea blue rayon tee shirt (I bought four of them at eight dollars apiece, they retailed for thirty five dollars each). Diane came out of the bathroom wearing a short white jean skirt and a crinkly sky blue top. We stared at each other for a second; Diane shook her head, picked up the phone and called Jeri’s room. A few seconds later, Jeri and Mark knocked on the door. Jeri said don’t you two look cute. Diane said it was just a coincidence not a plan, let’s eat. It was now around eight forty five. We headed for breakfast, with the coupons for payment, which I forgot the morning before. Breakfast was the same except for fresh apple strudel instead of crepes. On the way to the restaurant I stopped by the front desk to ask what time our bus would be arriving. We were told that it would be one or one thirty. I was hoping to get to the terminal earlier, but it was no big deal, not yet anyway.
    We finished breakfast, and confirmed our plans to drive to Melbourne the day the ship returned. We planed to see Mark and Jeri’s new house and maybe drive to Downtown Disney or something to that effect.
    We headed back upstairs to pack up and chill in the room until noon which was checkout time. Our kids said their goodbyes, made hugs all around, said have a great time and then left. It was now around ten and housekeeping started knocking on the door. We told them we would be leaving at checkout time. We tried to sit and read, for about an hour, while the sea breeze wafted through the big window. I kept looking at the ship. Come to me she seemed to be saying, Come to me. I could not stand it any longer. Make your last pit stop, I cried. It is time to go! Diane had just enough time to flush and apply lipstick while I hitched all the baggage together. We pulled the train out into the hall. I punched the down button.
    The elevator was slow and when it finally opened it was full of people. I told Diane to take her bags down; I would wait for the next one. It was a few minutes later before another door opened and it was going up. A hotel staff member was on board with a bowl of lemon slices. He said get on, ride it up and then go down. I complied. I finally reached the lobby, gave a mighty shove to my three bags, picked up Diane and headed to the front desk. The lobby had quite a few bags in it, some with Grand Princess Tags, and some with the green VY tags on them. The Princess tags surprised me because I thought that ship left from Fort Lauderdale. There were some bags on a cart with blue tags, with the Voyager of the Seas handwritten on them.
    We checked out and then found a couch to sit on because there was still about ninety minutes to wait. We sat for awhile. We moved to a seat closer to the door. We saw a group of people speaking Italian head outside with the cart of bags and the handwritten tags. A couple with a cart of bags with the green VY tags, followed. I decided that outside looked good to me too.
    I hauled the bags down the stairs; a couple of valets saw me and took over. Diane and I started our bus vigil on the stairs. Diane moved to a bench in the sun. Where is the bus? Where is the bus? It was now past one fifteen. One of the Italian men examined the VY tag on one of my wife’s bags and reported something to his group and a discussion ensued. I do not know what it was about. I did notice that one the female members of the group was wearing velour slacks with multicolored horizontal stripes and the weirdest pair of white clogs I had ever seen, they looked like small flotation devices.
    The man with the VY tags came over to me and informed me that his wife had called the shuttle service and found out the bus was running behind because downtown Miami had fourteen streets closed due to a Monte Carlo style car race. There were 200,000 spectators watching it. He thought it would take us hours to get to the terminal. This was not news that I wanted to hear.
    At two fifteen the bus arrived. The driver was someone I recognized. She drove us from the terminal to the Eden Roc Hotel after our cruise the year before. I knew we were in good hands. The first thing she wanted to know was where were we at eleven that morning? Eleven! All who spoke English exclaimed that we did not know. Too bad, she said. I took a deep breath told myself to forget about it, or maybe it was Diane who told me to take a deep breath and forget about it. Okay, we are on our way now.
    Twenty minutes later we were heading down the ramp to the terminal, the ship filling up our vision. We had passed a few fenced in streets and I thought I could hear racing engines but nothing delayed us. I had forgotten just how big the Eagle class ships are. The NCL and Carnival ships looked small next to the Voyager. We waited for the driver to unload, found ourselves a porter, one of which was arguing with the Italians because they tried to tip him in Liras. This ain’t Rome! He told them. We gave the driver and a porter some good ole American dollars, grabbed our carryons and headed into the terminal.
    We flashed our ID’s when necessary, headed up the escalator and found a large group of people sitting in front of three x-ray machines. We formed a line and waited for enough people to leave the chairs and then we took their place. I was watching my watch. Diane was being cool. I think it was about a half hour before we took our place in line at the machines. I remember that there were a lot of apologies for delays etc, etc. We had filled our documents out online so at least we did not have to worry about the pink forms.
    It took about five minutes to go through security, without a hitch, (I was not wearing Rockports). We walked into the check in room to find a very long and winding line. Everybody automatically queued up in it. I estimated that the line contained 400 people. Not good. I stood there for awhile and then walked over to a security officer and informed her that we had already filled out our documents. I showed her the printed confirmation. She pointed to her right and said go to the end to the Terminal Coordinator’s desk, it is a much shorter line. We rolled down to the correct desk and Glory; there were five people in line. Five minutes later we handed our paperwork and our credit card to the Agent, she took about one minute, said Welcome back, enjoy your cruise, handed us our Sea Pass cards, cabin number 1234. We flashed our cards to a security officer at the foot of the escalator located just in front of the Terminal Coordinator’s desk and up we went. At the top another dual line for Sea Pass security, the up your nose with a fat neck picture (the officer politely removed Diane’s hat because her hands were full) and then the, stand on that line, Hug her and smile picture.
    We rolled into the ship, saw twenty people queue up for the first set of elevators; we went around them to the ones on the other side, two people there, an up elevator opened, in we went and punched the button for Deck 10. The glass elevator went up and so did my spirits. The ship looked great. We crossed the ship to the starboard side into the cabin passageway and rolled our way forward to cabin 1234. Card in the lock, open the door.
    We made it. We gave each other a big hug and stepped out on the balcony. We were looking at the container terminals and as far as I was concerned the view was fantastic. We heard an announcement that we could not make out, so I stepped back in and turned up the cabin speaker. We had thirty minutes to grab lunch before the life boat drill. The cruise had now officially begun. Time to hit the Windjammer cafe.
    Derrick
  7. -Gramps-
    Just a note about what is coming next. . . I know that this story has gotten long, but it is about to get much longer. You might want to get cup of coffee or take a break before you continue.
    You are about to find out that I have set you up. I have spent a lot of time and words to set you up for a story that I wrote twenty five years ago. It was the first serious short story I have written as an adult. I submitted it to Guidepost Magazine and just basically forgot about it. After a few weeks, I received a call at work,
    It was from an editor at the magazine. He told me that he didn't usually call a writer to tell them that their story had been rejected, but he was making an exception in my case, because he felt strongly that the story should have been printed but he was overruled by the editor in chief. He went on to tell me that my story had caused the biggest argument the magazine had ever had over whether to publish or not. They wanted me to change a few things in it but this editor felt it would change the story to much and at the time I agreed.. He was very sorry to disappoint me; everyone agreed the story was very well written, by a "trained wordsmith", to use the words of the editor in chief. He asked if I had written anything else. I said no, the conversation ended and the story sat in a drawer for years. I took it out of the drawer a few months ago, dusted it off and made a few changes to it.
    Here is the story of the miracle that came to my family, just when we needed it. Take a deep breath and don't read it too fast.
    A Night in May
    We all have life defining moments, a moment that changes us and helps to make us who we are.. It may be for good, or for bad. We said yes to something when we should have said no. We stopped when we should have gone. We sat when we should have gotten up. Sometimes we run away from them. This is about one of those moments that happened to me. It was a moment in time when I got up.
    You may choose not to believe what you read here, that is up to you. I will tell you this. It happened just the way I have written it.
    My Mom and I argued that night. Was it a Tuesday or a Thursday? I don't remember. I do remember that it was sometime in May, 1968. I was fourteen years old, halfway between the time I first thought I should be treated like a man and nobody would and the time my parents thought I should act like a man and I couldn't.
    What did my Mom and I argue about? Was it clothes or grades or just my "attitude"? It must have been aright big fight because I remember doing what I usually did afterwards. I took a long hot shower, the kind where Mom would bang on the bathroom door, rattle the doorknob, and remind me that there was a water shortage or would be if I didn't hurry up and get out of there. No response from me of course. Ten minutes or two yells later, whichever came first, I would turn off the water as the words "it's about time" seemed to slide underneath the bathroom door.
    I will admit that I was not the easiest teenager to get along with. I was a know it all, stubborn as a rock, and at times just plain unfriendly. Simple things gave me a lot of pleasure, like removing my brother from his bunk bed, the top one, with a well placed kick in the middle of the night, or attaching a clothespin to the tail of the cat next door in order to watch it run in noisy circles.
    I did not do these things very often but my parents could not understand why I did them at all. I didn't know why either. I did know that something was wrong. I was frustrated. I was anxious. I was bored. I didn't like life. I certainly didn't understand it. Why was I here? Why was anybody here? Is there a God? Lots of questions like those constantly rolled through my head until I thought I was going crazy,
    It was usually in the wee hours of the morning that I would mull the possible answers to life's profound questions around in my brain, until out of frustration I would send my foot to the unseen, but still perfect spot, over my head which would send little Rodney flying to the floor where he would land with a thump, a wail, and a "Be Quiet In There!" from the room across the hall. I would respond by wrapping my pillow around my head trying to shut out everything. The questions with no answers just keep on coming.
    I finished my shower this particular evening, dried off and shoved the unfolded towel over the rack. As I was putting on, what I considered to be my unfashionable bathrobe, I looked at myself in the mirror. My face looked tight and drawn. The argument lines were still on my forehead and around my mouth. There was the red beginning of a zit forming over the right eyebrow,
    "Great that's all I need." I thought. "The girls will really like me now."
    I turned to leave the bathroom and stubbed my big toe against the door just as little brother was coming in; loudly claiming he couldn't hold it any longer. He also bet there wasn't enough water left to flush with. I cuffed him upside the ear and strutted angrily down the hall. I passed by my little sisters' room.
    They were both asleep. Kam was in her bed and Penni, the younger one, in her crib. Both girls were born with a twisted foot. Kam wore a cast for about a year and then wore corrective shoes so she was now cured. Penni's right foot was twisted so badly that she could hardly walk. She was due to have a cast put on her leg and foot in just a few days. She was a very active eighteen month old so the cast was sure to make things unpleasant for her. I loved my sisters very much. However at that moment as I passed the door of their room I was not thinking about them. I kept on walking.
    When I reached the den I sat down hard on the opposite end of the couch from my parents, folded my arms and stared blankly at the new color television. I couldn't stand it. They were watching that nutty religious channel again.
    I didn't mind religious things. Not a whole lot anyway. Well maybe I did. My Mom and Dad had been taking me to church all my life. I thought it was the right thing to do but I also thought it was boring. When I was small it seemed more important and frankly, then it was more fun. I liked the summer church programs with the games, the cookies and juice. I listened when I heard the stories about Noah, Sampson, David and Goliath. One thunder stormy Sunday night when I was about seven years old I asked my Father what dying on the cross must have been like for Jesus.
    "Did he hurt bad?" I asked.
    I don't remember the words that my father used. I do remember that while he talked I could almost smell the dust on the streets of Jerusalem. I could hear the shouts of the soldiers and the cries of the people as Jesus stumbled his way to the hill. The hammer struck the nail. The cross dropped roughly into the ground. As Daddy spoke the sky grew dark, the lightening struck and Jesus said, "It is finished." And somehow I knew that this had something to do with me. This terrible death of a man who healed children, made the blind to see, and the dead live again, had something to do with me. What, I wasn't sure.
    Not long after that, I was baptized and became a member of our church. It felt good for awhile. For a few years I continued to believe and to grow. Then something inside of me began to change. Church became a place to talk, to meet people (girls), to show off new clothes, and to complain that it was boring. Religion just did not have my attention.
    Religion didn't have my attention but this television show sure did. As I watched, I could tell the small studio was full of people. They were praying. I guess that's what it was. I had never seen anything like it before. Their arms were in the air. They looked at the ceiling a lot. They prayed out loud and I do mean loud. They moaned and swayed together. It made me feel very strange.
    A man named Jim, kind of small, with his hair slicked back and carrying a microphone seemed to take center stage. Two more men, a tall one and another one moved over next to him. The small one motioned to a lady who was standing off to one side. She was carrying a young boy who had a brace on one leg. On the same leg he wore a built up shoe. Obviously that leg was much shorter than the other. The boy also had one arm that was thin and twisted. He kept it pressed up against his chest.
    I found myself leaning forward on the couch. A piano began to softly play. Then the three men did something I had also never seen before. They put their hands on the little boy and starting praying. "Heal him Jesus. . . . Heal him God."
    I didn't like it at all, yet it was so compelling at the same time. The men started praying in some kind of Arabic sounding language. That really made me nervous. The piano began to play a melody that seemed to follow the sing-song pattern of the prayers of the men. The people in the studio joined in.
    One of the men asked the lady to put the boy down and when she did he began to walk, hesitantly, and then with greater speed. Then he started to walk unevenly, a kind of side to side gait. The camera took a tight shot. My mouth went dry. In awe, I realized that right in front of my eyes his short leg was growing!
    The lady looked absolutely shocked. She picked the boy up and hugged him. The people were shouting now. The music swelled and then as if on cue it stopped.
    The man named Jim held a pencil in front of the little boy. "Take this," he said. The boy reached out with his good arm. "Noâ€, he said, "I want you to take it with your other hand."
    It was obvious that the little boy had to think about this. He paused for a few seconds. I held my breath and then as if in slow motion he straightened out that little shriveled up arm and with a firm grab took the pencil.
    The people let out shout of joy that shook me to my soul. I breathed in a lung full of air. My eyes began to fill with tears.
    Then the man named Jim turned and faced the camera. He seemed to be looking right at me.
    "What just happened is real," he said. "Very real and it's just the start. Jesus wants to heal children tonight. He is going to heal children tonight, sick children, and crippled children. They will walk. They will see. They will hear."
    Then this little man with the round face, funny smile and slicked back hair pointed his finger at a boy sitting on a couch and changed his life forever.
    "Parents, go and pray for your children. Big brothers go and lay your hands on your little brothers or sisters and do it now! "
    Suddenly, without thinking, I got off the couch, ran down the hall, made a sharp left turn into my sisters' room and stopped in front of Penni's crib where her little form was asleep under her favorite blanket.
    My mind went blank. What do I do? Touch her. I did that. Maybe I should put my arm in the air like those people. I did that. Now ask God in the name of Jesus to heal this crooked little foot. Yes. I will. I did.
    "Oh please God, please, Jesus, please, please make her foot well." It was all I knew how to say. It was enough.
    I began to shake. I began to sweat. My knees became so weak I thought I would fall. Then a feeling or maybe it was a kind of presence seemed to be in me or around me. I became calm and peaceful on the inside while still shaking on the outside, and I started to cry. I felt like I was not me anymore. Somebody that was me, but not me, took my place and this somebody was better, cleaner, a new person. And this new person knew that Penni's little foot was now perfectly fine.
    I'm not sure how long I stood there. I was surrounded by something very special and I just keep breathing it in. After awhile I knew the moment had passed. Feeling a little weak and still trembling, I went back to the den to tell my parents what had happened.
    The next day watching Penni run around without the need to hold someone's hand was an amazing, wonderful sight. Just as wonderful was the change in my family and in me.
    For a short while I had been connected to something infinitely great. It was a power older than time itself. I was no longer centered on myself. I was at peace.
    The questions that haunted me no longer needed answers.
    But the story isn't over yet...
  8. -Gramps-

    The Tango

    By -Gramps-,

    Before Diane and I became Motorhome owners, and before my son entered college, we were avid cruisers. This is the story of our first one, which took place a bunch of years ago. This story, which I wrote years ago, will take up some blog space until next week when we shall once again hit the road in our UFO and I write about it.
    THE TANGO
    My wife Diane is always collecting stories and anecdotes from people. For years if she hears something interesting from somebody she will tell me about it. She will cut things out of the newspaper or a magazine and stick it on the refrigerator door for me to find. She also reads me e-mail. Just the other day she found a piece of mail that her cousin Elaine sent her months ago. Somehow it ended up in some pc desktop folder somewhere and she overlooked it. She found it just the other day, the same day she was told that her mother has Alzheimer's Disease.
    God woke a man during the middle of the night and told him that he would find a very large rock in his front yard. God told the man to get up and push it. The man wanted to do what God told him so he went outside and started pushing the rock. He pushed with his hands, his back and with his legs. He gave it everything he had but the rock would not move, not one little bit. For hours everyday he would push it.
    One night while lying in bed, exhausted from all the pushing, the devil came to him and said, "Why do you bother, you have not moved that rock at all. You are nothing but a failure."
    The man thought about this and complained to God. "Hey God what about it? I have pushed that rock for months now and it still sits there! Why tell me to move it when I can't?"
    God answered, "I never said anything about moving the rock, I told you just to push it. You can't move the rock. Only I can move it ... but now your legs are stronger, your back is stronger, your hands are tough and calloused …now you are no longer weak."
    My wife is strong. For years the rock that she pushed looked a lot like my head. We have been through some tough times, many of them Derrick-inflicted. I choose to be driven by a need to be successful in business (so driven that I took our savings and put them into a cash bleeding business without telling her) as opposed to being successful as a husband and father. But Diane keep pushing. One night God moved the rock.
    In May 1985, Diane spent four weeks in the hospital pregnant with our son Joel. She developed acute toxemia along with high blood pressure and spent most of those four weeks laying on her right side with the rails up on her bed and just over her head, a tongue depressor taped to the wall. At the end of three weeks Joel was delivered early by Caesarian section. He entered into this world with a very bad set of lungs. After delivery Diane's blood pressure shot up so high, it put her on the edge of a stroke. I could have lost them both.
    God took the rock from her and put it in my court, so to speak. In the span of one night I started to remember what was most important in my life, Diane and my kids. That night, I did a lot of pushing, or should I say praying? My son, who is now a champion cross-country runner, and my wife recovered. I started to recover but it took a while. I sold the business two years later; it also took me awhile to realize it was not much of a loss.
    So, Diane and I continued our cruise called life together, and this day found ourselves on this nice white ship ....
    We played a few more games of shuffleboard. She approaches the game with a lot of patience and moves the puck gracefully to the end of the court. Me, I slam the thing like Osama himself is my opponent and I want to tear his toes off, thus the phrase 10 OFF. "Not so hard" she says, hopping around on her left foot after failing to yield to a flying red disk. "For Pete's sake, it's only a game not a missile launching," So we went to the game room and tried our hand at Scrabble, where this time she beat the pants off me.
    Later that afternoon we went poolside to catch a few rays and a few hamburgers and check out a snorkeling demonstration. We planned to snorkel on our own at Playa Del Carmen the next day and at Cozumel with a group (including our tablemates Blair and Larry) the day after that. We hung around the pool for awhile, watched a few guys shoot skeet. Some of the shooters were a bit Coronafied so the clay pigeons were in no real danger. "Pull!" BANG! "**** I missed!" was often heard as the afternoon progressed. I was surprised to see how tall and how many drinks were being served. I was also surprised that the pool was full of saltwater.
    We did not stay around the pool too long. Diane "convinced" me that we would have fun taking a ballroom dance lesson in the Disco. I knew how to dance, well I could move anyway and do whatever it was that we did in the early 70's that we called dancing. We headed back to our cabin, grabbed a quick spritz, you could hardly call that thing a shower, changed and headed up to the Disco.
    We were the first potential students in the disco. There was a small couple there that looked to be quite a bit older than Diane and I. The woman was arranging chairs around the small dance floor and the man (who I couldn't help noticing was wearing a bad toupee) was setting up a portable record player on a table. We said hello and found them to be very animated and friendly. We made introductions all around. Their names were Lenny and Thelma. More people arrived so Lenny and Thelma suggested that to get things rolling they would demonstrate the dance that they were about to teach. Lenny started the record player and over the first few recognizable notes of the music announced in dramatic fashion that we were, in one lesson, going to become masters of "THE TANGO"….. Oh boy. It begins like this; the Man steps forward, woman steps backward.
    I watch them carefully. They seemed to know the proper steps but something seemed wrong. It did not look exactly like any Tango I had seen done on TV or in the movies, but of course that is not real life. We were on a cruise ship, which is closer to real life… right? STEP,STEP,STEP,,,SLIDE.,, STEP,STEP,STEP,SLIDE…I whispered to Diane that it looked like they were trying not to step in something nasty, getting in it anyway and then wiping their feet on the floor trying to get it off.. She told me to shut up. STEP, STEP, STEP, SLIDE, STEP, STEP,,DIP. Thelma received a halfhearted backwards bend from her partner. I think Lenny was afraid that if he bent over too far his toupee would end up on her nose. I thought to myself do I really want to learn this? "Yes you are going to do this with me" I forgot that Diane reads half empty minds. Out on the floor we went.
    Some frustrated minutes and bruised toes later we finished our lesson. It was my opinion, that trying to learn the Tango as one's first attempt at ballroom dancing coupled with the fact that the dance floor moved on its own every now then seemed a bit hard if not downright silly.
    Diane loved it, so it is just possible that my opinion was all wet.
    We finished our lesson, gave our thanks to our instructors and headed off to afternoon tea. Now that was something that I could handle without a lesson.
    Afternoon tea was great, lots of horse-d-ovaries, canapés and things like that. Dinner was only two and half hours away so Diane nibbled. I stuffed myself. Afterwards we strolled below to our cabin to get dressed for the first formal night.
    Diane wore a very attractive light blue and pink silk dress with a simple string of pearls and flat shoes. I put on my best suit, (it happened to be kaki colored) white shirt, tie and leather soled shoes. It did not take us long to change so we had some time to kill before dinner. Diane suggested we go up to the ballroom and practice what we had learned at our Tango lesson….oh boy. Sure why not. She smiled and headed up the stairs. I head down, reluctantly followed.
    Well, folks I tried, I really did. We must have been working at it for about thirty minutes
    when I did it, I creamed Diane's left foot. I mortally wounded those perfect little toes of hers. At the moment of impact tears came to all our eyes. "Oooooowwwww!"
    Off came her shoe and she limped to the nearest chair and set down hard. I expected her to heave her shoe at my head but she held on to it and her temper.
    I was just about to make an emphatic apology when I heard a male voice behind me say "Could you use some help?" I turned around to see a handsome older couple standing by the edge of the dance floor. He was a tall man wearing an obviously custom made tuxedo with a hand tied (at the moment untied) tie and she, much shorter than him, was wearing gold lame' evening slacks with an elegant orange blouse and matching fingernail polish. He reminded me of Tony Bennett and she looked like Janet Leigh, the way she looked in 1987. I don't remember their names so I will Call them Tony and Janet.
    Diane, who by this time was worried that I might turn her toes into something that resembled Vienna Sausages, of course said "Yes, we would appreciate any help you can give us." She never asked what kind of help he was offering. We introduced ourselves.
    "I see you must have taken Lenny's Tango lesson today." I nodded yes. Tony continued. "Well, Lenny is a very nice man"
    "His hair isn't" Janet interjected. Tony smiled, so did I
    "As I was saying, Lenny and Thelma are very nice people, but they have no business giving dance lessons. For some reason Lenny thinks he can, and the captain lets him because he cruises on this ship about sixteen times a year. He practically lives here….anyway, let Janet and I show you how the Tango should be done."
    He took her by the hand and the waist, and immediately she seemed to grow a foot taller. He stepped forward, no change that, he glided forward she moved back and across the floor they moved like mercury. No music, not a sound except the smooth rustling of their clothes. They moved as one, smooth and fluid …..one two three, one two three
    This is how to dance the tango!
    Feel the blood rise to your face
    with every beat;
    while an arm winds like a snake
    around a waist that is about to break.
    This is how to dance the tango
    and I swore their feet never came off the floor, like they were ice skating. I was amazed.
    Somewhere I read that the Tango has beat, impact and nuances. It is not a soft wave turned into music, it is the deepest dance in the world.
    Tony and Janet walked over to us. '' Now we show you" Tony took Diane by the waist and Janet took my hand and said….
    "The Tango is a dance of seduction. The man must lead, he must lead forcefully, he steps forward the woman steps backward, and you move like water across the floor. And you move as one okay?. Now take my waist and lead me. No do not look at your feet. You cannot seduce a woman by looking at her feet, you must look her deep in the eyes, again!….good, good now you are catching on''
    I thought I must have been terrible. Tony said "you know Janet and I watched you too dancing last night, you are very good together even when doing it wrong. You should take lessons. Well, we enjoyed it. Derrick, we will see you on the dance floor tonight eh?"
    I nodded yes. "Good, I may ask to dance with your beautiful wife again."
    The announcement came over that Main Seating was now being served.
    I had completely forgotten about dinner. Can you believe that?
    Now you may have noticed that this story seemed to be missing a beggining. That is so. Therefore before I tell you more about the Tango let me start from the very beginning. Originally it was written for a cruise blog and took days. You get the pleasure of reading it all at once!
    The Railing
    I am writing this while on hold with the Virginia Dept of Taxation in order to stop collections proceedings for a business tax bill that I have already paid and the check has cleared the bank. This is something that I have to do at least once a year. I keep hearing the same hold announcements over and over again along with Grazing in the Grass. It is in moments of stress like these that I imagine myself back on the deck of a cruise ship.
    In October of 1987, to celebrate our 15th wedding anniversary, my wife Diane and I went on our first cruise. It was a present from her father and it could not have come at a better time. For the previous four years I ran a start up telecommunications company that I was part owner of. In spite of, or because of, the fact that I gave it fifteen hours out of most days, I was not able to get it off the ground. So in June of that year my partners decided to sell it. I went to work for the very old, and very well set in their ways, family owned company that bought it. My going to work for them was part of the purchase agreement. The transition from boss to upper level manager was a little rough so I needed a vacation even if I didn't think so myself.
    We gave a lot thought to the cruise in the days leading up to it. Planning as a WE is one of the best consequences of cruising. What documents do we bring. What do we wear. What excursions do we take. We had not been a We in a while. We is good.
    The first day was a long one. The flight to Miami was fun, the embarkation was fun. Watching the other cruise ships leave with ours was fun. Our ship was the Chandris Galileo. She was a 28,000 ton dazzling white beauty with a big blue X on her stack.
    We found our little orange carpeted cabin with the RV like bathroom, explored the ship, held hands, more than we had in years, had an unbelievable dinner, went dancing, went to bed. I was beginning to feel like a new man. After Diane went to sleep I went up on deck for a solitary stroll. I walked aft to a part of the Promenade deck that jutted out over the sea. I turned around and faced forward. Completely alone, I could see down the whole length of the ship. The sky was full of stars. The ocean was a luminous deep blue. In the distance was the lighted outline of our companion cruise ships. The only sound was a divine mixture of the wind, the sea, and the thrum of the ship. I held on to the cool smooth mahogany, closed my eyes and just stood there with the warm 18 knot wind in my face. I remembered something. A verse. "He leadeth me beside still waters. He restoreth my soul."
    I could taste salt. It may have been the spray or it might have been tears. Maybe a bit of both.
    Night and Greek Sunrise
    I did not sleep much that night. A more accurate way of phrasing it would be I stayed awake well that night. I crawled back into bed with Diane, which was a tight fit since we were sharing a single bed. (Our cabin had an upper berth and two lower beds but I never asked if they could be converted into one.) I laid there, while gently rocking, listening to the sounds around me. Our outside cabin was on the lowest passenger deck and as a result the sound of the ocean was quite strong. There was also a regular creak like a rocking chair accompanied by a clicking noise as the ship moved back and forth then up and down. Creak click, creak, click. In the pale light from our large porthole I could see that the bathroom door latch was a bit loose. ( If I left the door open it would inform us just how much the ship was listing). The motion, the ocean, the creak, muffled steps down the corridor, my wife's baby like snoring, all told me that the ship was alive and breathing. It was one of the most peaceful nights of my adult life.
    Sometime before the first gray-blue light of morning I was jostled awake by a very attractive Greek woman rolling across me on her way out of our bed. I awoke to the pleasant sight of Diane in her Adam and Eve nightgown falling to the cabin floor with one brown barefoot trapped in the corner of the blanket. She gave her tootsies a liberating yank, at the same time informing me that we had a dawn to catch. Seeing the dawn was not the first thing on my activity list and I raised an inquiring eyebrow. She was literally hopping into her shorts, at the same time telling me No!, we are going to see the dawn, get dressed! Not being completely stupid I obeyed and then grabbed my Minolta.
    I watched Diane's backside (couldn't help myself) as we headed up to the Lido Deck or the Promenade Deck, or the Captain's Deck, one of those decks just in time to see a very distant dark white cloud show the first sign of a new paint job. I steadied my camera on the rail and did not have a long wait for God to put on a very good light show. It was glorious. I happened to look to me left and in the distance an ever enlarging Island was exhibiting its own amazing color changes. The Island of Key West seemed to be sailing toward us at the same time we were moving toward it. I looked at the Sunrise shining on my Greek Girl's smiling face. There was only one thing to say
    What's for Breakfast?!
    The Promenade Deck (sit down and eat your prunes)
    "Sir, breakfast in now being served for first seating in the dining room and the breakfast buffet is on the Promenade Deck."
    I turned around and there was a young lady in white shorts and a yellow shirt with a Staff badge on that said Juli no e. I thanked her.
    Breakfast on the Promenade Deck. Made me feel special. The Promenade Deck. The Lido Deck. The Captain's Deck. The MAIN Deck. All these names have a certain old fashioned charm and romantic quality about them. They remind me of the days before the big war (I wasn't there) or even earlier when gigantic 45,000 to 75,000 ton cruise ships crossed the Big Pond on a regular basis. The Mauritania, The Queen Mary, The France, the United States (for years she was dejectedly docked close to my home, Her once magnificent red stacks peeling sheets of paint. It was hard to keep my eyes off her as I made my morning commute). The United States and the others were iron ships with hearts made of brass, mahogany and teak. In those days three types of people sailed on cruises. First Class, Second Class, and Human Baggage. But all were excited at the first shout of "AMERICA". I love those deck names. I missed them when Diane and I were on Explorer of the Seas. I know they can be confusing. One of the comments I heard most often on the Carnival Sensation was "I don't know why I have to go Down to get to the Upper Deck!" Half the time I could not remember where our cabin, M44, was. I now know M stands for Main, I thought it meant Mine. Just kidding. But I digress.
    We ran down the stairs (in true maritime stairs are called ladders) one deck. We ran like we were kids trying to pass each other. We skidded up to the buffet and came to a shocked stop. I had never seen anything like it in my life. There was this huge white cloth covered table on the bleached wooden deck of this white ship with the brightest blue sea in the background covered with more breakfast food than any 50 teenage boys could possible eat. And the things they did with watermelons. They were carved in the shape of a grinning Indian with an eagle feather in his hair, a coiled snake, a woven basked with a handle, all done in one piece, and a huge vase of watermelon roses. Diane immediately said "Don't touch anything" She knows me. There were five or six members of the kitchen staff in their white coats and stiff Chef hats standing at attention behind the table, with its stacks of china plates, bowls, cups and saucers, all monogrammed with a gold X in the middle of a gold sunburst . The Chefs had omelet pans, tongs, and carving knifes drawn like sabers to fight off the evil of an empty stomach. Sausage, salmon, bagels, kiwi fruit, (I had no idea what that hairy little thing was) pomegranates, bananas, polenta, white fish, herring, olives (at least 10 kinds) French fries, home fries, hash browns, iced wine buckets with all kinds of juices including pomegranate juice, (for Gods sake how many seeds did that take), Mimosas (I still like those) and the pastries, they were piled up in a basket 3 foot high. Also Eggs Benedicts, Waffles, Inch thick French toast with powdered sugar, and scrambled eggs. I dug in.
    I had some kind of I can't believe all this spasm and jostled a little elderly lady's elbow in line in front of me. She was balancing a heavy china plate on which set a matching bowl full of stewed prunes.
    "Sorry," I said "can you believe all this food, and look at the watermelons, and..and that ship it's made of ice. I'll be damned.!"
    The little lady, prune bowl skating madly on her plate, craned her neck and squinting in the morning light looked up at me.
    "Young man I suggest you sit down and eat Your prunes! And I would like to eat mine!"
    She seemed upset so I didn't want to tell her that I hated prunes.
    Diane said she thought I should do what the lady suggested.
    "But I don't like prunes."
    Now we all know that the food on cruises is included but when your are married to someone who is very careful with money, clips coupons, and has three small kids, a husband that is six foot tall and weighs 140 pounds because he has the metabolic rate of a blast furnace, the next line in this story should come as no surprise
    "Then you shouldn't take what you're not going to eat."
    I looked at my plate, on it was a lot of stuff including smoked salmon ,olives, cream cheese, ham, those hairy brown things, a mound of scrambled eggs, which made the perfect nest for a large number of stewed prunes.
    I guess I should have paid more attention.
    Scrambled eggs
    We sat down at a table next to the railing. The sun was so bright and so hot and felt so good. Two happy people, to huge plates of food, two large wet glasses of iced orange juice glistening in the sun. As part of a pre cruise plan we deliberately ate slowly.
    "Enjoying your eggs?" Diane asked.
    Being to polite to answer with my mouth full, I gave her a grateful nod.
    "Good" She leaned closer for emphasis. "Eat it all, Stick Man."
    This was not a reference to the philosophical comment she made earlier about my prunes (at the moment sunbathing on the extreme edge of my plate) No, this comment was a not so veiled reference to a part of the same pre cruise plan. A plan she hatched on the plane down to Miami.
    We were in our seats admiring our new sneakers. (buying new sneakers, preferably Reeboks because we are stockholders, has become one of our pre cruise traditions . We buy them weeks before and don't wear them until the first day of the cruise. It's good to have a fresh set of tires when you plan to put a lot of quick miles on them}. Diane leaned over for emphasis of course and said "We need to fatten you up, we also need to relax so the plan is: rest a lot, read a lot, eat a lot, enjoy it, don't inhale it." Yes Dear. I was too thin. While running "the business" I found most meals to be inconvenient unless they were business related. I skipped breakfast, ate lunch at my desk, and most nights I arrived home so late that I had to eat alone or not at all. I more times than not, choose not at all. I had earned Diane's nickname for me "Stick Man". I was fortunate that she was still sticking with me. I owe her a lot including the fact that I can enjoy scrambled eggs.
    Before marrying Diane I hated them. My brother and I liked fried eggs. My mom did not like to cook. My dad did. My mom had to cook when Dad was out at sea. She could manage a few things, She made a mean fried chicken, fried hamburgers, fried green tomatoes, fried bacon, fried eggs. She fixed eggs the way her father liked them. Over Very Easy in bacon grease. Not bad actually, with home fries, and hot coffee sipped from a saucer. My grandfather obviously knew about heat displacement relative to surface area. This was a good cooling technique but I would not suggest using it in the My Fair Lady Dining Room.
    Back to my Mom and her eggs. . If the yolk broke the egg was no good and deserved to be punished. Attack it viciously with a fork and scramble it to death! Waste Nothing! Serve its confused and stringy remains to the boys, they will live! I had a hyper active adolescent gag reflex. Breakfast could get very ugly. Mom could get very mad. You get the picture.
    On October 9 1972 a Monday Morning that will live in infamy Diane my new bride who I loved very much was standing in our rented orange kitchen fixing scrambled eggs for her new hubby's breakfast. She called me and I came down the stairs to find this beautiful long legged Greek Girl with raven black hair that she could sit on trying to poison me. I had two choices I could refuse to eat this and risk a divorce or eat it and risk death. I chose death.
    She stood there in her baby dolls with this look on her face that only a woman can get when she has just fixed her man, now her new husband, his first meal (or his last).
    "Isn't this nice." I said.
    They did look edible, fluffy and yellow with what's this? Onions and green peppers and no bacon grease dripping from my fork. Oh well, life is an adventure and then you die.
    I took a small bite, and then a very big bite. I'm Alive! I'm Alive! Thank God almighty my wife can cook!
    THE TWO KEYS
    I am sitting at my quickly becoming obsolete computer (hey as long as it works for me) listening to Diana Krall. She is singing a good song that goes with this rambling, review- memoir, thing that I'm writing.
    How Deep is the Ocean (How High is the Sky)
    How much do I love you?
    I'll tell you no lie.
    How deep is the ocean?
    How high is the sky?
    How many times a day
    Do I think of you?
    How many roses are sprinkled with dew?
    How far would I travel
    just to be where you are?
    How far is the journey
    from here to a star?
    And if I ever lost you
    how much would I cry?
    How deep is the ocean?
    How high is the sky?
    Diane has taught me one of the keys to enjoying life and it works for cruising as well. Just roll with it. Don't be afraid to try something new (ESCARGO), don't let a past unpleasantness (refer to above egg discription) dictate your future attitude. Believe me. we have had to practice this mantra on more than one occasion. (story may follow at some point)
    There was no unpleasantness on this trip; we just let the Good Times Roll.
    We finished breakfast and began wandering around the outside of the ship waiting for our tender group number to be called. The tender from Key West was small. It looked like a Zodiac boat. So we had some time to kill before we could head for the island. The first thing I noticed was now that the ship was at anchor there were crew hanging all over her. Blue overalls were in lowered lifeboats with long handled white paint rollers, they were hanging out the portholes with rust chippers. Crew were clinging to the stack like big blue bugs with paint brushes. The never ending Battle against Rust and Corrosion was once again in full engagement. Ship Shape is the order of the Day!
    All the ships that we have cruised on have been in tip top shape. The Enchantment of the Seas had more people polishing the deck than they had passengers walking the deck (at 3 o'clock in the morning). I was afraid that if I stood in one place for too long someone with a Royal Caribbean badge would wipe me down. Ship Shape means something on these ships. It's great! If you make a mess someone else picks it up (not at home) At dinner if you don't like it send it back! (Don't try that at home!) If you want more just ask for it! (at home it depends on what your asking for) Relax! Enjoy! You are now out there, not back there!… Oh…I'm sorry…. didn't mean to get carried away, but we only have forty or so more days to go till our next one. (at the time I wrote this)
    We played a couple of games of shuffleboard ( best two out of three-I'm a shuffleboard shark, Diane didn't know that, she lost a big bet, but I can't tell you what the payout was, this is a family forum) We heard our number called so we went below, out to the tender dock on the opposite side of the boat from the island. The tender zoomed around the ship. At this distance she looked absolutely enormous. I started snapping pictures like crazy, Around we went and then the island came into view. We held hands, would you look at that Jimmy Buffets place. Neat.
    Now let's review our Plan: relax, go slow, don't inhale it. To **** With That! We had exactly 3 hours and 42 minutes to see the whole island of Key West ... Run!
    What's that over there? Hey would you look at that, is that a zucchini tree? Oh I thought they grew in trees. That shop looks cool lets go over there! Why? I forgot to pack my swimsuit. I set it out for you stupid! That one looks great on you. No it doesn't make your legs look skinny, your legs are skinny. I'm thirsty, we gotta grab a cup of that red stuff over there, I don't care if it cost 4 dollars, time is money! I want a picture of that. Hold Still! Are you trying to take a picture of it or me? Where is Hemingway's house?, I know it must be around here somewhere. Let me have that map, you have never been able to read a map. Here it is. How do you know? I don't see a sign. It must be, look at all the people standing in front of it. They are lost too. Man, its almost time to head back and I'm hungry. Hungry? You should have eaten your prunes. I don't like prunes. Wait, Derrick, Derrick look mother of pearl earrings exactly like the necklace you bought me in San Francisco, can we buy them, please?, please? Diane, if they make you happy get them, have anything that you want. You mean it? We didn't bring a lot of money you know. Diane this is a once in a lifetime trip get them. Oh, I love them, thank you. Kiss, Kiss, gotta go.
    We made it back to the ship and I really was hungry. As for the prunes, I figured I was better off without them. Key West was a moving experience good enough for me (sorry couldn't resist).
    After the Second Tango Lesson
    We left the ballroom and headed to the dining room. Larry and Blair were already seated and Enzo was patiently waiting for us. We sat down. My hope was that the dinner conversation would be better than it was on the first night. The first night consisted of introductions, where froms, airline critiques, and things like that. Tonight we got to the what do you dos. Larry became a little deflated when I informed him that I owned my own company and had recently sold it. I guess he was overwhelmed because he thought I was a mucho successful business owner. He perked up when my wife told him that I had to sale or go bust. With pride, he told me that he was in the hardware distribution business. He seemed to deflate again when Blair translated that to mean he worked in his father's hardware store. I found that interesting and told him so. I also told him that I earned the money to pay for the technical school that I had attended by working for a summer in a hardware store. That's nice, he said.
    Actually the summer I spent working at Reynolds's True Value Hardware was a good one. I learned about good and bad customer service. I learned that there are both good and bad customers. I learned that they are called wing nuts not butterfly nuts. (There is a joke there but never mind) I learned how to rip plywood, thread pipe, avoid a mad female Doberman, assemble lawn mowers, bicycles, and all kinds of lawn furniture. I also learned how to demonstrate and sell portable washer and dryers, pop up campers, power tools and vacuum cleaners. I learned that anything sold to the maritime industry is expensive because they need it in a hurry, and it needs to be made of brass.
    Of course when I worked there I had no idea that I would one day make good money traveling around the world installing phone systems on ships. That's one of the things I do now. They are expensive and there is some brass involved. And they usually need them in a hurry, even when it means traveling to Diego Garcia.
    Tonight I ordered the Prime Rib and a good bottle of wine to share. The wine seemed to make dinner a little more enjoyable. We chatted for a while, drank for a while, ate dessert, finalized our plans for the next day and headed off to the Fantasy Lounge to try out our new Tango skills.
    As soon as we walked into the lounge, Tony and Janet spotted us and waved us over to two seats next to them. We sat down and not being drinkers ordered a couple of Virgin Coladas. The drinks arrived, they where not Virgins. After a couple of sips we didn't care.
    Janet tapped Diane on the knee and pointed to the dance floor. Our first instructors Lenny and Thelma were there doing their thing. Janet said they looked like a couple of strutting pigeons. The description seemed quite accurate to me.
    Tony asked me if he could dance with Diane, and of course I said sure. Tony offered Diane his arm and they walked to the floor. Tony then said something to the band leader and a couple of seconds later the band started playing the Tango. Diane and Tony glided across the floor like they had been dancing together for years. It looked magical. Thelma and Lenny, they looked, well they looked like they had been strutting together for years.
    The dance ended, Diane and Tony, who seemed to be limping slightly, sat back down. I then found out that Tony was a professional dancer and dance instructor. He had danced musical theatre and also owned a number of dance studios. He retired from dancing professionally after breaking his ankle in a car accident. Now his and Janet's full time job was cruising. He also told me that if the conditions were just right, his ankle would quit hurting and allow him to glide across the floor once more. Twice today the conditions had been just right.
    I think Diane was flattered. She should be.
    She and I danced until the place closed. We then went for a walk and sometime in the AM went to bed in our single bunk. It was a tight fit, which after a few minutes became even tighter.
    The next day while at Playa del Carmen we were entertained by the crew. They challenged us (the passengers) to volleyball, horseshoes, and tug of war. They let go of the rope during that contest. My butt was bruised for days when I landed on somebody's knee. I also received very good sunburn that day. I slept in the other bunk that night. Diane was disappointed I'm sure.
    I never finished the story of this cruise ... so to be continued, maybe.
  9. -Gramps-

    The Thankmas Party

    By -Gramps-,

    The Thankmas Party and the Christmas Bash
    Well, the weekend of November 20 was another short but nice trip. Diane, Nickolas and I, took off at about three o'clock on a Friday for North River Campground near the southern end of the Dismal Swamp in Currituck, North Carolina. We headed for our annual Good Sam's local chapter combination Christmas and Thanksgiving party; our Thankmas party. It is something we look forward to each year. It was supposed to have happened the weekend before at Camp Hatteras but the Storm of the Decade wiped out the road leading to Rodanthe so we had to move the location.
    We would have left earlier than three, but I waited until the last minute to purchase my gift for the party. We always have the give a gift/steal a gift ceremony. It usually works out better with a large crowd because someone will get into the spirit of things and steal something. When we have a small crowd, which was the case this time, things don't get quite so rowdy. I purchased a Mexican Train game in a metal travel case, along with a gift bag and some grocery items that Diane needed for the Saturday night pot luck and Turkey Dinner.
    It was a quick trip down. We setup camp and all was well until I tried to turn the 12 volts on for the water heater. I received a fault alarm. After some double checking I discovered I had no propane flow. Now why was that? It worked the last time I used it. Well, I switched to 110 volts and we left for the Friday night get-together without hot water to wash our faces first. We had some snacks, played some cards which was fun, and then went home.
    The next morning, after the group breakfast, my friend Jerry and I decided to take a look and see what was going on with the propane. The first thing we made sure of was that the tank was turned on. Which it was, but it didn't sound right. Usually when I first turn on the flow you hear a hiss, but we didn't get that familiar sound this time. We took a couple of wrenches and disconnected the rubber hose from the coach line and discovered some kind of olive oil like substance in the fitting. Once we blew that unknown substance out everything started working again.
    For most of the day I worked around the RV, repairing sweeps and some other small items. There was a group committee reworking our charter bylaws, so I stopped by the meeting room to offer some hopefully helpful input. Around five, we had our really good ThanksmasTurkey dinner followed by the gift swap. I was the master of ceremonies and I tried to liven things up a bit, but for some reason people were not in the spirit of stealing at all. I was the first one to draw a number and picked a gift which I later swapped. Afterward I did entertain us all with some tales of mine and Diane's first Christmas together as husband and wife and others piped up with some funny stories as well.
    We left the next morning pretty early, right after breakfast. As we were leaving we watched a bear cross the road in front of us. We were home by noon.
    For Thanksgiving, my daughter and her family drove up from Florida. I turned the coach into a temporary hotel room for her, her husband and the baby. We had a very crowded house for about four days. Diane loved it. I felt claustrophobic, so I hid in my office with my grandboys and played computer games with them. Austen and I swapped off sessions of Battlefield Heroes, a somewhat goofy online cartoon shooter. It was fun and helped me avoid all the Legos and Duplos scattered around the house. We went to my brother's house for Thanksgiving dinner along with about 25 other members of my extended family, including my parents. It was a very good dinner and lots of fun including a loud session of football watching. I really don't know how my brother and his wife managed to pull it off so well, but they did.
    Now this past weekend Diane, me, and our friends Gary and Janis traveled to the Beth Page Campground in Urbanna for the annual FMCA Colonial Virginians Christmas Bash. And it was just that, a Bash, a good one too.
    We planned on leaving on Friday around noon. Our two coaches would rendezvous at the inspection station for the Monitor and Merrimac bridge tunnel, the M&M as it is known around these parts, and then it would be about an hour drive to the campground. We'd set up camp and then have plenty of time to relax a bit before the group happy hour at five.
    Simple enough, right? It didn't work out quite that way.
    At 11:45 a.m. we were ready to go. That would give us just enough time to make it to the meeting spot. We headed out to the rig only to find that a car was parked on the street blocking the coach. Diane, on the walkie-talkie, tried to get the rig past it but it would not make it; just not enough room. So she walked up to the door of the duplex where she hoped to find the owner of the car and ask them to move it. I turned off the coach and then realized my tail end was still out over the road and I needed to move it. It wouldn't start. Dead. Nothing, No lights on the dash, no click, not even the dome light would work. The steps were dead, too. I was not getting any voltage from the chassis battery at all. So I jumped out of the coach, took a meter to the battery and I got 11 volts. My brain was racing now trying to figure out what was wrong, and how was I going to get this rig started and moved. Could we still make our trip? By this time Diane has found no one at home in the duplex and was standing behind me.
    "Can you jump it with the car?" she asked.
    Jump it? Wait, I can boost it!
    "I forgot about the battery boost!" I told her.
    I rushed back into the coach, hit the boost switch, turned the key and she started right up. Diane got on the phone with Janis to fill her in on why we are going to be delayed. We still had the problem of getting around the parked car. I fixed that. I had Diane back me straight back into the yard across the street, which is mostly gravel, around the car and then I made a forward right turn. She jumped into the coach and we were off.
    An hour and some minutes later, including the time it took to meet up with Gary and Janis, we arrived at Beth Page. Diane registered and we were led by a campground worker in a golf cart to our head to tail (or tail to head) site.
    It was really cold. My hands were freezing as we leveled, hooked up the power and ran out the slides. Lastly, I hooked up the water and discovered that the right door piston was shot. I found that out after the bay door dropped and hit me on the back of the head. Usually I bang into a door or the slide out not the other way around. I also discovered that there was no water. I knew that Beth Page was closed for the winter and opened just for this rally, but I didn't get the memo telling me to bring my own water or I would have arrived with more than a tenth of a tank. Gary didn't get the memo, either, and his fresh water tank was bone dry.
    We had no choice but to break down, go to the office, where there was one working faucet, and fill up. That's what we did, along with five other coaches. I left first, arrived at the office and with some help, threw my fresh water hose under the coach, hooked up and waited about 15 minutes to acquire three quarters of a tank of water. That was enough. While I was filling, Gary informed me his main slideout had decided to malfunction as he was bringing it in at the site. The bottom right corner had torqued itself so bad that the frame had broken lose from the outside of the coach. He had a heck of time getting it to come back in.
    With full tanks, or close enough, anyway, we headed back to the site and set up again. I was still having to use the boost to get the coach started so obviously something was going on, but I managed to get the coach leveled, slides out, power connected, not in that order, and the Snowmen that Diane had set out when we first arrived were still smiling at me from their place on the dining table credenza. I walked back to Gary's coach only to find out that now he can't start his coach either. I am beginning to find this a bit freaky. I suggested he use his boost. That worked and he was able to level the coach, which requires the motor to be running, and then he nursed his slides out a bit tentatively but they made it. At this point, Gary is now an unhappy camper. I don't blame him. I have been there a bunch of times.
    "What's going on with my battery?" he asks.
    "Not sure," I replied. "But since we both have the same coach and we both have the same problem, well it's weird, that's all I can tell you."
    Our common weird problem had to wait. It was almost five o'clock and time to head over to the happy hour, which by this time we both needed. I went back to our coach, changed into something a bit nicer, grabbed a plate of shrimp and a bottle of beer, shoved the beer into a picnic backpack, that I bought from one of our Sun chaser friends who got it at the Thanksmas party but didn't think they would use it, and we loaded everything and everybody into Janis's Vue and a couple of minutes later arrived at the evening's party.
    There was lots of fine finger foods there, including good sized shrimp, meat balls, cheese and crackers, hot wings along with brownies, cheese cake and other things that are easy to eat and easy to eat too much of. I did eat too much, but I didn't care.
    Along with the goodies we had pleasant conversation. Two friends of ours, Bill and his wife Mickey, were at our table. They are also members of our Good Sam's chapter. They didn't make it to the Thanksmas party and we missed them so it was very nice that they were at the Bash.
    Gary and I mentioned our electrical problem, slide out problems, and how aggravating it was. That was nothing compared to the lightning hit that scorched Bill and Mickey's stored coach. The lightning did some fourteen thousand dollars worth of damage to the coach and took months to repair. After hearing their story I thought about that old saying:
    "I complained that I had no shoes until I met a person with no feet"
    Many times our coaches may have a problem, but many times someone else will have a bigger problem, one that you hope will never happen to you. It's best to just keep it in perspective.
    After too many shrimp and meatballs (for me anyway), a couple glasses of wine, a beer (also for me) and a lot of Mexican train we called it a night, packed up and drove back to the coaches.
    After Gary, Janis, Diane and I said our good nights, Diane and I decided to curl up with Nicolas and a good movie. Diane had experienced some minor back pain most of the day. A bit of self medication at Happy Hour seemed to help, but she still wanted to ice it for a while. She curled up on the couch with the dog; I started the Curious Case of Benjamin Button spinning in the DVD player and settled comfortably in my Euro chair. It wasn't long before Diane was out like a light. I watched the movie by myself, and enjoyed every minute of it.
    As soon as the movie ended I was ready to hit the sack. I woke Diane up so she could go to bed and go back to sleep.
    The next morning all four of us, with Diane's back feeling much better, headed back to the conference center for a catered breakfast and another opportunity to eat too much. There were good biscuits, gravy, bacon, light and fluffy scrambled eggs, and pancakes. All of it fixed really well. I didn't overdo it. I know-you don't believe me.
    Bill and Mickey were at our table again and this time the conversation was about the remodeling of their Allegro Bay that was done down in Red Bay Alabama. It sounded like they had some really fine improvements made so we all agreed that sometime before the rally ended we would visit their coach and take a look for ourselves.
    After breakfast and back at the site, Gary and I decided to tackle this strange electrical problem we were both having.
    We used my volt ohm meter to try to trace down where this problem could be coming from. While we were at it a couple of other campers, Jack and Buddy, walked over to see what we were up to. Jack was a bit of an electrician so he said "let's tackle one of the coaches and see what we find out."
    After a bit of poking around inside the electrical control panel, which was located in its own compartment, and some crawling around under the engine, we discovered that both coaches were suffering from a manual battery disconnect switch not making good contact. What are the odds of that? After some manipulation to shake the rust off so to speak, and some squirts of electrical silicon spray, the problem seemed to be solved. One down, who knows how many more to go.
    Well, we had some hours to kill before the big dinner and gift giving/gift stealing (yes another one!) party that night. We decided to head into the little waterfront town of Urbanna and see what there was to see.
    First we stopped at an auto parts store so Gary could buy a new gas cap for his coach. He misplaced his somewhere between Tampa and Tidewater. I brought mine along so that the store could match it. I have found it difficult to get parts for my coach at an auto parts store, makes no difference which one. As soon as you say this gas piston, light bulb, gas cap, whatever part, comes from a motor home, the guys or gals behind the counter look at you like you just ordered a cheeseburger.
    On this occasion the store had a compatible locking gas cap, at a good price so that problem was solved. I asked about a basement door piston, but not having the bad one with me, there wasn't anyway to match it. That would have to wait for another day. While there we saw something unusual on the counter. It was a large block of cement with shoes stuck in the middle of it. I am not sure what that item was for, but it did make for a number of in-law and ex wife jokes that I don't think I will repeat here.
    Our next stop was a good size flea/collectible/antique market located in a metal building. There were a number of interesting things in there including some Blue Danube dishes. Diane has a small collection of those and left the store with a purchase of a cup and saucer.
    We visited a couple of variety stores. No being in the market for variety, no matter what kind, I purchased nothing. Diane bought something else but I don't remember what it was.
    We did visit a nice clothing store where I found a black shirt with vertical colored stripes. It looked Christmassy and more important, it was forty percent off. Diane bought it for me along with a nice fleece vest for herself.
    The last thing we did was walk up the street to Olivia's Seafood Restaurant. We all had a cup, actually a bowl, of crab and shrimp bisque that was to use their words "Food of the Gods" and it was. I also had a fried oyster and shrimp salad with balsamic vinegar dressing. It was really good. I have not had good fried oysters in a long time.
    We made a stop at the local supermarket for a six pack of libations and then it was back to the campground.
    Diane and I showered, she went first, and I scalded myself second. I can never seem to adjust the temperature of the water when it comes from the water pump. Then I put on my new shirt for the evening's catered dinner. Once ready we grabbed our gifts, our picnic bag containing glasses and a bottle of wine and we were all off once more.
    I forget to tell you that Beth Page had the meeting/conf room decorated really nicely. There are beams on the ceiling, columns that ran length of the room on both sides and all had lights on them. There was a nice sized tree at the stage end of the room and all the tables had red tablecloths on them with a nice centerpiece, well in the center of the table.
    The night's dinner was a house salad, pork roast, very tender, with scalloped potatoes, and seasoned long green beans. We also really great dinner rolls and dessert, which I skipped, of hot apple crisp with vanilla ice cream.
    I tried not to overdue it. Before dinner was served, I started out with my own thermos of hot cider to which I added just a bit of Captain Jack's favorite liquid, Meyer's Rum. Two cups of that and I was feeling pretty good.
    As soon as dinner was over and the tables were cleared the gift giving and stealing time began. This took awhile, too long. People didn't attack their packages. They unwrapped them like they were wrapped with money and didn't want to tear the paper. At first no one wanted to steal anyone else's present. That changed as the evening went along. There were forty presents to give out, one per coach with a couple of exceptions Diane and I being one since we brought two gifts. The gifts that got stolen the most (and three times was the max) were animated mechanical singing floppy eared dogs. Diane took her gift and stole one of those cute singing Cocker Spaniels from someone. The very next person stole it from Diane and left her with a metal traveling case of grill utensils. I liked that present! It didn't matter that Diane was the one that bought it and brought it.
    The evening was fun and it eventually ended. We all had our pictures taken with Santa, we gave toys to the Marines Toys for Tots program, and we were all full of pork and other things. The only unpleasant thing was I was called a Rat Fink by the lady who lost her nice wine carrier containing two great bottles of wine to me and ended up with a bottle of Crown Royal with two matching glasses that got stolen by someone else. Hey you can't make everyone happy!
    By the time the party was over, Diane and I were pretty beat. We went back to the coach and took Nickolas for a long walk, and along the way chatted with other campers. Then we hit the sack and watched an episode of The Closer on the little bedroom TV.
    Next morning we had a continental breakfast, talked to some other campers, including the nice lady who thought I was a fink. After breakfast Bill, Gary and I went back to Gary's coach to help shove his slide back in. The girls all decided to walk over to Bill's coach to see the remodeling.
    As we were driving to the coach it started to pour down rain. Gary, who had tried to bring in his slide before breakfast and it stuck, now ran it back out. It dumped about ten gallons of water on me at the same time. Bill and I then grabbed a hold of it, he lifted while I pushed and with Gary on the in button, we man handled the slide closed.
    Bill then realized he had the keys to his coach. The girls were standing in the rain somewhere so we rushed to the car to go open the door. We found three wet ladies standing outside, but they were under umbrellas so it wasn't too bad. We visited the coach and found some really nice work had been done to it. There were new lights, couch, dining table, new floor, and other things. Having seen it before, I could tell a major difference. We visited for a few minutes and then said our goodbyes.
    It took Gary and me a bit to pack up our coaches in the rain. After he had a basement door that wouldn't close and I had a sewer line pop off and give me a brown set of shoes, we finally got underway. We were home after about two hours of driving in the rain.
    Yesterday I helped Gary diagnose his slide problems. We took pictures which were sent to the manufacturer and I spent some time on the phone getting advice about how to repair it. I relayed that advice to Gary and today he called me to inform me that most of the major repairs he was able to take care of himself. We both still need to get our slides adjusted and we both have some other things we want to get fixed. The thing is we are helping each other. That's what it is about.
    Diane said that one of the reasons we are so close to our RV friends is because they are there to help when you have troubles and there to share your joy when everything is going well. Friends are really the biggest part of the equation.
    They are there to help your coach to improve your life, if you let it.
    I think I have read that somewhere before.
    Merry Christmas!
  10. -Gramps-
    This past weekend we traveled to Shawboro, North Carolina for a camp out with our Good Sam's Chapter. Four coaches were there and our small group had a great time. Friday night it was a quick group dinner of steamed shrimp, potato and bacon soup, cornbread, tossed salad with blue cheese crumbles and plenty of good cookies for dessert. Then the ladies played Mexican Train while us men shot the breeze for awhile and then we played a number of hands of King's Corner. Saturday morning it was scrambled eggs, biscuits with sausage gravy, yogurt with tropical fruit and some huge muffins.
    During the afternoon Diane and I worked on the coach. After three months of sitting it needed some work.
    Saturday night it was corned beef and cabbage, in honor of St Paddy's day of course. We played a bunch of rounds of bingo for prizes, finished up our game of King's Corner and then played a rousing few rounds of Sequence (my new favorite game).
    It was good to get out again. We had a lot of simple fun. The only mishap was the almost loss of a wiper arm on the way down. That would not have been the first time. It seems my coach suffers from a too curved windshield and if the wipers are set to high while driving (in the rain of course) above fifty five, the wind may lift the driver side blade off the windshield and then it wraps itself around the rear view mirror. I am glad that there is a lot of Rain-X on my windshield or I would not have been able to see at all. Not a fun moment when it happens. On my list of bad moments I would put it down around twelve, which brings me back to the real purpose of this blog entry:
    Another Not So Good Coach Moment:
    Road Rage?
    This not-so-good moment happened on the same day my coach was stuck in the mud. Not long after the Bounder was pulled from its trap, Joel, Diane and I said our goodbyes to my parents and we were on the road again. For miles we could hear mud coming off the sides and the undercarriage of the coach, but other than my normally shiny coach now looking rather shabby, we were not bad off. My nerves were a bit shot, but I expected them to settle down while driving home. We had one stop to make first. We had planned on visiting Diane's cousin Elaine in Raleigh, North Carolina, spend some time with her including dinner together, continue on home and arrive around dark. Due to our muddy misadventure we were now running late. We would have to shorten our time with Elaine, but dinner was still on the agenda. We had plans to meet at the Cracker Barrel not far from the Raleigh Durham airport just off I-40.
    After about an hour on the road we found ourselves near the busy intersection of Interstate 85 and 40. We made it through the intersection. Diane and I were chatting about the confusing directions coming from our GPS when this small dark car zoomed from directly behind and came up next to my window. I looked down at the driver. He was leaning over to the passenger side of his car, yelling at me. I had no idea what he was saying. He started waving his right arm around, then both arms, yelling even louder, but with no clarity at all.
    "Diane what does that guy want?"
    "I don't know, but he sure is acting strange." She got up and leaned over my seat.
    Suddenly he speed up. As soon as he was way out in front of me he headed over to the shoulder of the road. I glanced over to my right so I could keep an eye on him as we passed. Then I watched him in the rear view mirror. I figured that was the end of it, but it wasn't. A couple of seconds after we passed him, he took off. He crossed the right lane, coming up on my left again. This time he was practically hanging out of the passenger window yelling like a mad man, arms going like a windmill. I still had no idea what he was doing or trying to tell me.
    "What does he want? Do we have a flat? Are we on fire, I don't get it?" I said.
    "I don't know" Diane replied as she opened my window in an attempt to understand what he was yelling. "I can't understand him at all."
    Joel, one to never miss life's little comparisons made an observation.
    "He would make a good trunk monkey."
    That could have been funny except for the fact this guy was weaving in his lane. I was beginning to think he might swerve over and hit us.
    I found myself edging to the far right of my lane. I hit the zipper. I moved over. This was getting scarier by the moment, then the guy zoomed off in front and moved over to the shoulder again. Something told me he wasn't going to stay there. I was right.
    The third time was not charming. He zoomed up even faster this time, with a new tactic. He hit his horn, adding the noise to his arsenal of gestures. We could see that he was still yelling but we couldn't hear him over his horn. I resisted the urge to push my horn in return.
    "Why is he so mad? Did we cut him off or something?" I yelled.
    "Maybe we threw mud at him and he suffers from road rage" Joel responded.
    I almost believed that was possible, but I figured we lost the last of the mud off the coach fifty miles behind us.
    He was swerving and most likely swearing a lot now. It was getting harder to keep my eyes on the road in front, and keep my eye on him at the same time.
    Diane saw an exit sign.
    "Pull off there" she pointed to the distant off ramp just to the right of an overpass. "Maybe he won't follow us."
    "MAYBE he won't follow us? What if he does?" I asked.
    "Well, we will be safer off the interstate that is for sure."
    I had to agree with that, so I was going to signal a turn, but something told me don't. I decided that I didn't want this person to see my side blinker. He would then know what I was going to do. If we exited at the last moment, hopefully it would leave him no time to get over, follow us, then shoot us all, or whatever it was he wanted to do.
    He made it easier to get away because for the third time he zoomed ahead. He passed the exit. Now was our chance to get away. At the last possible second I moved to the right, punched the gas and headed up the ramp. The light at the top was green so I took a right turn. We headed for a shopping center.
    "Did he follow us?" I asked no one in particular.
    Joel, from his position on the couch, responded first.
    "I think we lost him."
    I parked the coach. I sat there for a moment. Then I opened a console drawer and pulled out my tire gauge.
    "I'm going to check outside."
    I left the coach for a quick walk around. All the basement doors were closed. The awing wasn't open, the antennae was down. My Crossfires showed proper rear tire pressure. The fronts looked normal, but I checked them anyway, just to be sure. They were fine but I wasn't. That diver had really scared me. The reason for his behavior was a mystery that would not be solved, which may have been a good thing. I really didn't care for my family to be part of a headline.
    I went back in the coach, used the bathroom, threw some water on my face. We were back on the interstate again in about ten minutes.
    We didn't talk much for the rest of our trip. I put on a Frank Sinatra CD and tried to calm down. It had been a rough day so far.
    Diane was trying to call Elaine to tell her we were still on our way, but would be arriving a bit late.
    We would arrive later than any of us realized because we missed a turn and ended up at the Airport.
    I was not happy with trying to drive a large vehicle past all the gates with their confusing traffic of taxis, cars, buses, and people with suitcases but we managed it. We got back on the right path to the Cracker Barrel.
    A good coach moment: Having a place to sleep after a good meal at the end of a very rough day.
    Elaine was waiting in the parking lot. She visited our coach for awhile. We retold the story of our stay in the mud, and gave her our account of the mad driver.
    "Well, it seems you have had a rough day today."
    My whole family practices the art of understatement.
    Joel summed the day up best.
    "We are here now, lets eat!"
    We did. We walked in to the restaurant, had a good meal, told some funny stories. Elaine told us about the things going on in her life.
    It was good moment but it was also late. I was exhausted so I told Diane that I was not up to the drive home.
    We already knew that the area had no campgrounds close by so she made a great suggestion.
    "I bet they will let us stay here."
    We asked the manager if we could spend the night. He agreed. So we left, said good bye to Elaine, and went back to the coach. We moved it to the far end of the parking lot. I put out the slides over the curb side. I started the genny so we could unwind with a movie. It was not long after it ended that we were all in bed.
    I hoped I wouldn't have crazy dreams about mud holes and trunk monkeys.
    I was so beat that even the planes flying directly over head couldn't keep me awake.
    I didn't dream at all.
  11. -Gramps-
    One of the things that is on my Motor Coach Bucket List is to travel to as many Major League baseball parks as I can.
    I love the game of baseball. Like motor coaching, baseball has many metaphors for life. I have loved the game much, much longer than I have loved the rving lifestyle.
    I have been to a number of major league games. My first one was a weekday night game in late spring of 1989. It was the first home game of the Cincinnati Reds after the Pete Rose Scandal hit the news. There was another big story about him on the day of the game. Although he was a player as well as the manager of the Reds, he never came out of the team's dugout the whole night.
    The Reds were playing the Mets that night. The highlight of the game for me was a high and hard Darryl Strawberry foul ball that landed a few rows behind me, bounced off an empty seat then careened off the left arm of my seat and landed in a bucket of popcorn belonging to a young lady a few levels below me.
    I still regret not catching that ball that the young lady never saw coming. I know she never knew what hit her by the volume of her scream as the ball knocked the bucket off her lap while scattering popcorn over everyone seated next to her.
    I would have liked to take that ball home to Joel, my four year old son.
    Nine years later, Joel, then thirteen, my oldest daughter Christine, her then husband Brent, Diane and I were sitting just above the left outfield wall at Yankee Stadium. We were munching on hero sandwiches and drinking ginger ale as the Yankees played the White Sox.
    We got a kick out of the Yankee fans heckling left fielder Albert Belle, at that time the highest paid player in baseball.
    The sound of "ALbert...ALbert!" coming from some forty thousand voices at the same time made it pretty obvious that he was not popular in New York.
    We got a bigger kick witnessing then Yankee Darryl Strawberry hit not one, but two, two out-two strike home runs.
    The shouts of "DAR-RYL DAR-RYL!" from the same forty thousand voices made it obvious that he was very popular in New York.
    The Yankees won that night. You got to love the Yankees. You got to love their fans even more. Some may argue, but I believe the Yankees have the best fans in the world.
    Two days earlier we were at a night game in Philadelphia.
    The Phillies were still playing at the old hot and stuffy Veteran's stadium. The Braves were in town and I swear there were more fans rooting for them than for the Phillies. After watching the way Philadelphia played that night, I understood why.
    In 1998 it was hard to love them Phillies.
    In 1997 Joel, Diane and I attended a Baltimore Orioles game and watched Cal Ripken keep his teammates entertained during a rain delay. The Orioles were playing Oakland. Mark McGwire was a member of the A's then and what a batting practice display he put on that day. In just a few weeks he would be traded to the St Louis Cardinals and go on to lead the majors with 58 home runs that year.
    Before the game Joel and I visited the Babe Ruth Museum. That is a place you should not miss when in Baltimore.
    In 1998 I was at an Arizona Diamondbacks home game and watched Randy Johnson, throwing a lot of nasty side arm sliders, strike out fourteen Padres in a row and hit a standup double. It goes without saying that he won that game.
    May 24th 1998 Diane, Joel, Christine, Brent, and I were sitting in the mezzanine section of Shea Stadium watching the New York Mets play the Milwaukee Brewers. At eleven that morning the game was sold out. It was the first Mets sell-out since the last time they were National League East champs ten years earlier. The reason for the sellout was that this was the first home game of the newest Mets player...Mike Piazza. History says that it took some time for Mets fans to warm up to their new catcher. Not so. They loved him from the first moment they saw him on the field just taking questions from news people. The first time he came up to bat, the place went berserk. It was the beginning of a seven year relationship that included two playoffs, one pennant and a World Series against the Yankees. And I was there with my family when it started.
    All these games were great. A couple of them had some real history being made. But none of them were as exciting to me as a game that I was at one hot Saturday in June of 1996.
    It was the game between the Phillies and the Giants. Not the big league ones. This game was a battle between the Phillies and the Giants of the Churchland Little League.
    Joel, my son, was on the Phillies.
    I was the manager of his team.
    I had some experience coaching a team before I took on the job of managing the Phillies. I found out that some experience was better than none but not a whole lot. The part I didn't know about was that managing was a full time job even when you have a full time job. I spent many evenings at practice, putting together my lineup, calling parents to remind them of the Saturday game and where it would be and at what time and most importantly; making sure of who would be there. All this was in addition to giving my son individual Dad time. I threw a lot of batting practice pitches to him in the big grassy church lot next to our house. I also caught a lot of pitches from him in our back yard.
    I tried to be a pretty laid back coach. Winning was not the most important thing to me. Helping my players do their best and make their best better was my goal. I figured if I did that then we would win, hopefully a lot, of games as a result.
    I had four rules for my players.
    Be on time for practices and games.
    Trust the coach.
    When behind don't give up.
    When ahead don't let up.
    That was it.
    I thought that with those rules that all involved would have fun.
    I had to pick up players, drive them to practices and to the games. This was the part of managing that got to me the most. Chris, my catcher, lived with his single mom. She worked very long hours and so it fell upon me to drive to his home, pick him up, take him to practice, and bring him back to our house for dinner. If I didn't do that he would end up at home, alone, eating Fruit Loops or something just as healthy.
    Chris was twelve years old, tall for his age, with bright blond hair, blue eyes, and a handsome face that turned red quick from exposure to the sun. He had a fast swing and a faster temper to go with it.
    Chris resented being on the Phillies. He really didn't like being "down here with the little squirts" to use his words. He gave the impression that the only reason that he was playing was because his mother wanted him to. I didn't believe that to be the only reason. I could tell that he loved the game, although he felt he was out of the league he should have been in.
    You see, Churchland Little League was divided into three divisions; T-Ball, Minor League, which was comprised of teams made up of mostly eight to ten year olds, and the major league, which had ten to twelve year old players. The idea was that the Major League players were ones with a bit more skill. From the major league teams came all our All Stars. The All Stars would make up the dream team that would play in the district tournaments and then if successful go on to the Little League World Series.
    That is the way it was supposed to work, but in reality the coaches sons, and players that coaches really liked, or friends of the coaches sons, or sons of the coaches friends, you get the picture, ended up in the majors and on the All Star teams no matter how good they were or were not. Every now and then an "exceptional" minor league player could get called up to one of major league teams if a spot became available.
    Chris was a good player, better than most, but he had no one to go to bat for him. He had no father to be seen. His mother moved around a lot so even though he had played some organized baseball before, no one in Churchland knew him, so he was never considered for the majors, and being that this was his last year of eligibility to play he was unlikely to be called up.
    As I said, Chris was a good player. He had no fear of the ball at all. Most of my players would back out of the box as soon as the pitcher released the ball. They rarely swung at a pitch. Right handed Chris crowded the plate. His size scared the opposing players, especially the pitcher. Chris gave a look that dared any pitcher to throw it anywhere near the plate. If they did he would quickly smash the ball. He would smash it long and high over the third base side into the outfield. Unfortunately it was the outfield of the T-ball field which made that screaming hit a foul ball.
    The coaches of the T-ball teams didn't care for unseen round white orbs raining down on their dirt kicking outfielders. More than once they told me to do something about it. I asked one coach if he would like me to shout "Fore!" when Chris comes up to bat. He called me a wise guy.
    I did want to do something about it believe me.
    Over dinner I would try to coach his attitude, tell him to not crowd the plate. He had a long reach. Give the pitcher some room and he would get a good pitch to hit.
    I moved him back in the box and told him to wait before swinging and to go for the outside pitch.
    When Chris hit one into fair territory, it was usually a line drive that went like it was shot out of a cannon right at third base or to the shortstop position sometimes resulting in an injury to the unfortunate kid who tried to knock it down and extra bases for Chris.
    Soon the pitchers for the other teams, on coach's orders, all started pitching away from him. This frustrated Chris even more and he started swinging at junk, hitting more fouls and finding himself in many 0 and 2 counts. I told him to take more first pitches. He would try, and he could get the count to 3 and 2, but a sharp pitcher would take advantage of him and he would end up with a backwards K next to his name on the score sheet.
    After hitting two fouls, looking at three balls, looking at a third strike, he would turn even redder in the face, and if he could have he would have broken his aluminum bat in half.
    He wanted more than to just hit the ball. He wanted that big major league home run. He wanted to prove that he should be up there with the big boys.
    He wasn't the only one.
    Joel was my closer and played second base and shortstop when needed. He batted right handed in the forth position so he was my clean up man in more ways than one. He was patient. Joel would drive the other pitchers crazy because he instinctively sat back in the box and waited. He would take pitches that he knew were balls and foul off the pitches that he knew were borderline. Chris was doing great to get six pitches. Joel would get eight, eleven, or more and still walk, but most of the time it only took one to get on base.
    If the ball was close to the plate, Joel was swinging for first base. He would take the knob to the ball and punch it where the infield defense was the weakest and then use his speed to beat it out to first. He was so fast that the infielder would rush, juggle the ball or make a bad throw, and Joel would usually end up at second, if not third.
    Soon pitchers tried to throw around him as well. But it didn't matter, Joel walked when he wanted to and if the pitch was reachable he used his great bat speed to take it to the opposite field. If it was an inside pitch, he tucked his hips in, leaned back and then pulled it to left.
    They could not keep him off the base paths when he got on. His attitude was two bases are always better than one.
    When it came to pitching, Joel was one of the most accurate pitchers on the mound, major or minor. He threw strikes. Worse yet for the batters he faced, he threw inside strikes. The problem was, that chased the batters out of the box and young umpires would lose their reference and call a ball. This bugged Joel. He knew the umpires up in the majors would not do this to him, but he learned to adjust. He would throw low to the back corner of the plate and get the batters to chase and if they were not swingers, just throw hard and fast right down the middle.
    Most of the time Chris was his catcher and he knew how to catch a pitch and make it look pretty.
    Both of those boys could have played with the big kids.
    We won a lot of games as the season progressed. Three games we lost by one run. The third game of the season was our first loss. We got killed thirteen to nothing. For some reason, I think it was a muddy field, we had to play on the T-ball field with a bad pitcher's mound. Unlike the other team (The First Place Mets) we could not adjust.
    My team was upset with that loss. I was upset because they gave up on me three innings in. I did not scold them. Instead I had them all over to my house on practice night for some Nintendo Home Run Derby. My plan was to get some bats moving that usually stayed still.
    It worked. The kids had a great time. They competed against each other. Boys who had poor timing found out that they could swing and hit a virtual ball. I told them that if they could hit what the computer tossed at them, they could hit what a pitcher threw. They just needed to decide to do it. I also reminded them of rules three and four. To make it easier to remember, those rules would now be rule one and two.
    Before each game I would give my little pep talk about teamwork and strategy and then ask my two questions.
    "What's rule number one?!"
    "DON'T GIVE UP!"
    "What's rule number two?"
    "DON'T LET UP!"
    We won our next six games.
    Many years later, after one of the other coaches of the Mets became a next door neighbor, I found out that the Phillies had a reputation for being relentless. I was told that other coaches thought we were mean because we pounded the other team. We never let up on them. We didn't. I told my boys that life is like baseball or vice versa, play fair but play hard. Don't cheat to win but make the other guy beat you, and never surrender. When you lose, and you most likely will, you still have no reason to feel bad if you did your very best. My team took all that to heart and always played like we were one run ahead or one behind.
    By game fourteen out of sixteen, we were 11 and 3.
    Game fifteen was the Phillies against the Giants.
    I didn't know it then, but this would be Chris's last game. His mother would move again before the month was out.
    Chris still wanted that big home run.
    The rules of Churchland Little League state that all players who show up for the game are in the batting line up for the whole game. Substitutions in the field are unlimited and pitchers can throw for three consecutive innings only, but they can play other positions.
    For this game I had ten players out of thirteen show up. A couple of them, including TJ who normally batted first, arrived late so I shifted my line up one place. Joel was batting in the third slot and Chris in forth. TJ was in the tenth position. I hated not having him at the top of the order during our first at bat. He didn't hit a lot but he didn't flinch either, so he tended to get a lot of walks. Matt, leadoff and my starting pitcher, and CJ were both good hitters. Together they gave Joel a really good chance to hit in some runs.
    The day of the game we were the visitors.
    I can see it in my mind, not like it was yesterday, but like it is right now.
    I watch my players arrive. When the Ump gets there I give him my lineup and a copy to the Giants' coach.
    We do some warm up exercises. Since we are visitors we hit the field for some quick infield practice first.
    After we are done, the Giants take the field for some quick drills and then the starters take their positions.
    It is time to play ball. My summer boys are up first.
    Matt leads off with a first pitch double to center field which he tries to stretch into a triple and gets thrown out. CJ strikes out on a 1 and 2 count. Joel comes up to bat with nobody on and two outs.
    This is not the way I want to start out against the Giants.
    Pitch comes in and Joel takes it to the far right field and runs for first like his life depends on it. He doesn't stop until he is standing on third. His pants are still clean.
    Now it is Chris's at bat. I don't know what to expect. I know that it could get ugly. Joel, standing on third, had better keep his eyes open and not get hit by a rocket.
    Chris takes a vicious swing at the first pitch and misses so hard he spins like a top. The pitcher grins at him. Chris turns a bit redder. Next pitch and Chris knocks an ankle breaker back to the mound. It bounces off the rubber and flies past second as the pitcher jumps. Chris makes it to first, Joel scores.
    Little Jeffery comes up to the plate and manages to take it to a full count before he goes down looking.
    Bottom of the first Phillies 1 Giants 0
    The Giants are a pretty fair team so I am going to play my normal game but take nothing for granted. Before Matt heads to the mound, I tell him and Chris to be smart, no fancy curve balls, just play catch.
    The Giants leadoff batter and Matt get into a classic battle of hitter and pitcher. It goes to a full count with a bunch of foul balls. Matt walks him.
    Okay, he will shake that off. I hope.
    The next two batters both hit to my second baseman. CJ makes two great throws to first.
    Matt now has two outs and starts to get a bit anxious for the third so he throws one in the dirt that Chris can't smother. The runner who was on third makes it home.
    The batter goes down looking with a full count.
    Man, my players sure know how to make a coach anxious.
    Top of the Second, score tied 1 to 1
    Shawn leads off for us. He does not like to stay in the batters box. I cured him by laying bats on the ground behind his heels. If he steps backwards he steps on the bats and takes a fall. I know this seems like a mean technique to cure bat fright but it works. This day he stays right there, never takes a swing but ends up on first.
    Jonathan, Zac, and WC are my next three batters. All three of them strike out. Jonathan and WC go down looking at the third strike. The Giants's pitcher throws nine strikes and three balls. Three of those 12 pitches end up at the backstop allowing Shawn to work his way from first to home.
    Bottom of the second Phillies 2, Giants 1
    Matt walks the lead off batter after a 3-1 count. I am hoping that he will settle down a bit. Chris jogs out to the mound to talk to him.
    I don't know what he said but it works.
    Matt strikes out the next batter, and then takes the second one to a full count before getting him too. The third batter goes down with a backwards K on four pitches.
    Top of the Third we are ahead 2 to 1.
    TJ, last in the lineup, leads off with big stand-up double on a 1 and 0 pitch.
    Now we are back at the top of our batting order.
    Matt takes a ball and then puts a hard grounder back to the mound. He gets thrown out on a not so close play at first but advances the runner.
    CJ is up. He is a smart hitter and almost always takes the first pitch. He does just that this time as well. It is a ball. He smacks the next one to third base, it will be a long throw to first and he beats it out. It is a bad throw that scoots out to right field, CJ pushes it all the way to third while TJ makes it home.
    All my parents are screaming now. Things are getting hot.
    Joel is up, and everyone is yelling at him to bring CJ home. Joel works it to two balls and two strikes and goes down swinging hard.
    Two outs, with a man on third.
    Chris is up and the pitcher just stands there looking. Chris takes a couple of hard practice swings.
    Chris gets five pitches. Two of them are foul balls, one of which takes off behind our dugout, into the woods, never to be seen again. The other one scares the poop out of the T-ball parents sitting in the bleachers on the third base side of the T-ball field. They have their backs to our field and never see what drops from the sky. He takes two balls that are so outside even he doesn't swing at them. The third one that he doesn't swing at is a strike, in the opinion of the umpire anyway, (who, in my opinion must be drunk or blind).
    Chris is really red now. I tell the boys to hit the field.
    Bottom of the Third
    Phillies 3, Giants 1
    Again Matt walks the first batter. This is getting monotonous.
    I once asked my pitchers and players this:
    "What is the most important first pitch in baseball?"
    I got all kinds of answers.
    "Curve."
    "No-fastball, its gotta be a fastball!"
    "Breaking Ball."
    I told them it is a strike. The answer should be obvious. Pitchers need to throw first pitch strikes. I don't care if the batter looks at it, swings and misses it, or fouls it off. I just want the first pitch to be a strike. A pitcher still has the mental advantage, even with a three two count, if the first pitch is a strike.
    Matt has the advantage with the second batter. He throws two strikes and then three balls but the sixth pitch freezes the batter.
    One out, two to go, play is at second.
    The third batter is the same sad story with one different player, another walk. Now the Giants have runners on first and second.
    Hot and Cold Matt, you never know which one is throwing next. The hot one hurls the next five pitches. He gets another one looking.
    Two down, one to go and we are back at the top of the Giants order.
    After the next three pitches, I know Matt is trying to kill me. They are all balls. The batter has the brains to take the next pitch. Matt fires it down the middle for strike one. Next pitch is off the corner on the outside. Chris never moves his glove. The Ump calls it a ball. It looks just like the last strike he called on Chris. As the batter is trotting to first and the bases load, I am reminding myself that it is against the rules to kill an umpire.
    Matt throws a high ball to the next batter, and Chris stands to get it. He tosses it back to the mound while my parents and players are yelling encouraging things to Matt. I could use a few good words myself about now.
    Matt throws a low outside pitch. The batter golfs it back to the mound and it makes this high bounce straight up off that darn rubber. Matt can't field it. Runner is very safe.
    The Third Base runner scores and we still have bases loaded.
    "Play is at any base!" Joel, at short, yells to the rest of the infield.
    My outfielders are asleep, because nothing has gone out there yet.
    Matt fires off another pitch, inside, at the knees of the batter. He hits it right back to Matt who gets it on one bounce and throws to first.
    Thank God, inning over. Joel needs to start warming up.
    Top of the Forth
    Phillies 3, Giants 2
    Little Jeffrey is up again. I can count on one hand the number of times Jeffery has been on base. He plays outfield and I am lucky if he is looking at home plate when the batter hits the ball.
    Today, however, he seems to be getting into it a bit more. I just wish he would swing the darn bat.
    He hits the first pitch. It spins high up on the first base side and smacks the bleachers right next to his dad...You would have thought it was a home run. Every one rooting for the Phillies starts yelling like they have lost their minds.
    I think the noise must have unnerved the pitcher because he throws four straight balls. Jeffery struts to first base like he owns the world.
    Shawn is next. He takes the pitcher to a full count then goes down looking.
    Jonathan stands by the plate and glares at the pitcher while he takes three balls, two strikes (in some kind of order) and then stares at the last pitch, a pretty strike.
    Two down. Man the bottom of my order doesn't help me very often. Zac is my last hope.
    Sometimes things are hopeless. Five pitches later, Diane my scorekeeper draws a backwards K next to Zac.
    Three down without trying to foul off the last strike, come on, give me a break guys!
    Bottom of the Forth
    Phillies 3, Giants 2
    Joel is nice and warmed up. I watch the players as they move out on the field, grinning as they run. They believe in Joel. He rarely walks a batter. He makes them work for it. I hear the Parents saying "We got em now."
    Maybe, but I don't want to let up. Joel knows that and he reminds his team not to let up as they run past him. "Good boy," I think to myself.
    Joel wastes no time. He hurls at the Giants number 4 hitter, three inside fastballs waist high. He freezes the guy in his cleats. His bat never moves.
    The Second batter takes a swing at all three pitches but gets nothing but air.
    Two down, one to go.
    The next batter up catches everyone by surprise. He bunts to the first base side (it could have been an accident) on the very first pitch. WC, now catching, can move pretty fast when he wants to, scoops it up and throws it to the stretched out TJ at first, just in the nick of time.
    The forth inning is over, pretty darn quick if you ask me.
    Top of the fifth and my summer boys are up again. I look though the dugout fence at their hot and sweaty faces. I tell these great kids of mine that Joel needs some protection. Get him some runs.
    Chris yells "What's rule number 2?!!!"
    "Don't let up! Don't let up!"
    WC leads off.
    WC is a short stocky kid who doesn't like batting in the bottom of the order. Most of the time I put him in the ninth spot. He can hit and he can get a walk. The only bad thing is that he has a habit of throwing his bat. The first time the umps will issue a warning, the second time they will call him out. WC throws his bat at least once a game but if he gets a hit and controls himself he can get us back to the top of our order and when that happens WC will usually score a run. Today WC is not batting at the bottom but we still need him to do his magic.
    WC likes to swing his bat, so he fouls a few pitches and makes the pitcher work until the count is three and two. On the next pitch he sends a blooper over the third baseman's head, runs three steps, drops his bat and makes it to first base. It is obvious that he likes the sound of his team's cheers.
    TJ comes up. TJ gets more walks than anyone on the team. He knows that it his job to get on base so he is an extremely patient batter.
    He forces the pitcher to go to another full count but comes out on the losing end this time.
    Ian, who came to the game during previous inning is up now. Ian is my youngest player and is scared stiff of the ball. If he stays in the batter's box and gives the pitcher any kind of challenge we will be doing good. He manages to get a piece of the second pitch. It is the first time he puts the bat on the ball during a game. I am proud of him even when he misses the next two.
    Two outs with one on, but we make it back to the top of the lineup.
    As Matt steps out of our dugout I stop him and call Joel over.
    "What do you guys think of the pitcher?" I ask.
    "He's throwing a lot of pitches, most of them balls. He looks nervous or something," is Joel's response. Matt nods in agreement.
    "We will try to make him work a little harder." I look over at Matt. "Play with his head a bit, step out between pitches, fix your gloves, or adjust your helmet, make him think about his next pitch longer than he wants to. Got that?"
    "Okay Coach."
    Matt walks over to the plate just as my friend the ump impatiently yells "Batter Up!"
    Maybe Matt didn't get it, I don't know. He hits the first pitch for a single. Okay, I'll take it anyway I can get it.
    CJ is up next. He fouls the first pitch and then takes the next two. The count is 1 and 2 when the next pitch comes straight at him. I know he's going to duck but he turns around and takes it right in the middle of his back. He drops his bat, bends his back one direction and then the other, groaning and moaning. The ump asks CJ if he his okay. CJ says he can still play. He hobbles to first. I swear he gave me a sideways grin as he passes me.
    That did it. We now have the bases loaded with two outs. Joel is now in the box. He has that look in his eye. He wants more than just a base hit, he wants extra bases, as many as he can get. I know what he wants. He wants the biggest home run you can get. Joel wants a Grand Slam.
    Sometimes you almost get what you want.
    The Giants pitcher was just too nervous. His first pitch is in the dirt, the catcher scrambles and WC steals home while Matt and CJ advance a base.
    We have a two run lead with one inning to go, plus there is a time limit, but at this point that is way off yet.
    The Giants coach calls his pitcher over to the third base path.
    I can guess what he is saying. "It's okay; this is still anybody's game. Just go out there and throws strikes."
    Yep, that's what I would have said with all the confidence that I could muster, while hoping that it works.
    It does for awhile, sort of.
    Joel looks at two close balls then fouls off two pitches in a row and then looks at one more ball. It's a full count. He then hits the next pitch hard down the third base side where at the last second it curves foul.
    I think to myself that the pitcher better not throw one there again. He does.
    Joel kicks and slams it hard. It's a rope over the third baseman's head and keeps going until it rolls into the farthest point in left field that it can go. Joel does not look where that ball lands. From the moment he makes contact his feet start to move toward first. He glances at the first base coach who yells at him to keep going. Joel flies around second, all the time watching TJ's father who is coaching third base. His arm is spinning like a windmill and Joel gets the message.
    All of us are yelling at him.
    "Run Joel, Run!"
    He rounds third into foul territory and keeps on pumping for home. I see the throw being relayed from the outfield and it is going to be close. Joel looks at me for the slide sign. I give it to him, better safe than sorry.
    He slides across the plate with an inside the park homerun, beating the throw by, well, quite a bit. His teammates are yelling at the top of their voices. It is quite a moment.
    The score is now Phillies 7, Giants 2
    "Don't let up!"
    "Don't let up!"
    I did not remind them of rule number two. Chris or someone started that cheer themselves. I don't stop them. They know it is still anybody's game to win.
    I look over at the Giants dugout and almost feel sorry for the coach. The pitcher looks dejected but not defeated. That is good, after all the game ain't over till it's over.
    I herd all the guys back to the dugout as Chris heads to the batter's box. Chris is really pumped up. I can see it in his face. The first pitch comes in low and outside.
    Ball one.
    The pitcher winds up, lets go and the ball follows the same path.
    Ball two.
    Chris steps out of the box, glares at the mound, takes a swing and steps back to the plate.
    The pitcher throws a high breaking ball. It looks like a softball pitch.
    Ball Three.
    Chris gets red in the face and yells.
    "Come on, give me something to hit!"
    I have to do something and do it fast.
    "Time, Blue!"
    The ump calls time and I motion for Chris to come over.
    I lean in close to him.
    "I want you to show a bunt."
    "I don't want to bunt." He responds.
    "I want you to show a bunt and if the pitcher puts it down the middle pull back and kill it. Can you do that?"
    "Fake a bunt? I don't know coach."
    "Hey, batter we don't have all day."
    I push Chris back towards the plate...the ump wants to go home.
    Chris steps back in the batter's box. The throw is a fastball outside. Chris drops his bat and heads for first.
    "Hey batter, that was a strike."
    Slowly Chris turns and looks at the Ump like he is out of his mind. The pitcher starts laughing at him. Chris's face becomes as red as a tomato.
    He goes back to the plate. He takes his stance. Then something clicks. He squares off for a bunt. He shows this great big and very ugly wiggy-waggy bunt. The pitcher looks at Chris like he has gone crazy and fires a fast one right down the fat part of the plate.
    I know what is coming next because I can feel it in the air. The hair on my arms stands up as Chris gets this unmistakable look on his face. It is the look of complete victory. He pulls back and smokes the ball harder than he has ever hit one in his life.
    PING!!!
    That ball heads for dead center field, climbing the whole time. Every eye, both on our field, the T-ball field and the major league field, where the sound of the bat hitting the leather can be heard, is following the path of the ball. They watch it as it bounces off a car in the parking lot way beyond our centerfield fence.
    Chris makes his victory lap around the diamond. My team is going crazy. They meet Chris at home plate, slapping his back.
    Chris finally has his Major League Home run.
    Phillies 8, Giants 2
    But it ain't over till it's over.
  12. -Gramps-

    40 Years

    By -Gramps-,

    Diane and I have discovered that living in a motor coach simplifies our life. We don't find the small space to be confining. Quite the opposite, it is liberating. Our motor coach frees us from thinking about so many things. She and I normally operate in two different worlds. Diane's world concerns the house, the two men, the cat and the dog that live in it with her. My world revolves around my business, my computers, and my online friends. Most of the time we are in two different parts of the house or we are in my office sitting at two different computers. We share the same room when watching TV, but there is not much conversation and it isn't unusual for us both to fall asleep while NCIS or Castle or some other program rumbles on in the background.
    When we travel in the coach we rediscover each other. We are not on the same couch but we are just feet away from each other looking out the same big window. Teddy is sometimes on Diane's lap watching the world fly by with us. We have hours to just "sit and talk." We do plenty of that. We may review the things that have happened in our lives, we talk about our past, our memories and there are lots of those, or we talk about our future and how uncertain it is. We talk about God, our kids, our extended families.
    When you boil it all down, the coach helps us to remember just how much we love each other and how long we have been together, and we have been together for a long, long time...
  13. -Gramps-

    A Year Ago

    By -Gramps-,

    I have been meaning to write the second part (the better part) of our trip to Melbourne, Florida to see our daughter and Gavin, our new grandson. However, my writing has been delayed by a web site move, a pinched nerve in my neck (I can't feel two of my fingers on my left hand) and other related work stuff. Also it is an anniversary, a sad anniversary which has turned my thoughts towards another grandson and just how precious a life can be, even if it is a short one.
    I wrote this last year. I don't think I can or need to add to what I said.
    I have enjoyed being part of the motor home community. It means a lot to me. More than I can possible say. At this moment I am at Deer Creek Motorcoach Resort in Galax. It has been my refuge for the last few days. I am surrounded by my friends and I have needed them and they have been here for me. Yesterday I lost one of my grandsons. I never got the chance to meet him. Diane had to fly down to Florida to be with our daughter and her husband after we learned that her unborn baby boy who was going to be with us in just a few weeks was not going to be with us for long. I couldn't go with her and so I have been leaning on the community here and hugging the dog. I guess it has been Teddy's job to wash away my tears...and there has been a lot of them.
    As usual when I and my family are going thru a tough and emotional time I pray and I write........
    Daniel, my dear grandson:
    You were with us for such a short time today and then you were gone. Your life was a sunset, here for a moment and then no more. Now your Mother, Father and Grandparents are left with memories of what we hoped you would bring to our lives. We looked forward to hearing you laugh, seeing you smile, holding you in our arms.
    You are loved by your Mom and Dad and your brother and the rest of your family. I hope you know that.
    The Bible tells us that you are wonderfully made, designed by God Himself. The book of Psalms says that God knew you before he placed you in your mother's womb. You must be something really special for God to change His mind and take you back to be with Him. I know you are special. You were so small and only hours old when you had to leave us. But I promise you, you have already done what only a child of loving parents can do. You have brought your Mom and Dad closer together. You have made them love your big brother all the more. You have made us all draw closer to God.
    There is a time to be born, a time to die, a time to laugh and a time to be sad and a time to morn. Only God knows why the time between those things is short or long.
    Daniel don't be sad for us, don't morn for us, we will survive.
    Daniel, I want you to laugh!
    I want you to shout for joy because you are with your Heavenly Father!
    There is one more thing I want you to do. When Jesus comes to your room, and I know you have one, because the Bible says so, and he offers you His hand to hold and says, "Let's take a walk," go with Him.
    When He shows you all the wonderful Heavenly things He has made including the planets and the stars, remember that all of us, your Mom and Dad, your brother, and your grandparents will be looking at them too. Daniel, we will be thinking of you and looking forward to the day that we can take that walk together.
    With all my love,
    Your Grandfather.
    In Memory of Daniel Thomas Wheeler
    Born 5/4/2011 Died 5/4/2011
    .
  14. -Gramps-

    Skipping Thanksgiving

    By -Gramps-,

    Skipping Thanksgiving. (A running blog entry)
    Wednesday:
    Diane and myself are skipping the traditional Thanksgiving this year. We are presently sitting in site 41 at the Anvil Campground in Williamsburg, Virginia. Skipping the traditional turkey dinner with all the trimmings, along with all the work that involves, didn't sit too well with some family members. I say too bad!
    Diane and I need some time to ourselves. Time with less stress, less responsibility. We need a time to heal from the loss of our dog. We need some couple time. So the plan is to hit the shopping outlets on the morning of Black Friday, then to come back to the coach, and take a break. Friday night we have reservations at The Trellis, one of the best restaurants in town if not the best. Saturday morning we might explore the Colonial area some more or Yorktown or somewhere.
    Around noon on Saturday we are going to Richmond to visit a copper colored Cocker Spaniel named Beasley. He is presently in the care of a dog rescue group. Beasley, according to what we have been told, is three years old, in good health, has a great personality and he needs a home.
    Thursday:
    We arrived at the Anvil CG around one o'clock on Thanksgiving day. It was an uneventful morning getting the rig packed up. We didn't need to load up much food or clothes but we did pack some doggie stuff. That stuff included treats, a Kong, a collar and leash and some dog food. All this is a just in case thing. The most excitement was over some lost cash, that Diane put someplace safe, so safe she couldn't find it. After some intensive searching it was discovered in a file cabinet drawer.
    Once our mad money was stored away and the car hooked up we hit I-64 for Williamsburg. Forty minutes later we were in the campground looking at a white board in front of the office door. The white board had a list of Thanksgiving day arrivals and site numbers. Site 41 was the same site we were assigned to the last time we were here.
    It did not take long to make camp and soon after we found ourselves walking on Dog Street in Colonial Williamsburg. It is not really Dog Street, but Duke of Gloucester Street. Dog is the name the locals give it and Diane and I consider ourselves locals. The street was quite crowded with tourists, most of them toting cameras and many walking dogs. We could not help but notice that. We talked to a mother and daughter walking a couple of Springer Spaniels and visited a couple walking a pair of PBGVs.
    We bought a couple of ten dollar large souvenir mugs of hot cider (which come with free refills ) and I played Quoints, a game related to horseshoes, with one of the park interpreters, who played the character of Mr. Randolph ESQ., attorney at law.
    We were back in the coach around five and had Chinese food followed by a viewing of Eat, Love, Pray or is it Eat, Pray, Love? We also watched The Crossing, a great movie about the Battle of Trenton, that I paid too much for at the Visitor Center gift store. Oh well.
    Friday:
    Diane and I woke up early this morning with plans to drive a short distance to the Williamsburg Premium Outlets. Unfortunately I discovered that the hot water heater had not been turned on so I could not give my face a quick shave. I flipped on both the 12 volt and the 120 volt switches in order to do a quick warmup. The hot water heater would not ignite its gas burner. I spent the next half hour troubleshooting that problem without success.
    So off to the Outlets we went. The hot water heater problem would have to wait. The Outlets were not that crowded when we arrived at nine thirty in the morning but sixty minutes later the whole scene changed. The placed became a mad house. Some stores had lines of people waiting to get in. Well the Coach store did anyway. The crowds, I didn't mind them, but the lines I avoided including the ones where the final place in line was in front of a cash register. Diane stood in a couple of those lines but not me. We purchased a few gifts for ourselves, and I mean that literally, including a pair of Sketcher Shape Ups for each of us. I put mine on in the store and wore them the rest of the time we were shopping. Those things really will make your rear end and legs sore. We visited most of the stores and found a bunch of really good bargains but bought none of them; however I may go back and buy a one hundred and thirty dollar Tommy Bahama shirt for forty bucks. But maybe not...I am feeling kinda cheap this year.
    We walked around the place until dead tired, then back to the coach where I found a loose connection in the hot water heater compartment. Problem solved, we will now have hot water for showers before dinner.
    Dinner at the Trellis was really good. Diane had half a grilled free range chicken. I had crayfish fritters and Idaho Rainbow trout and hot cider spiked with really good Bourbon. We ate a lot. Afterwards we made another walk down Dog street and visited a few shops. I didn't buy a thing. After our walk we made a visit to the local Wal-Mart with its Red Box to return Eat, Pray, Love. The titile of the movie seemed very appropriate for this little venture.
    Richmond tomorrow. We shall see what happens. We could end up with a new four legged coach companion.
    Stay tuned, so to speak.
    Saturday:
    Diane and I woke with the dawn. Actually I woke much earlier than that. I tend to wake every hour on the hour. I don't need an alarm clock anymore. I have not used one for years. After Diane had her morning coffee, she made a frittata with Portobello mushrooms, onions and green peppers. I sprinkled some grated cheddar cheese on mine. After breakfast we got dressed and loaded up the car with our just in case doggy supplies, which included a blanket, water bowl, treats and a leash. Then we headed over to the Yankee Candle Outlet.
    The Yankee Candle outlet is a great place. It is not only a place to get really good bargains but it is just a lot of fun. We watched kids making hand candles. A hand candle is a wax model of a human hand, to be precise the hand of the person making the candle. With the help of a Yankee Candle employee, the hand is dipped into a number of containers holding warm paraffin each in a different color. After all colors are selected the form is removed from the hand somehow.....I didn't get a chance to see that part of the process. I did see a finished product and it is quite interesting. The Outlet is quite large and has one section dedicated to toys, another to clothes and one just for Christmas Villages. We both enjoyed roaming around the place a lot.
    After leaving Yankee Candle we visited the Orvis Sporting Goods outlet. I bought a shirt there that was marked down from ninety eight bucks to nineteen dollars with an extra thirty percent off at the register. Diane bought two tops that were over seventy bucks each originally. Our total bill was just over fifty dollars including the tax. I want to go back tomorrow and buy a dog bed and another shirt.
    Yes, we need a new dog bed for our new pupster. As I write this he is asleep on the coach couch. He has had quite a day and he is "dog tired".
    It is a one hour drive from Williamsburg to Richmond. We had arranged to meet Becky, who runs Angel Dog Rescue and Transport otherwise known as ADRATI.com sometime between one and two pm at her house in Richmond. We had to skip lunch in order to get there on time, but neither of us cared.
    We called Becky and let her know that we would be arriving just before one thirty. We arrived at the said time and parked in a school parking lot just past her house. As we walked up the street to meet her, we saw Beasley zipping around at the end of his flexible leash. It was obvious that he is a high energy dog. That turned out to be more than the case. Beasley loves to walk and when given the opportunity loves to run. He is extremely social and loves people, other dogs, cats and children.
    Once Becky filled us in on Beasley's history, and we watched him run around the back yard, we both had no hesitation about taking him back to the coach. We are now in the first day of a one week trial. At the end of that if all is well, he will stay with us. Day number one has gone very well. He rode in the car well, and loved his walk down Dog Street. Many people, once they saw his cheerful face, long blond legs, and curly floppy ears, came over to take his picture and ask if they could pet him. One lady in a wheel chair just fell for him and loved it when Beasley gave her a big sloppy kiss. Diane had always wished that Nickolas had the disposition to be a therapy dog. But he was just to shy around strangers. Beasley, however, is not shy at all. He might just be able to fulfill Diane's wish.
    It will take a bit of time for us to get to know Beasley (his full name is Mister Beasley) and I am sure that his transition to a new home will have a few bumps, but a few is all we expect. He appears to be a dog with a lot of confidence in people. His first owners may have given up on him but it is obvious that the people who have looked after him since have given him good care.
    We are very thankful to have this opportunity.
    Tomorrow we head home. We shall see how Beasley travels in the coach.
    I think he will do just fine.

    Diane and Mr. Beasley (His name will be changed but that is another story!)
  15. -Gramps-

    "Cruising" Day Five

    By -Gramps-,

    Part V Tuesday and Labadee is over there.
    Another morning of delight began, another morning with no alarm clocks, no Katie Couric, no disturbing pager calls. Today is going to be a great day; a day of nothing to do and happy to do it. I awoke slowly, very slowly, and took a look out the open balcony door. I could see the village of Labadee.
    The resort area was on the other side of the ship.
    I slipped on my robe and stepped out on the balcony. It was already very hot. I looked down at the blue-green water and immediately noticed large jellyfish swimming by the dozens, ghostly white beach umbrellas opening and closing. I was seeing these creatures from deck 10, they had to be really huge, not something that I wanted to meet at eye level. This was not swimming with the sting rays. The bay’s salt content must be down due to a lot of rain water pouring into the bay from the mountains. We could thank Hurricane Kyle for providing optimum conditions for these unpleasant creatures. However, the heat and the jellyfish were not going to be a problem for us, Diane and I had no plans to leave the ship. Unless you were kayaking (we did that the year before) or wave running (book them before the cruise) Labadee was a day of lying by the sea. Reclining around the Solarium pool with a good book and a good woman seemed a much better plan to me.
    I stepped back in, leaned down on the bed and ran my hand slowly down Diane’s bare back. After thirty years the touch of her skin still causes my fingers to tingle. She rolled over and smiled.
    We were ready for breakfast, a brisk walk and then lounging around the pool with a great selection of chairs. Diane put on her swimsuit and cover-up; I put on my Speedos, (Remember? They are big red shorts) a Del Sol T-shirt and sneakers. We retrieved our sunglasses from the swans. We ran the stairs up one deck and aft to the Windjammer. No line, this IS a great day. We sat there eating our eggs, smoked salmon, melon, and sausage as the wave runners zipped around the ship sounding like a herd of wet weed whackers.
    They did look like fun. Off in the distance, I could see the parasail and the blue, green and orange kayaks. This was a most pleasant sight. We took our time sipping our water and nibbling on a second helping of cantaloupe.
    Off to deck 4, of course, for our morning constitutional. We had the urge to put on some speed this morning. I tended to get ahead of Diane so I would circle the helipad until she caught up. The section of deck around the dining room was closed for cleaning so we had to detour through the auto sliding doors past La Scala. If I hit the sensor just right and made a circle, we could slip through without breaking our pace. It looked weird but it worked. And the icy blast of air felt great.
    We were flying, around the deck, up the stairs, down the stairs, through the doors, around the port side, and…what is that awful smell?
    “Diane do you smell that or is it just me?”
    “It is you” she replied. I sat myself up for that corn toss. But there was a bad smell coming from a large blowing vent on the port side. I am guessing that it was the exhaust port for the garbage incinerator. We never noticed the smell at any other time. The source is still a mystery.
    We finished our walk; we worked up a good sweat which should make the cool pool feel great. We headed topside with a stop to pick up towels, (the note said to return them or be charged twenty dollars, this prevents people from leaving them on the chairs I betcha) and we grabbed sun screen, and books. The Solarium had about five people there when we arrived. The hardest decision of the daytime now faced us. Where do we sit? There? No. Over there? No. Here? Okay. Weary from decision making, we stripped to our swimsuits and I started to sit down when Diane said:
    “I am going to the spa at the party pool, this one is closed.”
    Get in hot water? Okay. We walked to the main pool area and entered a spa. We had it to ourselves just long enough for me to figure out the controls and get the jets moving when another couple entered the pool. We chatted with them and found out the lady could not tolerate a lot of sun, and they also noticed the jellyfish. They were enjoying the cruise; she had been in The Spa the day before and received the seaweed wrap, which she found to be wonderful, and afterwards bought 600 dollars worth of stuff. I could tell by the look on her husband’s face that he did not find that so wonderful.
    We sat in the soup for about fifteen minutes and then went back to the Solarium pool. Without hesitation, I dove in. The water felt great, we splashed each other for awhile and then hit the chairs and did nothing until lunch time. Well, not exactly nothing. I did a lot of thinking. I reflected on the last year, all the emotional, mental, and physical pain that Diane and I had to share. The main reason for this Cruise was to have healing moments like this one.
    I was reading an inspirational book titled “God’s Psychiatry”:
    One of the finest ways to relieve tension in your life is to picture still water clearly in your mind. Maybe a little lake nestling among some pines. Maybe a tiny, cool spring on some hillside. Maybe a calm sea with gentle rippling waves.
    After the picture becomes clear, then start repeating and believing, “He leadeth me beside the still waters.” Such an experience produces a marvelous surrender and trust that enables one to face the heat of the day confidently, knowing there is refreshing and relaxed power awaiting under the leadership of one wiser than we.
    I did not have to imagine a still sea, I was on one.
    I must have slept some, because the next thing I knew it was after one.
    Diane, not wearing a watch but in tuned to her internal clock, informed me it was time to eat, so we were off to the Windjammer. It was closed. If you wanted a big lunch you best be on the Island or in the dining room. Wait! How about Johnny Rockets? That would be different. Up another deck and we were there.
    I liked the place; it reminded me of the Silver Diner. Good food and good music. We ordered the chicken club on wheat and one strawberry milkshake to share. The shake was so thick I thought I was going to pass out trying to suck it through my straw.
    After lunch, back to the pool. At about three the Solarium started to fill up with people, I am not sure why. Some time after the Ship’s horn blew we were pretty sun soaked so we headed down to the cabin. Once there we took our time showering, and we were both on the balcony when the ship started sailing a bit late for Jamaica. I snapped a few pics.
    We lounged around the cabin reading and after five we started getting dressed for dinner. Diane put on a long form fitting purple dress with a red and purple scarf around her shoulders; I put on a Jones New York gray plaid suit with an iridescent purple-blue shirt and a color coordinated J.Garcia tie. I put a silver pocket watch in my right pants pocket. I also put something special in my inside coat pocket.
    We left with a little time on our hands, so we moseyed around the shops and had a couple more pictures taken, which we did not buy, and went to dinner.
    We may have gone down to the photo area and played “who can find the picture of us first game.” I always loose.
    Tonight was Venetian night, and I looked forward to it, just like all the nights. We sat down and noticed that the younger newlyweds were not present. Wanich, who always addressed us by our first names, gave us a cheerful greeting and made his recommendations. We ordered a bottle of red wine, Mondavi, I think. I don’t like red, but I liked this one. I ordered the tomato salad, roasted garlic soup, and went for the steak again. Diane ordered a lamb dish as her main course.
    Everyone went to Labadee except us. Mike and Betty said they wished they had not. Due to the extreme heat they decided to return. They spent more time waiting to board a tender than on the island itself. I commented on how quiet it was around the pool.
    Dessert was great as usual and all of us left a little earlier than usual because we wanted to attend the Crown and Anchor welcome back reception.
    The reception was in Cleopatra’s Needle and there were free drinks and chocolate covered strawberries and such. Captain Olsen made a speech and recognized the couple that had made the most cruises with RCCL, one hundred and eleven, and awarded them a big bottle of champagne. Lynn made her Crown and Anchor pitch again. I considered that to be unnecessary since all present were already members.
    The floor was then opened to questions for the captain; any kind of question.
    I thought this should be interesting. It went something like this.
    Q. How do you spend time with your wife?
    A. How do you spend time with your wife?
    Q. How much money do you make?
    A. Not much but we have great vacations.
    Q. How many miles to the gallon does the ship get?
    A. It doesn’t, it gets 55 feet to the gallon of fuel.
    Q. How did you meet your wife from Kentucky?
    A. I meet her on a cruise ship.
    You get the drift, really intelligent questions. From behind me a women jumped up and yelled Tor! And then asked something in what was obviously Norwegian. I looked around and it was the windmill lady. The Captain looked perturbed at the question and answered in English. “No, I have no plans to visit (somewhere) when I return to Norway and that was not my mother asking.” The woman let out this huge and I mean huge laugh.
    And that was the end of that. Do not address the Captain by his first name even if you are from the same country.
    It was now time to see Two Funny Guys, I first excused myself to the men’s room but that is not where I went.
    I walked back to our seats and took Diane’s hand and we went down to deck 3 and sat very close to the stage. We were now in the most crowded section, so I looked longingly at a couple of empty seats in the mezzanine. We did not move. The Two Funny Guys were funny. They came on after Jeffrey made his very funny comments about the Hey Mon, smoke sellers in Jamaica. The Two Funny Guys interacted with the audience, yelled at them for being late, that sort of thing.
    After the show it was back to Cleopatra’s Needle for the big Karaoke semi finale competition. We sat down up front right next to the dance floor. The singing started. Diane picked up a song list and started browsing through it while I sat there with my right leg bouncing a mile a minute. I was thirsty and needed some bottled water. I took my coat off, and then I put it back on, and then took it back off. Diane said “are you okay?” Just thirsty. “We can go to the promenade and get some water and come right back” No, I don’t want to leave. A few people sang, some good, most bad. After the fifth or sixth person sang, the hostess, Michele I think, asked if Derrick is here. I stood up and walked to the microphone in front of the video prompter. Diane looked shocked. She knew I had no interest in singing a Karaoke song.
    Michele then said for me to tell the audience (the place was packed) my name, where I was from, and what I was doing.
    “Hello, my name is Derrick, I’m from Portsmouth Va. (a big cheer came up from my right) and I am celebrating my 30th anniversary. I would like to sing this song to my wife Diane who is sitting over there”. I pointed to her where she was sitting with her shoes off and her feet up on the chair in front of her.
    I then stepped away from the monitor and moved toward her. A big cheer went up. The music started, it was not a Karaoke song, it was music that I had brought myself, a very slow but jazzy ballad called “I Just Never Say It Enough”, by Wayne Watson.
    I sang to Diane. I looked her in the eyes and never looked away.
    If I called you every time that I think of you, the phone would be ringing all day. I keep thinking these feelings will mellow with time but not yet, no way. We’ve had our share of heartache and trouble, we can look back and laugh at it now, but a mystery keeps haunting me, how we hurt those we love most somehow, somehow.
    A real love expression is long overdue, so hear my confession of my love for you-I just never say it enough and before it’s too late and time’s up; you’re more than all I dreamed you’d be, an answered prayer, a gift of God above. But I just never say it enough.
    I believe God inhabits the human heart. I believe it more now than ever before and I see His reflection in You, in You and I’m sure, yes I’m sure that a real love expression is long overdue, so hear my confession of my love for you- I just never say it enough…so before it’s too late and time’s up, you’re more than all I dreamed you’d be an answered prayer, a gift of God above.
    But I just never say it enough. I just never say it; I just never say it enough. Nooo, I just never say it, I just never say it enough. Noooo… oh…. oh.
    I finished the song, I have sung before at my Church, but never in front of a crowd quite this happy. The all came to their feet and cheered, and it was loud. I put the mike back on the stand, took a little bow and ran over and kissed Diane.
    Michele then told the audience that I was not part of the competition; I just wanted to sing something special for my wife.
    Sometime later a gentleman with a large group won the competition with his great rendition of “Proud to be an American”. We all cheered for him.
    He was good, but not as good as me. That was Diane’s opinion, not mine.
    Karaoke ended and many people came over to congratulate us, including the right side people, who were there from Virginia Beach, thus the reason for the cheer. The man who won said “you had us all crying over here”.
    An hour or so later, after a walk and a snack, and a trip to the Vault that did not last long, we went to our cabin and found a cute towel dog sitting on the bed.
    I knew it was going to be a good day. It turned out better than planned.
    Derrick
  16. -Gramps-

    Looking Up

    By -Gramps-,

    Diane has spent the last week in Florida visiting our daughter, Jeri, and her family. The care of myself, Joel, the house and last but not least, Teddy Bear, has been left to me.
    That means that I need to take a high-energy, long-legged Cocker Spaniel for a walk every day or he goes stir crazy. When that happens he rings the bell hanging by the back door every ten minutes so that someone, me, will let him out.
    Getting up from the couch every ten minutes tends to spoil the continuity of the football game or whatever it is that I am watching at the time.
    I have taken him for a walk every day, except one rainy day, since Diane left. We walk in our own neighborhood. The weather has been good. The skies have been blue and the leaves are starting to have their best color. Teddy walks with his nose to the ground. Scents are like candy to him. He reads the entire local doggy P-mail at each mailbox post. He sniffs the trash cans. I give him the leash every now and then just so he can follow a scent trail until he decides to resume his happy little trot down the street. It quickly becomes obvious that my dog enjoys living in the moment.
    I have taken a cue from Teddy Bear. I don’t walk with my nose to the ground of course, but I still use my senses to enjoy the moment.
    I see. Most people tend to watch their own feet when they walk. I look up. I watch the gentle swaying of the trees in the wind. I glance at the sun as it peeks between the branches of the tall pines. I take in the contrast of the red maples against a bright blue sky. I notice the clouds moving across the sky and just like when I was a kid they start to take on shapes. One might become a ship, another a flock of sheep, another the profile of a sleeping old man.
    I listen. The wind in the trees reminds me of the ocean on a calm day with the waves gently crashing against the shore. Wind blowing through a grassy field sounds the same way. There is something about that sound, that continuity, that I find peaceful. It is a common thread that our Creator has woven though his creation.
    I smell. Well, you know what I mean. I use my nose. I smell the leaves wet with dew. I smell the wood smoke coming from fireplace chimneys that we walk by. Smells provoke memories, more than sights or sounds. When I smell wood burning, I am carried back to the mountains, where I am sitting around a campfire with my family and my friends. I remember the nights spent in a tent, looking up at the stars through the screen window, listening to the wind in the trees. I think about how my life has changed from tent to coach both literally and figuratively.
    This last Sunday Teddy Bear and I took our walk at the Portsmouth Seawall. We walked along the Elizabeth River while watching the ships in the yards across the river in Norfolk. I looked at the downtown Norfolk skyline while Teddy checked out all the smells. We listened to the water lapping against the seawall. We both watched other walkers, human and doggy. We talked to both.
    There is a boat landing built into the seawall where the ferry to Norfolk docks. Mariners visiting Portsmouth can dock there as well. As we were walking buy I smelled charcoal smoke. It took me a minute to find the source. It was coming from a metal chimney on a ketch, a sailboat. The smell made me think of salmon steaks on the grill, corn on the cob and a cold one. I wondered whether the person in the boat was getting ready to cook steaks or shrimp or just taking the chill out of his floating home.
    We spent quite a bit of time in the Portsmouth Marina, walking by the boats docked there. We gazed at a multi million dollar yacht. I looked with admiration at a wooden, teak to be exact, schooner that was built in 1938. It had either been restored or a lot of people have been giving it tender loving care for a long time. Either way it was a beautiful boat.
    Where have these boats been, I asked myself. Have any been around the world? I imagined what it must be like to be at sea, no land in sight, sailing to some exotic location.
    As I was looking at the boats, some big, some small, some huge I reminded myself that I own something like it only it is on wheels.
    I read all the names. “Sail Away,” “Endeavor II,” “The Christine Marie,” to name a few. I found the last name to be interesting because that is my daughter’s name. One of my favorite names was “Better Times.” We can only hope that is the case for us all.
    There will be better times, but right now isn’t so bad, either. Like Teddy Bear keeps telling me ... enjoy the moment.
    Well, got to go. Diane will be at the Norfolk airport in an hour. Seeing her again is a moment I am going to enjoy, for sure.
    Speaking of better times, Jeri is expecting a healthy baby boy sometime around April 7, 2012, on her son Dylan’s birthday.
    Things are looking up.
    Gramps
  17. -Gramps-

    "Cruising" Day Three

    By -Gramps-,

    Reading this old blog makes me want to take another cruise. I'll settle for a long trip in the coach to somewhere really warm, like Tarpon Springs. Hopefully that should happen soon.
    Voyager of the Seas 10-06-2002 to 10-13-2002
    Part III Sunday: Departure, Dinner, enjoy the Night
    “I want to go to the Windjammer! I’m hungry!” I did not voice these thoughts out loud. Diane was on the balcony talking to Christine on her cell phone. “We are on board. Did not take too long to check in, the cabin is the same as last year, etc, etc.” As many of you already know the main topic of conversation on a cruise is cruising. That’s just the way it is. It will not change, so we just have to accept it. The subject changed to Nickolas, (Diane is his Mom and gets to spell his name any way she wants) our Cocker Spaniel. This could take awhile, so being that there was no luggage to unpack, I explored the cabin. Explored is too big a word. I checked out the cabin.
    First, I did the manly thing, found the remote and turned on the TV; My Big Fat Greek Wedding was on. I love that movie! (Diane is Greek). Second, I needed to do another manly thing. I opened the bathroom door. I stood there for a while and then pushed the big white button. The sound reminded me of a joke told by the Cruise Director on our Carnival Cruise. “In case of engine failure, the captain asks that all passengers please flush at the same time.”
    Guess you had to be there.
    Diane poked her head through the door and asked if I wanted to speak to Christine. (No, I want to eat) “Sure!” I stepped through the door and took the phone. I asked her if her husband managed to fix her car yet. She told me no, but he had towed it to our house and he knew what was wrong with it and she said that he should have it fixed before we returned. I was not going to hold my breath. I heard a funny bit of dialog from the movie. I told Christine to hold on, she had to hear this. I held the phone up to the TV and turned up the volume. The mother was giving the daughter the wedding night speech:
    “Toula, Toula, (Diane has a cousin named Toula) Greek women have responsibilities, we may be lambs in the kitchen but we are Tigers in the Bedroom!”
    Toula answers with “Eu! Please let that be the end of your speech.”
    “Did you hear that Diane? Greek women are tigers in the bedroom!”
    Diane responded with something to the effect of in your dreams and then took the phone from me.
    Christine must have given the phone to Joel, because the subject changed for a minute to that of cross country racing. “Well, are you okay with eighth place?” Joel had run in the College of William and Mary invitational the day before and finished eight out of two hundred and fifty runners. He wasn’t happy with his time of 15:30. (Yea, I’m bragging) I was glad he wasn’t happy, because I knew that meant he would reduce his time next race.
    There was another announcement about the boat drill in fifteen minutes.
    Darn, I know there is salmon up there in the Windjammer. Diane was back on the balcony, still in conversation. I grabbed my camera to take a few quick shots.
    There was a knock at the door. I opened it to find our cabin steward, (I know that the official title is cabin attendant, but old habits die hard), standing in the passageway with a very friendly smile on his face. I liked him immediately. “Hello Mr. Parker, my name is Collin and I will be looking after you and Mrs. Parker...” I read on his name tag that he was from Jamaica, of course I could tell that by his wonderful accent. He wanted to take a moment to explain a few things to me such as the laundry service, the safe, (what to do if you forget your code) the mini bar. The mini bar did not look the same as the one on Explorer; it had some funny looking flaps inside the front door. I pointed to the flaps and asked Collin if this thing makes ice. He looked at me with a “Cabin 1234 has another nice idiot sailing in it” expression and informed that little bottles of booze used to go there, but had to be removed because kids kept drinking them. He then told me how to reach room service and his hours and how to reach him. As he was leaving he gave me a big smile and said enjoy your cruise.
    Diane popped into the bathroom for a minute. She came out and asked “What are you waiting for? We need to go to lunch.” Like I did not know that already? We headed out of the cabin, with my sea pass in my pocket.
    We walked past the Egyptian artifacts in their display case turned right, right again and headed up the stairs to deck 11. We would discover that our cabin, when it came to getting to all the activities we wanted to do, was in the perfect location. We turned left out the sliding doors to the Solarium Pool and then made our way aft to the Windjammer. A very cheerful attendant handed us a hot plate and napkin wrapped utensils. Take the napkin and put it under the plate and hang on to it to save your hands from the heat. We got in line and immediately heard an announcement that the boat drill was being postponed due to late arrivals. The race was causing delays.
    Where is the salmon? I found a baked square, some curried lamb, and a small focaccia bread and turkey breast sandwich. Being so hungry I was somewhat impatient and got a little peeved when a young lady kept breaking in line in front of me refilling her dirty plate. She did do me the favor of telling me in accented English what was good.
    It was so late that we did not each much, because we had early seating, dinner was only about an hour away. We headed back to the cabin to get our life jackets and head to the pumpkin roundup.
    One of my bags and Diane’s bag were sitting by our door, I rolled them in, and noticed two folded terry cloth robes on the bed. I was pleased with that surprise. A couple of weeks before the cruise I had tried to order two waffle robes and was told they were no longer for sale. I did not want to buy the velour robes because of the amount of baggage space it would require to take them home. (I’m lying, I was just too cheap.) One of the robes had a bright Royal Caribbean logo on it, the other was quite faded, an easy way to tell them apart. There were also two large, thick brown towels with a note on them. I helped Diane strap on her life jacket, I put on mine and we were off to Cleopatra’s Needle on Deck 5.
    I will not go into much detail about the mandatory boat drill. We answered the roll call, being taken by Shelby the shopping coordinator, a pretty lady with large dark glasses and told her we were in cabin 1234. “That’s a good number, wait you are the Parkers, Happy anniversary.” We said thanks and she said we would be getting a note from her. We half listened to the drill instructions; Diane was looking over our Crown and Anchor discount coupons for stuff on the ship. I was wondering how anyone who did not speak English had any idea what was going on and I was also resisting the temptation to spit on my lifejacket’s water activated beacon. (Most likely my spit did not have a high enough salt content to work.) I knew enough not to touch the whistle. I found the boat drill klaxon most annoying. Soon it was all over and we snicked off our jackets, folded them up neatly and went back to our cabin. Walking through the Royal Promenade for the first time, we heard an announcement that due to the race in Miami causing so many late boardings, our departure would be after 6 pm.
    Waiting by the door of our cabin were two bags, one of them mine. I rolled it in, and we commenced to unpacking. We found it easier to do it in shifts so we would not constantly bump into each other. Diane went first, and I hoped that there would be some drawers left for me. There is surprisingly, plenty of storage space in the cabins. I took the right top shelf over the safe for shorts and tees. Diane did the same with the shelf just underneath. A short shelf under the safe is where we stored all the Compasses and other papers that we wanted to keep. Diane put socks, small clothing items, belts, etc in the drawers to the left of the desk; I did the same on the right. I put all my watches in the left night stand. Suits and dresses went in the closet that contained plenty of hangers. We put shoes on the floor, and some pullover shirts and such on the shelves to the right inside the closet. I stuffed all the empty bags inside of each other and pushed them under the bed. Camera and water shoes went on the curved shelves on the end of the cabinet. Small personal items went into the cabinets on either side of the mirror. The storage arrangement seems to be the same for the three RCCL ships that we have been on. No sharp corners, no protruding knobs. The inside closet door is bi-folded to get around it easier. There was one cabinet, left of the mirror, in the bathroom with room for all our bathroom things. The one inconvenience was the lack of an electrical outlet in the bathroom that will accept a hair dryer. Diane does not find the provided dryer to be adequate.
    While we were unpacking Collin came by to see if we had received all of our bags. Happily we said yes. We finished putting everything away. Diane did not want to change for dinner. She told me this as I was slipping on my suit pants. “Is that what you are going to wear?” she asked. I looked at her sitting on the couch making no move to change and answered no. I then put on some casual slacks and a rayon print shirt, my brown tassels, my new watch and we headed for the dining room. Outside was the other bag, sitting there all by itself. I took a look at the tag and it said 7234. Oops. I went back in and called that cabin but no answer. Diane spotted Collin down the passageway so she went and told him. He came and got the bag. Our good deed for the day was now done.
    Once again we took the stairs down to deck 5. We entered the Royal Promenade at the Café Promenade end. I noticed that the lighting and decor was bit more glitzy than that on the Explorer. Also a large bar stuck out in to the Promenade. I discovered later it could be difficult to maneuver by when the Promenade was crowded. We continued to the aft end and entered the Magic Flute dining room. Our table for ten, number 518, was off to the left in a corner formed by an inside wall and the window. We saw one couple sitting there. No one else would arrive tonight.
    We sat down and introduced ourselves. Wanich, our waiter from Thailand, was right there. Our assistant waiter was Joseph. We ordered dinner; main course was baked cod, and a couple of glasses of wine. When signing for the wine, I asked to change it to the wine and dine package. Wanich was happy to oblige. We ordered a Woodbridge Blush.
    Our tablemates were a little older than us, Mike and his wife Betty, from Boston. He was a CPA and they also owned a travel agency. This was cruise number 55. I am sure you have already gathered what the main topic of conversation was.
    Joseph poured our wine and we ordered dinner. This is where things get a little fuzzy. I don’t remember what I had every night; I quit keeping notes after the first night. So I can tell you this, all the menu items that Diane and I ordered were very good. No complaints at all. I usually ordered appetizer and the soup, salad, entrée and one dessert. Diane sometimes added the soup. We almost always went with Wanich’s recommendations. In other words, dinner was good and the service was excellent, friendly and fast.
    Diane and I were in pretty good spirits. We had a good meal, watched Miami slip away through the window. We had dined, now it was time to dance.
    We had some time to kill before the show so we visited some of the shops. I noticed that Sprinkles Ice Cream was not open yet and would not be for quite some time. We walked down to deck 4 and entered the theatre for the Welcome Aboard Show. Jeffrey Arpin, our cruise director could be quite funny and was more relaxed and natural than any of our previous Cruise Directors.
    The singers and dancers were at the first show, but I don’t remember them, I do remember Dan Wilson the starring comedian, and the acrobatics of “Duo Claudio” which were pretty amazing.
    After the show we went outside on deck 4 for a private stroll to the helipad observation point where we stared at the millions of stars, looked at each other, smooched for a while and did the “King of the World” on the bow of the ship. We didn’t climb up on the railing (it is angled inward to stop that) but it was still fun. The wind started to make Diane’s eyes tear up so we decided to visit the spa. Unlike previous cruises we wanted to make good use of that facility. So we made the climb up the stairs to deck 12. Once there we signed up for a couple’s massage class for the coming Wednesday and Diane went on the cancellation list for a Seaweed treatment on Saturday. The Sea days book up quick. We took a quick look around and headed back to deck 5.
    Time is not the same on a cruise as it is at home. It plays tricks on you out there. We went dancing in Cleopatra’s Needle and it was over before we knew it. We saw the crowd start to gather for the Bon Voyage parade which did not interest me due to the fact I do not like standing in the middle of a large standing crowd. We watched a few minutes of it from our deck. Sometime after eleven pm we called it a day headed back to our cabin, got ready for bed, put on our robes and visited the balcony. We watched and listened to the luminous sea, for awhile anyway.
    Derrick
  18. -Gramps-
    We have been sitting on lot #3 at the Deer Creek Motorcoach Resort (The one in Galax, Virginia) for about 18 days now, give or take a day. For most of the last five it has been raining hard. If there was ever any question about how well our coach roof is sealed, we now have the answer ... it is definitely waterproof. I performed maintenance on it just before the monsoon arrived.
    I washed it, resealed some of the seams with self-leveling Dicor sealant, the kind that needs a caulk gun to apply, and repaired some holes and rips in the slideout toppers. I also spray painted the chassis rails with black rust killing paint. That operation was more for cosmetics than anything else.
    This visit to Deer Creek has been a bit of a strange one. It started out with the promise of sunshine, golf and walks in the woods. Two days after our arrival, tragedy came. It forced us to change our plans and make new ones. Diane flew to Florida from Greensboro, North Carolina, on May 4. She returned on Mother's Day. Teddy Bear and I met her at the airport. It was clear from her expression that it had been a rough trip. The flight was okay; it was the event itself that was so tough to go through. Watching your grandson be born only to see him die a few hours later is not something that I personally want to be a witness to. I suffered the loss from the comfort of my coach, surrounded by God's countryside and with friends close by. Diane was right there with our daughter and husband. There are no adequate words to express the sadness that fell over all of us, but for those in the hospital it was such a deep emotional experience that it drained some of the life out of them.
    Now comes the questions, most of which have no answers, or maybe they have the same answer and that is, "We can't know why some things happen, just trust that the Lord is in charge." What else can be said when it comes to the death of a newborn baby? What else can be said when a pregnancy goes wrong and forces a child that can't survive to be born early? It seems like a simple, almost-cliche answer, but it is the only one that will allow the one asking it to have any peace. "Just trust the Lord."
    Now we are trying to get on with our lives. Diane lost a week, so to speak, here at Deer Creek, so we added another one. That would have been fine if it wasn't for the fact it has rained and rained and then rained some more. We have managed to make a quick trip to Mt. Airy for some walking and shopping. We did have a picnic up on the Blue Ridge Parkway and hike one of our favorite trails. I lost a camera lens hood during that trip. I dropped it in a swift flowing creek and it disappeared downstream before I could get to it. Normally, losing an expensive camera accessory, which has happened a couple of times over the years, would bother me to no end, but this time it annoyed me for only a few minutes.
    Now I am just sitting here in the coach, looking out the bedroom window at the dark clouds still hanging over our heads. I am asking God to move them on, blow them away, the clouds in the sky and the ones in my heart. Pour on the Sunshine because we need to know that sunny warm days still are possible. They are, of course. Everything passes and most of the time it gets better. It takes just that ... time.
    Family helps.
    My Mom and Dad drove up from Lexington for one day. We took a trip north on the Parkway to a quaint little place called Fancy Gap. We ate sandwhiches a a great little deli ... the Gap Deli, as a matter of fact. Then we went shopping at a gift/garden center. I bought a large concrete Wren for one of our flower beds. Diane bought a hand painted weathered board from a barn. It has flowers and Welcome painted on it. We later added the number 3 to it. After visiting the gift shop we went to a clothing outlet. Both Mom and Diane found something really nice but still really cheap or should I say low priced.
    We drove back to Deer Creek in a hugh downpour.
    Friends help.
    The day after Diane left for Florida, Gordy and Bill, two of my fellow owners and neighbors, convinced me to go golfing at Gordy's club. I didn't feel much like it but Diane told me to listen to them and go. I played with some distraction but the fellowship was really good.
    While Diane was away I attended a Derby Day Party and Fish Fry at our clubhouse. I provided a large salad made of white and red grapes, blue cheese crumbles, walnuts, red cabbage and romaine lettuce. I dressed it with a home made fresh vinaigrette made from fresh lemon juice, chives and light olive oil. It contained no vinegar so maybe it should have been called a lemongrette.
    I bet on the favorite horse "Dialed In" to win but I lost a buck to the person who bet on "Animal Kingdom" the 34 to one long shot. Good thing I didn't have to pay out according to the odds.
    Keeping busy helps.
    I extended the the Wi-Fi to the back of the resort. It wasn't that hard to do.
    I installed a wireless repeater. Due to the rain I have not permanently mounted it. Hopefully I can do that before the week is out.
    There are plenty of ways to keep busy when owning a motor coach.
    I washed the coach last week.
    I have washing and waxing the coach down to a science.
    I use Blue Coral concentrated car wash and a deck brush on the roof of my coach. It is a stronger detergent based cleaner and has brighteners in it. It does a great job of cleaning a white fiber glass roof and will remove stains from chalking and rubber really well when applied at full strength. It will steak the side of the coach so always wash the roof first. Don't wash it at all unless prepared to clean the whole coach.
    For washing the coach I use the Mr Clean Pro system. It is no longer in production which keeps me from buying the filters and the special cleaner for the system. They might be available online but I don't feel like going to the trouble of buying that way. After some experimenting I found easily available substitutes for the water filter and the cleaner. I use an inline water filter readily available at Wal-Mart and for the cleaner I found that Armour All Extreme Shine car wash, the orange stuff, and a long handled soft bristle brush works very well.
    I prefer to use Protect All when waxing the coach. Unfortunately, it is not as easy to get as it used to be. Wal-Mart's RV section has shrunk to almost nothing over the last few years and they had the best price. Now they don't carry it at all. The next best thing is once again an Armour All product....Extreme Shine Detailing Spray. It is made with Carnuba wax, sprays on easily and wipes right off. Just like Protect-All it can be used on all surfaces including chrome, clear coat, rubber and glass.
    I removed the non working wet bay heater. I directly connected it to my chassis battery and discovered that the heater functions fine. I still have a problem. I spent one day cleaning the inside of the coach which included repairing my wife's Dyson vacuum cleaner. I repaired a rattling bedroom speaker. Just a bit of Elmer's glue around the copper braided wires that pass through the paper cone of the speaker stopped the noise. I purchased an old fashioned foot edger. That tool and a bit of foot work improved the looks of pad #3 It now has a nice clean edge, full of standing water, all the way around.
    Writing helps.
    I wrote a letter to my grandson. I can't reread it without crying, but it still helped to write it.
    I am writing now and it feels pretty good to be doing so.
    Reading helps.
    After delivering Diane to the Airport, I purchased a book in a gift shop/bookstore. It is "The Art of Racing in the Rain." It is the sad and happy story of the life of a dog written from his point of view. That is an idea not foreign to me at all....
    I finished reading it in one day. The same day Daniel was born and died.
    The book made me think that it is just possible that my grandson is playing catch on some beautiful piece of very green grass somewhere with Nickolas my dog.
    I will be with them one day.
    For now, I will enjoy being with Diane, my kids and grandsons, Teddy Bear, and my friends.
    I will also keep busy until one day gets here.
  19. -Gramps-
    Saturday morning was sunny, but a bit chilly. Gary and I broke camp and pulled in our slides. He had not put his main one out because it just did not work smoothly. We discovered, the night before, that my main slide had a fraying cable so it would not be deployed for our second night. This would make the interior of the coach a bit tight but that was the breaks so to speak.
    The night before, while Gary and I were repairing my bedroom slide out topper/telephone pole mishap we had a visitor from Ohio who was also staying in the campground. He happened to see me on top of a ladder that was on top of a picnic table with my arms under the topper. We told him the whole sad story and he told us that the campground staff had warned him about that pole when he made his reservation. We received no such warning. He also warned us that we would not like the stretch of Interstate 77 between Beckley and twenty miles past Charleston. He informed us the traffic would be intolerable.
    While all this chatting was going on the ladies decided on our Saturday itinerary. Get up; get out on the road with Canton, Ohio being our next stop for the night. First would be brunch at Tamarack. This was the place that Diane had wanted to revisit for many years. She had been there once before during an auto cross country trip from Oregon to Virginia that she made with her cousin Elaine and two greyhounds. It is a very nice marketplace for area craftspeople and it has a restaurant run by the Greenbrier, a famous West Virginia five star resort. Also Saturday the tenth was her birthday and we all felt that a stop there was a small present but it was what she wanted.
    We called it a night. I tried to eat a bowl of soup but my phone keep ringing off the hook with customer calls. I thought that calling me after eight pm on a Friday night was a bit ridiculous. I kept telling them to call me back on Monday.
    The next morning, right after we all sang Happy Birthday to Diane, Gary and I started dumping, disconnecting and rolling hoses up. I did have a problem with the bedroom slide out. The topper would not retract. I pulled the slide in and the topper folded up like a fan. I put it back out and pulled my ladder back out of the basement. I climbed up and opened the topper cover and gave the roller a bit of a spin. It made a snapping noise and wound up quickly, like a window shade let go of too fast. It retracted just fine after that and I never had another bit of trouble with it.
    The ladies drove our cars back to the mine country store parking lot. Gary and I secured our campsites; we had to attach cables and locks. Then we carefully drove our coaches down the steep hill and made a right turn at the bottom. We met up with our cars and hooked them up. A few minutes later we were on our way. We made a left turn, back up the road carefully past the offending pole and then to the main street through town.
    We had good directions to Tamarack. It was a quick journey of a couple of miles, located right next to I-77 at exit 45. It's red peaked roof made it easy to spot. Tamarack has a huge bus and rv friendly parking lot. That is a good thing when you are suffering from post pole collision syndrome. (At breakfast I attempted to make some jokes about the telephone guy hitting the telephone pole but no one thought they were all that funny, including me).
    Tamarack was great. I was impressed. There were so many fine crafts there. Handmade baskets, quilts, glass etching, textiles and photography were all on display and for sale. We could see that it would take some time to eyeball it all and we were hungry so we walked over to the food court. They served cafeteria style. I glanced at the menu and saw what I wanted right away, the West Virginia Rainbow Trout and Eggs.
    The good sized trout filet was pan fried with two eggs over easy and served with Home Fried Taters and the biggest fluffiest biscuit I have ever eaten. It was really good. Along with the fish and eggs I had a bottle of hot and spicy V-8.
    Gary ordered the same thing and the ladies each had the Appalachian Omelet with fried green tomatoes (in the omelet), Red Eye Country ham and Swiss Cheese. It also came with home fries and Biscuits all for 4.95. They raved about it.
    Breakfast was worth every dime. After eating it was time for some exploring. First though I got a call from my parents asking where we were. I told them our location and also let them know that we hoped to be at our place in Galax by the following Wednesday or Thursday at the latest. We hoped to have a visit with them at some point.
    I also made a call to Joel. He was having a yard sale, at our home, with proceeds going towards medical bills he received for treatment of a dislocated finger. That happened during a soccer game. If you ever dislocate a finger do not go to a hospital emergency room. Find an Urgent care or just put up with the pain until you can see a doctor. An emergency room will sock it to you cost wise. Some of the proceeds of the yard sale would also go towards funding the band he is a member of. Joel is the drummer, the band is called Long Division and they just self released a CD.
    You can sample the album by clicking here:
    http://www.longdivisionband.com/
    The yard sale seemed to be going well. The band had made over 250 dollars by ten thirty. By the end of the day they would make 450 dollars.
    I found this out while we were walking around Tamarack looking at all their great craftwork.
    Around noon we were ready to continue our journey. We headed up I-77 and I mean up, to Parkersburg where we stopped for fuel. From there we continued to Clearwater RV Park in Uniontown, Ohio. It was quite the drive. We crossed the New River Gorge over the bridge that is famous for its wild bungee jumping. We traveled through Charleston. We made some wild stops to pay tolls and had some interesting encounters with slow moving truckers.
    At our exit for the rv park we had to make a right turn at the bottom of the exit ramp. Two cars in the left turn lane turned right instead and swung around Gary, who was leading us. The cars went into the oncoming traffic lane and then moved over and cut him off. It always amazes me how non thinking drivers believe our rigs can stop on a dime.
    We traveled without any more incidents down a long hilly country road until we reached the rv park. The park had a small water park that was not open yet. There was also a mini golf course. We parked our rigs, set up camp, had a nice talk with the park manager and then played a round of golf. The birthday girl won. After that I fired up my grill and toasted some hamburgers.
    We sat in Gary and Janis' coach and ate dinner while we chatted about our list of things we hoped to accomplish in Elkhart. The List of things included repairs as well as places we wanted to see. Top of our list of places to visit was the RV Hall of Fame.
    By nine we were all ready to call it a night. Diane and I avoided spending too much time in the too small living area (it was full of slide out) and decided to watch TV in the bedroom. I had recently installed a new 26 inch LCD and I figured that watching some old episodes of Christy would be a good way to end day two.
    I never saw the end of the episode. After about twenty minutes I was out cold. I woke up at the end of it. Diane missed it as well. So it was time for lights out. We wanted to get an early start. We hoped to be at Elkhart by late afternoon.
    Both coaches were getting anxious. So were the people in them.
  20. -Gramps-
    Yesterday, Teddy Bear, our Cocker Spaniel, was very ill. We don't know how, but he he picked up a gastro bacterial infection. It knocked him for a loop. He wouldn't eat, or drink anything, on his own. If we coached him, he would take a bit of yogurt, or maybe eat an ice cube, but neither would stay down for long. I can tell you it scared both Diane and myself. I guess we are still a bit raw-nerved from the loss of our Nickolas just five short months ago. Actually, I was more than scared, I was numb.
    Diane and I made a trip to the vet late in the day yesterday. The good doctor there ran a few tests and determined that Teddy picked up a germ somewhere that was reaking touble in his gut. She gave him a shot for nausea, which started to work really fast. She also prescribed a dose of antibiotics. We went home, relieved to know that the trouble was not something that needed anything major to fix, like surgery.
    This morning he still had problems keeping food down but he continued to try to eat. This evening he seems to be doing okay. I don't think he is all that crazy about a diet of chicken broth and white rice, but he is eating it.
    So "Oh Lord, not again" is really true. Because of prayer and medicine that is working, it is not happening again. We are not losing our dog.
    Gramps.
  21. -Gramps-

    "Cruising" Day Nine

    By -Gramps-,

    Part IX Saturday: Room Service and Farewell
    We received a call at eight in the morning. A cheerful voice was at the other end asking us if we were ready for our breakfast. I sleepily replied in the affirmative. I jumped up, robed up and hit the head. While in there I heard a knock at our cabin door. Diane let the room service waiter in. I heard the rattle of cups and plates. Not knowing exactly where the waiter was located, I did not open the bathroom door for fear that I would knock him into the closet. Diane asked if she needed to sign anything, he said no; enjoy your breakfast and then the cabin door shut. I stepped out. There was a lot of food sitting on the small coffee table. I moved as much of it out to the even smaller balcony table, leaving the tray of herb tea and decaf balanced on the bed. It was Diane’s idea to order room service the night before and I have to admit it was a good one. It was great to just sit there and soak up the salt air and listen to the ocean pass by. Breakfast was eggs, fruit, and Danish and a lot of each. I bit into a Danish…..Prune! I hate Prunes. On every cruise for the last fifteen years I have avoided prunes. Diane said eat it, you won’t die. It was not bad actually. We took our time. We wanted our last day at sea to be a lazy one. The biggest project of the day would be to repack. I was not looking forward to that at all.
    After breakfast we put on our swim gear, Diane covered up with a pair of shorts as usual and we tried to do our next usual thing; head down to deck 4 for our fast walk. We picked up some hand weights in the spa and went to deck 4, but both ends were closed for cleaning. We had no other choice but to try the jogging track on deck 12. At first I did not like it. It was hard to keep up any kind of pace because it is also the walk way between the deck chairs, plus it is too short. I decided to expand our course by looping through Adventure Ocean, the kids’ area aft, and picking the track up on the other side. For about forty five minutes we quickly walked around the sun worshippers including the Norwegian windmill.
    After our walk we went back down to 1234 to pick up books, towels and such, climbed back up the stairs, past the blowers still drying out the carpet, and picked out two chairs in the Solarium. Choosing our chairs is not that easy, not now, nor was it earlier in the week. We want to sit together of course, but I need a chair in the shade and Diane wants one in the sun. This takes some effort; accomplishing this task takes a lot out of me and makes me hungry. This morning we were fifty percent successful, in Diane’s opinion anyway. We had to take two chairs in the shade in front of the open glass wind screen facing the sea. Mine was next to a planter that made a good spot to put my sunglasses and book. I was finishing Cold Mountain.
    Inman walked through mountain country and kept to the trails and saw few people. He measured out distance in portions of a day. A full day’s walk. Half a day. Less than half a day. Anything shorter than that was just a little piece down the road. Miles and hours became concepts he disdained since he had not the means to measure either.
    He was held back in his travels after he came upon a little-sized woman sitting humped up on a fence rail crying for her dead girl. The woman’s bonnet hood shaded her face so all Inman could see was black but the tip of her nose. When she turned her face up to Inman, though, the tears dropping from her jawbone sparkled in the morning light. She held her mouth slitted open in anguish so that in Inman’s mind it resembled the sputcheon to a sword scabbard. The sun was not up good yet and she was about to have to bury her child wound up in an old quilt, for she had no idea of how to make a box.
    Cold Mountain is about a Confederate soldier, a good one, also a good man, who after recovering from a serious wound and in the hospital, deserts and decides to walk three hundred miles home to his one true love. It is a haunting book with the ability to make a grown man cry. Diane, when she was awake, continued to read her Nora Roberts book.
    We did not move from our chairs until lunch. We left our stuff on our chairs, grabbed a slow bite in the Windjammer, returned and took up right where we left off. The only interruption was some too loud announcements. We slept, we dipped in the pool, we read and then we slept some more. At three we called it a good day at the pool and headed back to our cabin for showers and packing, not necessarily in that order.
    Diane and I had grown much closer during this trip. The cruise was a healing balm for both of us, but the time to leave was now very close; pulling the bags out from under the bed was a strong indication of just how close the end really was. I started packing my stuff first. I really did not care how straight my shirts, including the ones I had not worn, went back in my bag. But Diane who had spent a lot of time ironing them did. This was the only time we had words with each other that were anything less than kind. I repacked my shirts the way she wanted me too.
    We showered and packed in shifts, leaving out our dinner clothes. Around five we started to get dressed. Diane put on a short form fitting sleeveless B Moss pink dress with matching shoes. I put on a three button black Liz Claiborne suit, wine colored shirt, tie and pocket square combo that had stripes of color that matched Diane’s dress. I laced up my black Bostonians and we were on our way.
    Dinner was bittersweet, it was after all our last, and we enjoyed each other’s company but we knew we were saying goodbye and would in all probability not see or hear from each other again. That is just the way it is. So a lot of flashes flashed during dinner. Wanich would be missed; he took our orders for wine, Malligahanney Soup, salad and prime rib. We chatted about the many highs and few lows of our collective cruises, the avoidance of packing and scheduled flights home. The evening passed quickly. Dessert arrived; hugs were made, last pictures taken, envelopes handed to the very deserving persons who received them with thanks. And then it was time to leave, Wanich needed table 518 for the second round of goodbyes.
    We made our last roam around the ship. I looked at the watch that I had forgotten to buy, but the shop was busy and I was not in the mood to buy it anyway. We finally made our way to the theatre for the Farwell Show. The farewell video was playing. The dancers were good, Jeffrey was funny as always, and the crowd was happy but subdued. When the staff made their farewell entrance, everyone gave loud applause to show our appreciation for a good week. Jason Chase the Comedian followed the acrobatics of Duo Claudio. It took a little time for him to warm up the audience, but he did fine. The show ended, we received some “how to leave the ship” information from Jeffrey and that was that.
    We went to the photo area and bought the pictures we wanted and choose to opt out on purchasing the video. We then went to Cleopatra’s Lounge to hear “Sister Sez” the very good house band and dance for the last time. Before midnight we went back to our cabin, where a crocodile and the last little Compass newletter where on our bed. I rolled our luggage out into the hall and we turned out the lights. I sat up and watched The Count of Monte Cristo and missed the middle of it because I fell asleep. I saw the very end and turned off the television. I opened the balcony door so that I could listen to the ocean just a bit longer.
    I was beginning to feel melancholy and a bit lost. I was grateful that we were not flying home the next day but shuttling to the airport, picking up a rental car and driving to Melbourne. We would be easing ourselves back into the real world, a place that I did not want to return to and in some ways, as I am writing this, I am still not there. I am still on the Voyager, with my beautiful wife and you.
    Derrick
  22. -Gramps-

    "Cruising" Day Six

    By -Gramps-,

    People, after reading this cruise story, have asked me how I remembered so many details. The answer is....I don't know. Half the time I can't remember where I put my car keys.
    Part VI : Wednesday; Learn to Rub Her the Right Way or A very Adult Day!
    We both woke around eight. Diane was still pretty mellowed out from the night before until I knocked over a glass of last night’s wine into the phone. I grabbed a towel and mopped it up. We had to keep our appointment with Joe, and her body composition tester, in the fitness center at nine, before breakfast, so we got up and dressed as the ship was pulling into Ocho Rios. I find it interesting this ship does not need the use of a tug boat. With its azipods and lateral thrusters she can maneuver with speed or finesse completely on her own. The crescent shaped harbor was more attractive than I thought it would be, and since our cabin was on the port side we had a perfect view.
    I grabbed a small piece of our anniversary cake and wolfed it down and then we left our white animal menagerie (2 birds and a dog) on the couch and headed upstairs to the spa. Joe was ringing up something at the register so we had a short wait. Diane climbed up on the table first, after removing her right shoe and sock. First Joe stuck a sensor to the top of Diane’s right hand and the top of her right foot. Joe then asked her age, her height (she calculated it in inches) and her weight (before the cruise of course) and entered the info on a keypad on the analyzer. It took about thirty seconds for the machine to do its thing. I went right after her.
    The results included what percent of your weight is fat and lean and the number of pounds of fat, and lean (muscle plus bone). Another result is the basal metabolic rate. The metabolic rate is how many calories your body is using each day. And the machine analyzes your total body water content in liters and the percentages of how much water is stored in the fat and in the lean weight of your body. Finally the analysis recommends what your target for all the above should be and how many total pounds you should lose. Joe said the pounds will include water, everyone stores it, percentage of weight is more for women than men except in this case, I was storing more than Diane. I was over hydrated. I believed it, water seemed to be leaving me at the same volume that I put it in.
    The bottom line was that Diane needed to lose 3.2 pounds or increase her muscle mass and I needed to drop 0.8 pounds or increase my lean mass as well. This could be accomplished by raising our metabolic rate with harder exercise. We walk a lot so she suggested we speed it up, carry hand weights, and pump the arms. In other words, become a little breathless and sweat more. If after exercising we could still talk to each other we were not working hard enough. She also recommended a good dose of vitamins including one that helps to keep everything flowing through your system properly. We both know what she was talking about. Elemis, in partnership with Steiner seems to sell a good product. She told us what a six month supply would cost and said that if we wanted the vitamins there would be full credit each for the analysis and she would throw in two really neat dry body brushes made from some kind of cactus fiber. We could come back to see her at any time during the cruise, nothing had to be bought then. We signed for the analyses and that was it. As a whole I found the session with Joe to be quite informative and helpful. We did come back and purchase a three month supply of Elemis vitamins for each of us. The price was almost the same as we have been paying for Zone vitamins so for us it was just a matter of switching brands.
    After finding out that I needed to loose weight the first thing I wanted to do was eat breakfast, Diane agreed. So it was off to the Windjammer for omelets and a lot of fruit. You may be wondering why did we do not eat in the dining room more often. It is easier for us to have a Zone Meal (a balance of protein, and carbohydrates) in the Windjammer. Plus, we like the view and the omelet station.
    After what for us was a late breakfast we went back to the spa and borrowed a couple sets of hand weights and headed down to, you guessed it, deck 4. We put on the speed this morning. All the decks were open and we walked hard. I broke a good sweat early with the extra weight. I will say this; the view of Ocho Rios was great. We walked (with me making a lot of circles on the helipad) for forty five minutes and then headed back down to our cabin.
    We saw Collin in one of the suites down the passageway from ours and exchanged cheerful good mornings. Collin had already advised us that Ocho Rios was not that good of a place to visit. He said “this is not the real Jamaica, if you want to see the real Jamaica come back for a week and visit some other really beautiful places on the island.” It was obvious that our deciding to stay on the ship (that is right, two days in a row) was not a bad idea to him. He did tell us that Dunn’s River Falls was good; however, because of Diane’s back, we were not going to go and risk a slip and a new injury.
    I would like to mention this about Collin. He was extremely friendly and cheerful. He kept the ice bucket and our wine bucket full, he watered Diane’s roses. He took the swan out of the bed where I had tucked it in and carefully placed it on the couch and he put the one that I left in the shower, with a bar of soap, back in the shower after he cleaned it, the shower, not the bird. He also had a surprise or two up his sleeve as we would find out later.
    It was now about eleven o’clock and Diane wanted to watch the excursion channel and book a swim with the rays for the next day and a snorkel and swim trip in Cozumel for Friday. We never book except through RCCL. We have heard too many horror stories about bad leaky boats, late returns and missing the ship and things of that nature. I suppose we could save a little money but we set a budget for the whole trip and if some things cost a little more, we just spend a little less somewhere else, i.e. trips for tee shirts, a nice budget blowing ring or necklace in Cozumel, less drinks on the ship. Vacation (in a Motorcoach or on a ship), just like Life, is a trade off sometimes. I just don’t care to worry about the price of every little thing.
    We made our choices for Don Foster’s Sting Ray City snorkel tour for twelve thirty on Thursday and a Catamaran snorkel and swim for ten am on Friday in Cozumel. I followed the instructions for booking through the TV and accidentally bought the first excursion twice. I discovered that about a minute later after looking at our sea pass charges. I would have to have those charges removed. I planned to take care of it right after lunch. We did nothing but sit for a little while on the balcony and then headed for lunch in the Windjammer again.
    I had some kind of seafood stew with mussels and clams and shrimp and boy was it good. Also some lamb, Greek salad and other stuff. I chased that with a Canolli, (I hope I spelled it correctly), that sinful little flaky pastry with the cream filling. (it ain’t a Twinkie) The server recommended that I take two.
    I only needed one so I took it, walked away, took one bite and turned around for another one. The server reminded me that he said I should take two. I loved those things, from then on if I noticed they were in the Windjammer or the Promenade café, I was asking for one faster than you can misspell canolle.
    After lunch it was back to the spa for our couple’s massage class. Not having a professional massage before, I was not sure what to expect, other than I thought it would be a pleasant experience. We arrived and were told to have a seat in a very attractive marble waiting room overlooking the bow. We did not have to fill out any forms as I saw others in the room doing. In about five minutes, Stacey the young looking and attractive massage therapist came and shook our hands, (Stacey’s hand felt strong but her skin was very dry which surprised me) and escorted us into a small room with marble walls, piped in music and a padded massage table. There were two low cabinets in two corners, one with a small sink; both had bottles of oil and small vials of aromatherapy scents sitting on them. Stacey asked who wanted to receive the first massage and I said Diane. She asked if Diane had underwear bottoms on (no massage if you don’t) and if so to undress and then to lie on the table. She would step out to offer Diane some privacy. It sounded to me like Stacey is from England; she pronounced all her e’s hard. Privacy sounded like preevacy. Diane thinks she is from Australia. Could be. At times, when she was giving me instructions, I had to listen carefully.
    Diane positioned herself facedown on the table, with nothing on but her Victoria Secrets, covered by a sheet. In a minute Stacey stepped back in.
    She moved very slowly and deliberately and uncovered Diane’s legs or leegs as she pronounced it and we began. First she selected a blue bottle and poured a generous amount of oil into my hands and hers. It smelled faintly of eucalyptus. She moved over Diane’s left leg, and I took the right one.
    I know that touch is very powerful so I really wanted to learn. I watched Stacey very closely. She showed me different strokes that can be used, from a delicate touch to deep-tissue kneading. Strokes varied in speed and pressure. First, I had to keep my hands relaxed and start working slowly and rhythmically to warm up Diane’s muscles, and gradually build up speed and pressure. Always stroke firmly in the direction of the heart and lightly on the return. Do not lift your hands; Diane should feel the massage as one long series of strokes. We moved up and down her legs, very lightly over the back of the knee, a very sensitive spot. I started to get a back ache, Stacey, seeing my position, said don’t just use your shoulders and hands, move your whole body, stay on top of your hands and use your legs to move. I did and it worked much better for me and Diane. After a few minutes, Stacey asked Diane how I was doing. I heard a muffled “Great!” Stacey told me I had the hands for it, that I was doing greeat. We applied thumb pressure to her feet and heels, back to the legs and we moved to her back and shoulders leaving one hand in contact with her at all times. We lightly stroked her back to warm it up applying more and more pressure staying off the spine. We moved to the head of the table to message her shoulders and neck, squeezing the muscles of her shoulders. Diane was feeling pretty good by this time. We used very little oil because the friction is important; also do not pour oil in your hands over the person because drips are distracting and cold. Stacey was not using the anti-stress oil that I would use at home because she performs so many massages; exposure to the oil all day long would wring her out. We finished and now it was my turn.
    Stacey stepped out and I undressed to my Hanes and climbed on the table.
    Stacey retuned and Diane, who looked kind of sleepy, took my right leg.
    It felt really good, my face in the whole in the table, closed eyes and soft music playing. Stacey had hands, let me tell you, she could press and squeeze. She could feel knotted muscles and give them special attention, like my shoulder blades and lower back, Diane’s right calf. Diane’s hands felt good but she was not as strong. I had four feminine hands rubbing and squeezing and kneading my legs, my feet, my back, neck and even my head. I was being indulged; a massage-a-trois’. It was wonderful. I feel asleep and did not know it.
    I heard off in the distance, “that’s how it is done.” Diane told me I could get up now. I did not want to. I dressed and Stacey came back in. She showed us the different massage oils and essential oils like lavender and such. One bottle of oil came with our class and we bought a bottle of aching muscle oil. We paid for the course, 110 dollars each and that was it. She suggested that we go to the fitness center and hit the sauna and showers. Seemed like a good idea to me.
    There was one thing that surprised me. We started the session at two, it was now four thirty. I had no idea, it seemed like only a few minutes had passed.
    We hit our separate saunas for about fifteen minutes, showered and headed back to our cabins, feeling very relaxed and a little bit tingly at the same time.
    Sometime later, we started the process for dinner, Caribbean night. I put on a Jones New York navy blue suit and a light blue shirt with French Cuffs; antique silver cuff links, a matching art deco Fossil wrist watch and a J Garcia tie with big bright red, blue, gold and purple squares. Diane wore a sea blue and green long loose skirt with a tropical design made out of gold thread, and matching sleeveless top. She slipped on white sandals with gold studs on the top. We thought we looked pretty good, we knew we were feeling good. We had rubbed each other the right way.
    Diane and I walked into the dining room, Wanich, in his vest that matched my tie, pulled out our chairs and said good evening. Betty told me I looked spiffy. We ordered a bottle of Asti. I ordered the Pepperpot soup, pork loin stuffed with apricots and nuts and Diane ordered fish with Mango Salsa.
    We both ordered the crab and shrimp salad appetizers.
    We all asked about each other’s day. Quinn and Mary took the rafting trip; our friends from Tennessee went on a jeep safari tour and sampled the local cuisine (big mistake) at a small Jerk Chicken bar. Mike and Betty stayed on board. I told them about our day, and to tell you the truth I was a bit out of it. I was under the influence of Stacey, Diane and three glasses of Asti. I did not even notice when our Tennessee tablemates fled the table, due to illness. Sometime during dessert it seemed like something was different, not sure what, oh well.
    Dinner was two hours tonight, everyone (not ill) was pretty mellow and talkative.
    We finished dinner, roamed around until time to go to the ice show at nine. Diane had picked up our tickets sometime Monday, without me. First we stopped by the excursion desk to fix our too many tickets problem. There was a very short line, we told the excursion person what I did, he said it happens all the time just ignore the extra tickets when they arrive in our cabin and he would remove the charge. Fine, on to the show.
    The ice show was cool (no pun intended). Being close to the action was a big plus. It was composed of musical numbers, flyers, and acrobatics using some kind of ring, along with a mock figure skating competition. The fake judging and sit and cry segment was a little corny, but when one of the male skaters hit a triple axle, even he got excited.
    Show over we had a little time before the Love and Marriage show at La Scala, it was a busy night tonight. We grabbed a macadamia cookie or two on the way there.
    The show was an absolute adult’s only riot. One of the couples that were chosen (by drawing) was the Norwegian Windmill. I could not believe it.
    Diane would not let me put our names in the pot. No way, no how. Considering some of the questions she was right to refuse. There is no easy way to accurately review this event. Jeffrey asks eight questions of the couples who are seated back to back, after the man and wife answer all eight; he reviews them to see how many answers match. Points are awarded for the most correct, some questions worth more points than others.
    Some of the questions were the following (not necessarily in the proper order):
    1. What color is your wife’s underwear? (she is not wearing any)
    2. Two part question, what size bra does your wife wear? (She isn’t wearing one)
    3. When and where did you meet for the first time? (three men missed this one)
    4. What was the most unusual place you did the horizontal mambo? (you can answer this one for yourself, cause I not going to tell you my answer)
    The Norwegian couple won, I think they were cheating, whispering to each other in an unknown tongue, but that is just my opinion. They received a bottle of champagne and a lot of laughs.
    The night following a good day was now over, we tried the Vault lounge but it was too smoky for us so we tried High Notes for some Latin Music instead. We danced for awhile and then called it a night. We opened our cabin door and found our tickets for the excursions, and a white elephant on the bed. I understand that seeing one of them is a good omen, a sign of good luck. I think I was about to get lucky. (I told you that this was a very adult day!)
    Derrick
  23. -Gramps-
    It has been a year, this week, since I started blogging here at FMCA.com. Boy, time sure flies when you are having stress. I have had a boat load of just that over the last year, I am talking about stress.
    It started building up more than usual around Christmas 2008 after I realized something was physically very wrong with Mike, my friend and business partner. By late March he was gone. Many of you know the story. He "passed over," to use that innocuous phrase, just after our trip to the FMCA convention in Perry, Georgia.
    After the rally we traveled on down to Florida to visit my daughter, her husband and new son.
    It was a good thing that I was away with family when Mike died. I don't think I could have handled witnessing Mike's last few moments alive in the hospital. During some of our last phone conversations, it was usually me who broke down and cried. Mike didn't care for that at all. He was always joking and kept telling me that he would be okay. I couldn't figure out if he was trying to reassure me or if he was just in denial. I guess it was a bit of both. I didn't want to loose him. We had been friends for twenty years. I didn't like looking at what my future would be without him. It didn't look good to me all.
    I was partially right. It hasn't been all good so far, but it could have been a whole lot worse if not for this site.
    On March first of last year I stumbled upon the FMCA forums. I joined and wrote some kind of blurb introducing Diane and myself. The next thing I knew I had an e-mail asking if we would take a profile survey, which we did. Not long after that, we were on the home page in the Meet the Member feature. I didn't realize at the time that this was a rather new Web site and it, just like my motorhome, was about to improve my life in many ways.
    That brings me to the purpose of this one-year blog entry.
    To say thanks. I want to thank Todd of the FMCA.com staff for making this blog and the good things it has done possible.
    I want to thank Gary and Janis, who googled "38PLT UFO," found our FMCA profile, made a phone call, and soon became great close friends. They have helped me make it through this last year. Diane and I wouldn' know what to do without you.
    I would also like to take this time to remind all my friends here of my Five Rules for Owning a Motor Coach.
    It never hurts to have a review.
    1. Owning a motor coach improves one's life ... if you let it.
    2. Keep your temper on a very short leash, because when you own a motor coach patience is not only a virtue but a necessity.
    3. Enjoy the view! Don't be in a hurry to get there, wherever there is. It isn't just the destination that matters; the journey is good for you, too.
    4. Owning a motor coach is a never-ending learning experience.
    5. Always remember rule number one.
    These rules are important. Forgetting them has consequences, and they are not pleasant ones. All of the rules have a flip side. A motorhome can make you miserable ... if you let it.
    If you don't keep your temper on a short leash, what do you think will happen? I threw a walkie-talkie against my garage door once. Don't ask why. I will tell you that I remember that display of behavior every time I use that scratched-up radio. I was able to put it back together after it flew apart. I learned from that experience. If I quit learning, I will just make more mistakes.
    If you have not read my archived entries about these rules why not take the time to do so?
    You might just learn something about yourself in the process.
    In closing, I have enjoyed my year here. I hope that all my readers, however many, have gotten something positive from my little blog.
    Thanks for viewing.
    There will be more.
    Derrick
    AKA "Gramps"
  24. -Gramps-

    "Cruising" Day Ten

    By -Gramps-,

    Part X Sunday Morning :We have to get off the ship.
    Diane and I woke at false dawn. Voyager was already docked. In just a few minutes the sunrise could be seen in the glass of the buildings outside our balcony. I took a couple of pictures. We dressed without saying much to each other. We did not have to. Diane put on a red short sleeve lace up shirt and white Capri pants. I think I put on one of my new Liz Claiborne for men tees, brown and off white linen shorts. We packed our dress clothes from the evening before in our carryons as well as all our personal care stuff. I grabbed a bottle of wine that Wanich sent to our cabin the night before and padded it with some Royal Caribbean shopping bags and stowed it away in my bag. I did an idiot check (make sure you don’t forget anything or you will feel like an idiot). We took a last look at Diane’s beautiful roses, still blooming. They were the best looking roses that I have ever bought. I picked up the Voyager Art Catalog and zipped it into my bag. We took a last look at our animal collection; made sure the balcony was locked, grabbed our bags and then just stood there. After a moment or two I said “We have to go Diane, on the count of four we roll... 1.2.3.4”.
    Out the door she went, I followed.
    We hoped to see Collin, but he was not to be seen and I really did not want to disturb him. I figured he was having a busy morning. We made it a point to leave him a very good tip and Diane wrote a very personal thank you on the envelope. He was the best.
    We passed the Egyptian art in its case for the last time and took the elevator up to the Windjammer. We assembled our normal breakfast after receiving a cheerful good morning from the plate person. How they can stay so cheerful all the time is quite a skill. We sat with another couple and talked about building a house and a little bit about cruising. I forget where they were from. We met a lot of nice people on this cruise, if only for a brief time.
    We ran into Dondi and Joe from our catamaran trip at Cozumel the night before. They went with Diane and me on our last tour of the ship. I wanted to see the Sky Chapel and the “Who’s Next?” men’s room. That is a very large bathroom on deck 11 next to the florist with water cascading down a marble wall that you, well if you know the Who’s album cover you should understand. It was different. Dondi and Diane snuck in to see it.
    We finished breakfast and decided to find a chair out on deck 4 (seemed logical to me) until our blue tags were called. We expected to be late since we were not flying out that day. We turned in our customer satisfaction forms on the way down. Deck 4 had quite a few people sitting around. We rolled our bags next to an empty chair and in just a minute our Tennessee friends came by with a couple of Labadee walking sticks. They were quite ornate but I wondered how difficult it would be to take them on the plane. They also had blue tags. We chatted awhile about South Beach which we could see in the distance and then I asked Diane if she wanted to play a game of shuffle board. She agreed but after awhile it was obvious her head was not into it. We played only one or two games. We heard a few colors being called, but it seemed to be a long time in between. It was over an hour before we heard “Blue, would all passengers holding Blue tags please proceed to customs and baggage claim” We said good bye to our tablemates. They left but we were in no hurry. We sat and looked at the South Beach skyline for about another half hour and Diane announced she needed to find the ladies room. We rolled our way back into the ship, she made her stop, a RCCL staffer moved a yellow nylon ribbon out of the way of the exit and we were off the ship.
    The line through customs was not too bad. We found out that because it was Columbus Day they were short handed. It’s always something. It took about twenty minutes to get through the line, show our proper IDs, head down the escalator (ironically island music playing) make a right turn and roll our way to baggage carousel D. All the baggage areas were quite busy. We needed three bags to come off, hopefully all in one piece. Diane had one floral bag, easy to distinguish and I had two black Kenneth Cole bags. They looked like every other black bag. Diane’s bag and my largest one came around together and I pulled them off to the floor. I looked for my second bag but it refused to show. I walked around thinking that I might have missed it. A porter walked over with his handcart and asked if he could help. Diane said that we had not found all our bags yet. He suggested that I try the other carousels; they sometimes come down the wrong one. I did, but to no avail. I was just about to announce that I was sure it was lost and find a RCCL baggage agent when Diane spotted the bag. Relieved, I lifted it to the floor. Right then I decided that when we got home, one of the first things I was going to do was buy some gigantic bright neon tags for my bags. A large friendly porter with a full gray beard (the same porter who refused to accept Liras as his tip) asked to take our bags. I had already strapped my three together and Diane’s two and we were ready to roll. He said Man, don’t hurt your back now. I told him I could handle it just fine. I pulled the first bag onto its wheels and the other two followed. It is quite a sight actually. We had one more customs desk to go through, declared all our expensive vitamins which surprised him and we went out the exit to the bus terminal. I looked back at the ship, shrugged it off and rolled toward our bus. Diane was right behind me. We dropped off our luggage climbed aboard the bus and we were told by the driver it would be about fifteen minutes before we would leave. Diane and I both opened our books.
    Twenty minutes later, after some more passengers boarded we were off to the airport. Up the terminal ramp, our departure view of the Voyager running in reverse. Soon the ship and our trip were behind us. The bus arrived at Miami airport departures terminal. We sat while the entire luggage was being unloaded. I noticed that Quinn and Mary were on board the bus. Diane and I said hello and then goodbye, they looked tense, I guess they were squeaking it to their flight. We got off the bus and hitched up the bag train again. I saw an Avis bus and tried to flag it down, but it kept right on going. A security officer walked up and told us since 911 the buses will not pick up at departures only arrivals one floor down. He escorted us to a large elevator, pushed the button, we loaded up and headed down. Once the elevator opened we exited outside and saw our bus. I waved at it, it stopped, and we loaded on board. The bus drove us to the Avis rental center and dropped us off right in front of the counters. Diane tipped the driver and watched the luggage while I went in a rented our car. I had a reservation for something mid size like an Alero, but the agent saw our bags through the window and said we needed something larger, only six dollars more per day. Sounded good to me. I signed for a Buick Century (a grandpa car according to my son). She gave me directions to Melbourne and a good map and I went to get the car. It was in spot 188, I pulled it over by Diane and we loaded up. I could not get all the bags into the trunk; two went in the back seat. We got in the car, I familiarized myself with the location of the important controls for the radio, air (it had a temperature control for each seat) lights, wipers and such. Then we pulled up to the exit booth, handed the agent our contract, she scanned it and we were on the road.
    We had a two hour drive up I-90 to Melbourne. Diane called Jeri on her cell to let her know we were on our way. Soon we were passing through Fort Lauderdale, past the airport where our cruise began almost.
    Sometime later in some small town, we stopped at Burger King for lunch. It was not the Windjammer. By four that afternoon we pulled into Jeri’s driveway. The cruise was now officially over. We would spend two days with Jeri. We were staying at the Courtyard Marriott located close to her house. The next morning we planned to visit Downtown Disney and we would be flying out of Orlando at eight thirty Tuesday night. Right now though, I was tired, needed some dinner and I knew that there would be a ball game on later. As I said before one of the drawbacks to cruising in the fall is missing the playoffs. Being with Jeri and Mark, and watching the Angels play the Twins would help me a little to readjust to the real world.
    I hoped it would anyway.
    Derrick
  25. -Gramps-

    "Cruising" Day One

    By -Gramps-,

    Don't let the amount of time that has elapsed since my last blog entry fool you, I am still alive. There has been a lot of things happening lately, but not many of those things has much to do with motorcoaching. Diane and I have been to the two of our FMCA chapter campouts (more about that later) and I spent most of today working on our coach. I am trying to repair the wet bay heater before I need it again.
    In the next couple of days I will post an up to date entry but in the meantime I have something from my old archives you might find interesting. I used to blog (before it was called that) for Cruise Critic dot com. I kept and posted a daily account of our very last cruise. One of those days I posted here sometime ago. Now that FMCA is offering member cruises, maybe you will find my account of our last cruise fun to read. If not..too bad, at least the words, and there are lots of them, will take up some space.
    It was originally a ten day, ten part posting and it received a lot of responses, from all around the world as a matter of fact. Here is Day One:
    Voyager of the Seas 10-06-2002 to 10-13-2002
    Part I Stressing, Packing, Pre-Cruising
    This cruise almost did not happen. I booked it on the first day back from our 29th anniversary cruise on the Explorer of the Seas 10-06-2001. On 911, I thought that cruise might not happen, but it did, and in spite of travel tribulations it was great. Diane and I fell in love with the Eagle class ship and had to go back for our 30th wedding anniversary. I booked an ocean view with a Crown and Anchor coupon and received a free upgrade to a stateroom with a balcony. We were told that we would be in cabin 1234. I liked that number, easy to remember, and its location, third cabin forward on the Port side, deck 10. I booked it and did not give it another thought for five months. There were too many other things to think about. A ship load of stress was sailing right at us.
    A few days after returning from the Explorer cruise our daughter Jeri informed us that she wanted to move her February wedding to December. Having two months to plan a wedding was bad enough, but to have it during the Christmas season was a tough order to fill. Hotels have parties galore during that time and finding an empty meeting room large enough to hold a wedding was not going to be easy. Not to mention that I was now going to be short almost four months income to help pay for the darn thing. We managed to pull it off. Jeri and her husband had a wonderful wedding, very intimate and very beautiful, thanks to her mother. But boy was it stressful.
    Next came Christmas and all the decisions that come with that holiday. We have family scattered all over the place and they all want us to spend time with them. We ended up with my parents and they overbooked so we had to sleep in a two story shed in their backyard that was full of ladybugs, millions of them. We had an interesting night to say the least. We slept on an old couch with a pull out single bed, both of us in the same bed, while the lucky ladybugs slept in the double bed with the nice mattress upstairs. Both Diane and I went home with prophetic back aches.
    I am self employed, in the wacky telecommunications business. At the end of December I sold the largest system I have ever sold in eleven years. I sold it to a very high profile company with a lot of important partners; one of the partners makes beer and owns theme parks. It took me three months to install it and tweak it to my satisfaction. I just finished it when our oldest daughter Christine and her two year old son decided that they needed to move back into her old bedroom if you know what I mean.
    So, I barely had time to catch my breath from three months of hard work when I found myself with two more mouths to feed and a new job. I was now Derrick the marriage counselor. This was a job that I did not want and did my best to refuse. My wife had to put up with all of us. Stress moved in like a child comes home. From March to June things were very tough.
    In May we remodeled our main bathroom. We gutted it and started over. It was a lot of work but we had no choice, the room was falling apart. We and our contractor finished it in early June. Because of scheduling problems and supply problems and labor problems and children problems I missed my parent’s 50th wedding anniversary celebration. I hate to say it but I didn’t care. I was too tired to care.
    In late June things got tougher. Diane woke up one morning and had such terrific backside and leg pain that she could not get out of bed. Christine managed to get her to the emergency room. She had a pinched nerve. Duh! Take Tylenol number 3 and Motrin 800, that will fix it, they said. It didn’t. She suffered in silence for two or three weeks until I said it was time to visit a chiropractor. We did, and he informed us that she was in pretty bad shape. She could barely walk, and would require three visits a week for the next few months. It was then that I remembered our cruise. The good doctor said that he would her would have her ship shape and ready to go, on time. I said thank you and wrote him a large check. (Large enough for a cruise)
    In August Christine moved into her own apartment. Business had been slow for the past two months, but that was a blessing in disguise considering the fact that I had to spend quite a bit of time grocery shopping and looking after the things that Diane normally did. When you have a seventeen year old boy in the house, you have to buy a lot of food. Often. I wanted to cancel the cruise, Diane said no. In mid August I made the final payment on the cruise and travel insurance. Diane followed her doctor’s advice to the letter; I went back to work and hoped that October first would arrive quietly and we would have some peace until then. That was not to be.
    In mid September we found out that Diane’s mother had Alzheimer’s disease. This of course caused another family crisis and led to court orders and guardian hearings and wonderful stuff like that. I wanted to cancel the cruise. Diane said no. Two weeks before departure date, Diane and her brother placed her mother in an assisted living facility.
    The day before departure I went with Diane to the Chiropractor’s office. He wanted to show me some new ways to use my elbow so that I could administer some relief to Diane in case she needed it while we were gone. The good doctor ended up putting me on the table after I told him that I was having back pain. Christine’s car had broke down two days before causing her to borrow Diane’s car and the stress was torque-ing me out of shape.
    We barley had time to do all the pre cruise dry cleaning, shopping and things like that, but God help us, we pulled it off.
    On Friday, October the fourth, at 5:30 in the morning, Christine, Diane and I left for the Norfolk airport. We had five bags (three of them mine), plus a camera bag, a makeup bag, not mine, and a purse, also not mine. I tend to pack too much. This trip was no exception. Diane and I like to dress up every night on the cruise. I was hoping that Southwest would not hit us with overweight charges. Diane told me not to pack my cedar shoe trees (four pairs), just stuff your shoes with a pair of socks or tissue paper. I thought that was a good idea and then did not follow her advice. Those trees added six pounds. I packed a tux (for two nights), a black suit, a grey suit, a blue suit, and a grey plaid suit. I wore them all. I packed two too many shirts and ties because I was too tired to make up my mind the night before. I could not sleep at all and found myself on the Cruise Critic boards writing another installment to our first cruise memoir.
    About ten minutes out Diane realized that she had forgotten to put her rings on after pouring finger nail polish remover from a large bottle into a travel size bottle. She said she didn’t like the idea of going on an anniversary cruise without her wedding ring. I informed her that there would be no cruise if we returned for her rings. Christine said here take mine, it doesn’t mean that much to me anyway. Diane borrowed Christine’s big stone and put it on. It was a bit large but it would have to do.
    We arrived at the airport and unloaded; because the line was very long we ignored curb service check in, strapped all our bags together and pulled the train into the station. There was no line at the Southwest counter. We checked in and took our checked bags to the explosive screening station. I was surprised to see that it was a member of our church working there. He saw me and told us to let him handle our bags. He wiped them down thoroughly and they passed and He said have a great cruise and off we went to our gate. For security reasons I don’t think I should mention any TSA officer’s name, plus I can’t remember it.
    We pulled our carryons to the top of the escalator and headed over to the coffee shop for a cup of high test and a bran muffin. While standing in line I noticed a young lady carrying a sleeping bag. She had just arrived from Diego Garcia, an island just below the equator south of India. In 1998 I made a trip there. We talked for awhile and she informed me the place was hopping, I knew that was a sure sign of war. The war in Afghanistan started on the last cruise maybe we would attack Iraq during this one.
    We drank our coffee and ate our muffins and headed for the security gate. We went though and I set off the alarm. The guard asked me if I was wearing Rockports and I said yes. He informed me that they have steel shanks in them and would need to be X-rayed. Okay. I took them off, he wanded me down, I put my shoes back on and we continued. Southwest has open seating. You board in groups A, B, C. We were in B. We were called and headed down the jet way and onto the plane. Half the passengers were kids under the age of six. At least it seemed that way. Everyone was headed to Disney World. We were the only ones going on to Fort Lauderdale. It was one noisy flight. Plus there was a little boy kicking the back of Diane’s seat all the way down and a boy in front of her bouncing her tray. After one good kick to Diane’s back, I was sure she was going to climb over the seat and slap the boy’s mother. (The mother was fast asleep) Fortunately I was able to restrain her. Needless to say we were both glad to land in Orlando.
    We sat around for awhile and I read my book “The Lovely Bones”. It’s the story of a girl who is brutally murdered and goes to Heaven and observes her family and her Father’s attempts to solve her murder. It is a very strange and at the same time wonderful book. Diane was reading Nora Roberts “Honest Illusions”.
    On the way to the gate Diane complained about her new Reeboks that I had bought her. One of our pre cruise rituals is to buy new sneaks. I bought hers for her this time and I was careful to get the right size, but somehow one shoe was way too large and tightening the lasses did not seem to help. There was nothing we could do about it at the moment.
    We finally boarded the plan for Fort Lauderdale and about forty minutes later found ourselves making a big wide turn to the left on our final approach. I noticed a lot of large homes on small lots next to what looked like swamps to me. I guess that must be waterfront property.
    We finally landed and made our way off the plane and down to baggage claim. We waited no time at all. My two bags were the first ones to come out together and Diane’s followed about a minute later. Two bags together how often does that happen? We strapped everything together and headed our baggage train out the door marked ground transportation and found the Tri-County Express counter. There we ordered a car for 45 dollars for up to five passengers. The driver looked at all our luggage and wanted to know where everybody else was. I told him it was just the two of us. He shook his head and started to load up. One suitcase had to ride up front with him. We informed him that we were headed for the Wyndham Hotel on Collins in Miami Beach. He knew exactly where to go. Our driver was from Spain and complained that Florida weather was too hot. He was in the country on a long visit with his grandmother who had recently lost her husband. He was looking forward to heading back to the Spanish Coast. On the way we passed another car stopped on the side on the road next to a police car. The taxi seemed to be bursting with luggage. I don’t know why it was stopped, maybe it was overloaded.
    We arrived at the Wyndham in about twenty minutes I guess. The valets immediately grabbed our bags and hauled them upstairs to the very beautiful lobby. I paid the driver with a c note, which he broke and then I tipped him.
    We entered the hotel, and liked it right away. We were supposed to be in the Eden Roc but remodeling forced RCC to move us to the Wyndham. I did not mind at all. I checked in and then Joe, the bellhop, loaded our bags on a cart and took us up to room 1222. Not 1234 but close. Joe has been a bell hop at the Wyndham for thirty years. He showed us the room, it was very pleasant with its sea blue and green checked bedspreads and blue and white vertical stripped curtains. He told us about the restaurants, and said he would be available when we left for our cruise on Sunday. He is a very nice man. I tipped him, shut the door, turned down the AC and headed for the window. On the left was the beach, beautiful blue water just beyond a huge twin towered condo. On the right was downtown Miami. I could see a Carnival ship, an NCL ship and a Royal Caribbean Ship. It was now about 12:00 noon. I started to relax. I looked at Diane; she moved over and put her arms around me. I said I think that I am hungry. She said, let’s see if the mattress is any good and then lunch. I said that sounds like a plan.
    Derrick
    Next
    Part II
    South Beach, Swatches, Kids, and Embarkation
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