A Family In Crisis

There is a little cloud over our family this Holiday Season, but there is light on the horizon. I took this picture a week ago and it seems very fitting for this entry.

I’ve alluded to some family trouble cropping up in a previous post but did not elaborate. Since one of the main reasons I started this journal is for my 6 year-old Grandson Trenton to read it when he grows up, I thought I’d give a little insight into what is going on. Perhaps in a few years, if he reads this as I hope, he will have a better understanding of the events leading up to Christmas 2005, the first Christmas he will spend without the company of his mother or father.

I don’t like to air my family’s dirty laundry; However, this story may have benefit for some that may be going through similar circumstances. It may also serve to fill in some blanks for Trenton a few years from now when he will be older and more capable of coming to terms with family events.

The story really started two years ago, during the Christmas season on 2003. So, sit back and get comfy and I’ll try and fill you in.

It was in December 2003 when we got a collect long distance call from Paulette’s son Trace. He was calling from the Reno, Nevada County Jail facilities. Trace was 31 years old at that time and was married to Danielle. They had a son, Trenton who was going to turn Five in February.

Trace left home a few weeks shy of graduating from high school. Paulette and I had been dating and were getting pretty serious about each other. He eventually got his GED and was off roaming the country with some friends of his, selling meat off the back of a truck. It turns out that Trace was a natural born salesman and did quite well.

We heard from Trace very sporadically through the years, but he seemed to be doing well, although he had a problem with drugs that would rear its ugly head from time to time. We did get to see him once and meet his wife and our Grandchild on a visit to Upstate New York near Watertown when we went to visit Paulette’s father.

The story is that Trace was in jail that December, 2003 for spousal abuse. The side we heard was that Danielle’s sister had gotten mad at Trace during an argument and called the police in Reno, where they were all living at the time, and told them Trace had hit Danielle. Danielle told the arresting policemen that Trace had not hit her, but, upon further questioning, let it slip that Trace had pushed her during an argument and so off Trace went to jail.

Trace got out of jail right around Christmas day or a couple of days afterwards and we made arrangements for the three of them to come here to Georgia to get a new start on life. At first things went well.

Both Trace and Danielle got jobs and moved into their own rental house. They made attempts to pay off some of the money they had to borrow to get moved in and other necessities. But things were not as smooth as they could have been. Danielle was having problems at her work place and so was Trace. Trace changed jobs several times, Danielle changed jobs once, then gave up. She hasn’t worked a day in over six months now.

The drug problems crept back into Trace and Danielle’s life and plunged the lives of Paulette, Aunt Sandy, who lives with us, and me into a vortex of lies, broken promises and heartbreak. Paulette would not give up on them, bless her heart, but it has taken its toll on our finances and put a strain on the entire family. The stress that Paulette has been under is criminal, considering her heart condition that her son is very much aware of. It has all come to a head recently as Paulette and I refused to enable their lifestyle any longer and cut off all financial assistance.

Trace claims he is clean of the drugs, though no strong case can be made there, but Danielle is still out of control. They both need professional help. Trace refuses to acknowledge the need to enter a program.

They are about to be evicted and have no income whatsoever. Trace has been in touch with a friend in the meat business who is going to send him a ticket to fly to California so that Trace can work for his company. Danielle’s father, also in California, is sending her money to fly home and has enrolled her in a thirty-day program for the drug problem. Trace is separating from Danielle, although not legally. They will divorce if she does not complete the drug program, he claims.

We have gotten papers notarized giving us temporary custody of Trenton. We will keep him clothed, fed, and safe until his parents can get their act together, no matter how long it may take. We have the difficult job of making this little boy’s Christmas a happy one in spite of the fact that his parents will be across the nation and not beside the tree with him on Christmas morning.

This has all come to a head this week and may explain to some of my journal buddies why they don’t see my comments in their journals right now. I have my hands full here and my time online is a tenth of what it was before all this came to a boil.

We have some terrific gifts for the little guy to find under the tree. Some items he has wanted for two years now. We will make sure that a few of his presents have tags saying they came from his parents, too. We want him to know they love him and miss him. I will be spending a lot of time with Trenton this holiday season trying to keep him doing little boy things and not dwelling on adult problems.

This dialogue today is not meant as a rant, and I don’t want to be carping about our family problems. I did want to let my extended family know some of what we are facing here. I also want Trenton, years from now, to read this story as I wrote it during the actual time frame that it happened and not from the faulty memory of an aging or biased Grandfather.

Our Christmas will be as happy as we can possibly make it for Trenton. I seek not your sympathy here, but your understanding that we are a family in crisis and we cope, one day at a time.

I wish you all a very happy holiday season, and a very merry Christmas!

A Close Call

"Mayday! Mayday! Mayday!" It was Wednesday, a week before Thanksgiving, and I had just arrived at work after having Monday and Tuesday off. I had checked the gas pumps and retrieved the daily printout from our fuel tank monitoring station. The voice on the radio was shrill and high pitched. I first thought the voice sounded like a child playing on the radio.

I hurried into my dock shack to hear this on the big radio. I was sure the Coast Guard would come on and tell the kid to quit playing on the radio.

"Vessel hailing Mayday, this is the United States Coast Guard, Section Tybee, do you copy?" I thought, "Gee! Are they are taking this child seriously, or giving him enough rope to hang himself?"

"Mayday! Mayday! Mayday! This is the "Dauphina!" We are taking on water, possibly sinking! The bridge just closed right on top of us. U. S. Guard, Mayday!"

A chill went up my spine almost causing my hair to stand on end! This was no child, but an obviously hysterical lady shouting into the microphone.

This is every boater's nightmare who operates a boat tall enough to need draw bridges to open for safe passage. There is a drawbridge just south of our area and also one just to the north of us. This boat had tried to go through the drawbridge to the north of us as it headed south, coming towards us.

I settled onto my stool and turned up the volume. I was compelled to listen as this played out.

"Coast Guard! This is the 'Dauphina,' we were heading south under the bridge and it closed right on top of our mast! Our cockpit was pushed completely under water and we are taking on water! We need help!"

Coast Guard Tybee: "Yes ma'am! I understand the bridge came down on top of you and you are taking on water. What is your current position, ma'am and how many people are on board?"

Dauphina: "We are at the Causton Bluff bridge and are taking on water! The engine quit and we are trying to get our bilge pumps on and to get clear of the bridge. There are two adults on board. The bridge tender closed the bridge on us!"

Coast Guard Tybee: "Delphina, I understand you are taking on water and there are two adults on board. Ma'am at this time, I'd like you toput on your PFD's (life preservers) if you haven't put them on yet."

Dauphina: "Coast Guard I understand. Yes, we are putting our life vests on now. Our situation is stabilizing, the water is being pumped out and my husband just threw out an anchor. There seems to be a lot of damage, our engine quit."

Coast Guard Tybee: "Dauphina, this is Coast Guard Tybee. Ma'am, I understand you have thrown out your anchor. Please give me your current position."

Dauphina: "Coast Guard Tybee, we are right at the bridge and, hold on, here comes my husband. He can update you on our situation." (Voice of husband) "Coast Guard, our pumps seem to have cleared our cockpit of water, we seem to be stabilized now and I can't see any more water coming in. We need to be towed to a facility to assess our damage and get the boat out of the water. Please send a tow boat as fast as possible."

To make a long story short, (this dialogue went on for over forty-five minutes), The Dauphina was a sailboat heading south on the Intra Coastal Waterway. It had approached the bridge right behind another sailboat. The first sailboat hailed the bridge on the VHF radio and requested an opening for passage through the bridge. The Drawbridge operator complied and the Delphina followed the first boat through without contacting the bridge operator. The bridge tender, as they are called, must not have noticed the second boat, or grossly misjudged the timing of closing the bridge for a safe passage by both boats.

I did some follow up investigating a couple of days later, as I have friends working at the facility where the boat was eventually hauled out. There was very little damage that actually occurred. The boat is of a type that is built for offshore racing and was strong enough to survive this punishment. I was astounded.

According to my friend, the bridge came down on the top of the mast and literally pushed the boat down into the water. This caused the cockpit to go below the surface of the water and it filled up immediately spilling water down the companionway into the cabin and engine compartment of the boat.

Fast work by the captain of the boat got the pumps on and the water out before complete floatation was lost. No damage to the deck where the mast was stepped occurred and very little damage happened to the rigging.

If you were looking for a holiday miracle, well it's a miracle that no one was injured and that the boat was able to weather such a blow and survive.

I'm proud of the Coast Guard in the way that they handled this event. They had a launch on scene much faster than I had thought possible. They got a commercial towing outfit to respond to the situation and got the main channel to the Intra Coastal Waterway cleared for navigation in what seemed like record time.

I've said it here before, and I'll say it again. Thank God for our boys in blue! You can all be proud of the way the Coast Guard operates in my area, and I'm sure how they operate around the rest of the country as well. Well done, U. S. Coast Guard!

Just a note to explain the lighthouse that now appears in my "About Me" space. Recently, AOL began putting advertising at the top of our journals without any warning whatsoever. Many who have journals on AOL left AOL and set up their journals via different service providers as a way of protest to AOL's actions.

This lighthouse was created by Nightmaremom, (Donna), over at The journal "This That and Hockey." The lighthouse is to represent to our friends who left that we have left a home light burning so that they may find their way back to read and comment in our journals, or to come back and journal here at AOL again.

We will always cherish the friendships we have made in this community and respect the decisions of those who both left and those who stayed. We just wanted to let them know they are welcome back anytime!

The Fall of 1967

It's fall now, even in the Deep South. I lost a bet with a VIVI Award nominee and my payoff, if I lost, would be to write about the strangest or most unique fall I've ever had and to show a picture of me doing a fall activity.

I know, you all want to know what the bet was over. I bet this fine journalist and friend would win a VIVI Award after being nominated in four different categories. The award never came and I'm paying off on my bet. You can check out her excellent journal at this link.

http://ellipsissuddenlycarly.blogspot.com

The most interesting or unique fall I've experienced would have to be the fall of 1967. I had just started my junior year at Hampton High School in Hampton Virginia.

When my father, an officer and pilot in the U.S. Air Force got transferred to Langley Air Force Base in Hampton, Virginia, I had just graduated from the eighth grade in Smyrna, Tennessee. I was popular in school, played trombone in the school band, and loved the house we lived in that was set on one-and-a-half acres near Stuart's Creek. Life was pretty good and I did not want to move.

I knew that I would have to move whether I wanted to or not. My father was a career officer in the military and we moved every three years. It was just a fact of life as I grew up. There was nothing I could do to change it.

When we got the assignment to Langley, I got a map of Virginia and found Hampton on the map. All my doubts about the move vanished when I saw that Hampton was on the Atlantic Coast and surrounded by water. I loved the water and we had a boat. I could already slalom ski better than any adult I had met. This move might be fun after all.

During the school year, the first two years of living in Hampton were hell for me. They wore different clothes than the kids did where I had come from. No one told me about that before the school year started. I stood out like a sore thumb and the kidding and weird looks started immediately. One of the school bullies found me an excellent target and my life that first year could not get any worse.

By the time the fall of 1967 came to pass, I had found my way out of the situation with the bully adjusted my wardrobe, changed from the Junior High School to Hampton High School and was just starting to really fit in. I was in the High School Marching Band and was the first to letter on the Swim Team that year. I had even learned to play the guitar.

I usually dreaded the fall. A new school year with new teachers and weather that just got colder every day for months on end. I hated cold weather! The fall of 1967 was different! I looked forward to the school football games. I liked my classes. I was no longer bothered by bullies or teased by thoughtless kids. I wore my letter sweater with pride!

I had a mad and passionate crush on two of my teachers that year. Nancy Orcutt was my English teacher and I had never met anyone quite like her. She was an attractive blond with a brilliant mind and made her classes interesting to her students daily. My other crush was on my history teacher, a short and stunning brunette, who was fun loving and made her history lessons come alive.

We had just moved onto the base and I had to make new friends with the kids I met in base housing. When we transferred in, base housing was full. What made the difference was that dad got promoted to the rank of full colonel and there was a vacancy in base housing for that grade of rank.

The house we moved into was an older Victorian two story house of red brick with ivy growing up the sides and front. It was on the part of the base that was on the water and I was thrilled. My room was upstairs and I had a dormer style window that I could sit in facing the water while I played my guitar and day dreamed. This house really looked like a building straight off the campus of an ivy-league college. That's the feeling it gave me, anyway!

My sister had already gone off to college. Johns Hopkins University's nursing program is where she was that fall. She lived in Baltimore, Maryland and I felt kind of strange living in a house without her daily presence.

I had a strong crush on her best friend at college whom had come home with her on a previous visit at the old house. I used to sit in that upstairs window seat composing letters and songs to send to Pat Carpenter as I gazed over a beautiful vista of the Back River. Pat was a wonderful person whom I've always regretted losing contact with over the years.

Thanksgiving was the time everything came to a head that year. We knew something was in the wind, we could just feel it. The Air Force usually gave new assignments with promotions at my father's level. We were waiting and worrying.

My mother wanted to go to the Officer's Club for Thanksgiving dinner. There would only be three of us at the table and my father was about to give in to her wishes when he got his new assignment papers.

Dad was to report to Vietnam the following March. He would leave his present assignment in January and report to Washington DC for spy school and counter insurgency training. No, Dad would not be a spy or counterspy. He had to go through the training because men assigned to his command would be doing these jobs. The commander of these units would need to know what these jobs entailed. Notice I said units ... plural. Dad would be the commander of two helicopter outfits, a group of C-124 Caribou aircraft built for short takeoff and landings, and an outfit of C-130's that had Puff The Magic Dragon cannons installed on some and some with The August Moon equipment that could light up an entire battlefield as it flew overhead at night.

I can't tell you anymore about what my father did in Vietnam. Almost everything he did was classified and my father would never discuss classified information. Period. That was the kind of officer he was and one of the reasons, I guess, he rose to such a rank as he did.

Because of his impending departure, Mom decided that we would have a home cooked meal after all for Thanksgiving since Dad would not be with us for at least one full year. Mom was a first rate cook and she surpassed her previous achievements that Thanksgiving. There were some tears being shed as we bowed to give our thanks at the table that year. I didn't know how to act, so I played the brave one, ready to be the man of the house while dad was gone. But I saw the tears and never forgot them.

We started making plans that fall as to what mom and I would do and where we would live while dad was gone. We still owned the house in Tennessee where we used to live and I wanted to return to my old friends. So, we started to get our affairs in order and plan our move back to Tennessee.

The general who lived down the street from us offered to allow me to move in with them for the remainder of the school year so that I could finish my swimming season with the team. His son and I had become friends and it was a very generous offer. I turned it down, though. Losing my father for a year was going to be hard enough on Mom. Jan, my sister, would remain away at school in Baltimore and if I stayed behind Mom would be alone. I chose to move back to Tennessee with her.

As fall turned to winter and Christmas plans and decorations were being made; we all dealt with the impending future in each of our own way. Yes, it was a strange and unique fall that year of 1967 and one that I will never forget.

Dad made it back safely from Vietnam over a year later. The experience changed him and it changed us, as individuals and as a family. We seemed closer when we were all together again and we no longer took anything for granted. We were so very thankful to have him back and to have each other! Oh, and one other thing happened. After his return, Dad and I were never too embarrassed to hug anymore.

As an aside, those of you who read this journal regularly and like to read the comments can gauge my sister's reactions to what I write. She comments using the screen name Ltcjan. She does not have an AOL account so you can't email to that screen name. If anyone ever wants to contact her, send me an Email and I'll send you her Email address. Ltc Stands for Lieutenant Colonel. She may be changing that screen name soon because she is pinning on her Eagles this week. Jan is now a full Colonel in the Army Reserves. Congratulations, Sis!

As you sit down to the table this Thursday on Thanksgiving Day, think about the things you have to be thankful for. I will be giving some very special thanks for having become a part of this community and I will give thanks for all of my friends and family online and off. Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

A Short Break

I know that, once again, it's been too long since my last post. I've answered the inquiring Email saying everything is okay with me, I have just been busy. That is true to a point. I am fine, and everyone in my household is fine, but there has been some trouble with my Stepson. There are some problems he is having to deal with right now. My Grandson Trenton moved in with us yesterday and it may be for a day, a week, or a month. I just don't know right now.

Please know I have not abandoned this journal and bear with me. I have an entry three fourths of the way written that I have not had a chance to finish yet, but will soon, I hope.

As for my thoughts on AOL adding advertising to these journals without our prior knowledge, I have not had time to fully digest that bit of news. I knew the AIM accounts would have an advertising banner across them, AOL said so right up front. To add advertising to regular AOL journals is a surprise.

I really have come to love writing this journal and being a part of this community. I just can't afford the time to really weigh this out right now. So, for the time being, I am here and will stay.

This is my first post since the VIVI Awards presentations which I really enjoyed attending. My heartfelt congratulations to all the winners. The VIVI Awards Committee did a superb job and put in so much work. Thank you!

Now, I may be able to post again in a day or two, or it may be another week or two. I may lose a lot of my readers for being so inconsistent, however, my family is more important right now and they need me. I do promise, though, that I will be back and remain a part of this community for the foreseeable future.

Thanks for bearing with me and I hope to be writing again sooner rather than later.

Vacation Day Two

I’ve gotten a few Emails from my J-land friends and even a phone call from my pal Ken reminding me that I promised to post day two of my vacation over a week ago and still have not done so. My apologies to all and my thanks to those who expressed concern on my behalf.

If you remember, I went to visit my friend Ken in Vero Beach, Florida. I was to stay six days and nights. On the first morning after my arrival Hurricane Wilma was predicted to pass over this area and they were calling for the evacuation of the Florida Keys. We went boating and fishing that first day and would make the decision on what I would do that night after we returned.

I did not want to get caught in the massive traffic jams heading north if a major evacuation was called. I decided I would leave early or ride the storm out with Ken and Joyce. A call home to Paulette settled that issue. I would leave for home on Thursday, giving me one more full day to enjoy before I bugged out.

We had planned on Ken’s dad, Tom, fishing with us that first day but something came up and he was not able to join us. We decided to do a repeat of the previous day’s activities since that was my favorite routine, only this time Ken’s dad would be able to come with us.

I’ve known Tom and the rest of Ken’s family almost as long as I’ve known Ken. I’ve become part of that family through the years and when I talked with one of Ken’s sons over the phone during my visit he still called me Uncle Sam. It was going to be great having Tom along.

Here’s a picture of the bait house where we started our day.

There is a public boat launch across the street, next to what was once The Flagship Marina and Restaurant. The building is still standing but the docks that were once filled to capacity with boats are now just a bunch of pilings thanks to Hurricane Jeanne that swept through this area last year. An ominous reminder of the force of the storm predicted to come this way in just a few short days.

 

As we headed out from the public boat ramp, the sky to the south showed the first hints of the rain bands that would make their way here as a result of Wilma heading this way. These bands were predicted to pass us to the south and we would have fair but partly cloudy weather for the day.

Ken is a director of information and technology for a major manufacturer in Vero Beach. His department would carry the weight of getting all the communications and computing capabilities back up and running in the event of a major storm. The corporation was holding an emergency-planning meeting that morning and Ken would join the meeting from the boat via a conference call using his Blackberry Palm type computer/cell phone. That’s Ken’s dad, Tom, fishing behind him while he’s on the conference call.

As the meeting ended, I caught the first fish of the day and was off to a good start to win almost all categories in our never-ending personal fishing tournament. Even though Ken won yesterday, this would not sit well with my competitive friend.

Then Tom caught an unusual inshore catch, a Scamp. It’s part of the grouper family.

While we fished, an Osprey circled overhead for the longest time fishing the same area we were. He was there so long I was able to snap this picture. Ospreys are fish hawks and are excellent at catching fish for their sustenance. They are truly magnificent creatures and I love to watch them any chance I get.

I went on to catch this mangrove snapper, otherwise known as a gray snapper. Another unusual inshore catch to round the day out.

We knocked off fishing and went back to the Wabasso State Park beach where Ken and I swam the day before. I was able to get a picture of the wood storks that live in and around the parking lot there. The birds are interesting to look at and to watch the social behavior within the flock.

After our swim, it was back to Captain Hirams for lunch and some adult beverages. The bartended was kind enough to take this shot of the three of us.

We didn’t have the same bartender as the day before, but she was every bit as friendly and eager to keep those margaritas flowing.

After lunch, we went to explore one of the islands that dot this part of the waterway. I think Tom wants to come back and live like Robinson Carusoe on this one. I don’t blame him; it was really a neat place.

On the backside of the island, a line of trees was still in the same position they landed when Jeanne came through here last year and knocked them down.

The root systems were huge and we enjoyed playing and having pictures taken in them.

Ken reads this journal regularly and he really enjoyed the Horizons game I played a while back. He wanted to do a horizons type picture for this entry so, here is Ken standing at a point on the horizon.

I waded out and handed Ken the camera and he turned the camera back to show you were I was standing to take the horizon shot.

I had a final beer as I waded around and soaked in the ambience and the friendship. I counted my blessing. Even though I would have to cut this trip short, I had more fun and relaxation in those two days than I had had in years. To be back in the company of my best friend and his family was an experience I will have to always remember and I am thankful.

I left the next morning and beat the bumper to bumper traffic that would follow me the next day. Hurricane Wilma passed over this area on Monday instead of Sunday as was originally predicted and hit Vero Beach with sustained winds even more powerful than Jeanne the previous year.

I finally got through to Ken on his Blackberry Tuesday night and learned that the family made it through okay with only minor damage to his house. The company that he works for sustained significant damage and Ken would be working around the clock for many days to come to restore communications and computer networks.

We had those two days and, for a while, we were transported back to a time when we fished every week and explored Islands every weekend.

An Artsy Essay Entry

I will post an entry tomorrow with part two of my vacation. Today I want to take a brief moment to thank those that voted for me in the VIVI Awards nominations. To be nominated for Best New Journal is an honor in itself that I cherish. Thank you, my readers for the vote of confidence. I am awed at the company I am in and, to echo a thought being shared in journals all around J-Land today, just to be nominated is a great honor that I will always have to remember.

I didn’t know if I would be able to entry Judith Heartsong’s Artsy Essay Contest this month. Tonight is the deadline for entering. I believe so strongly in the effort that Judi puts into this contest every month and the spirit with which she holds it. Here is a link to her entry site: http://journals.aol.com/judithheartsong/newbeginning/entries/1595

Like the VIVI Awards, all the entrants in this contest each month are winners for the effort they put out and all of J-Land benefits from the exposure to these great journals and the journalists who write them.

This month the subject for the essay is:

The one thing I would most like you to know about me........

 

Tell us something: a secret, a wish, a thought  or hope, your greatest desire or temptation, or something unique about you in poetry or prose. Tell us what you feel strongly about, something funny or serious..... what you most want us to know about you. Don't just tell us this special something and leave it at that.... we want to know so much more! Help us to feel and know what it is you think and why. There is LOTS of room for creativity here and descriptive language, and engaging writing will earn you points. Thiswriting exercise is about self-expression and communicating clearly so that we can share your feelings for a bit.

And remember as always: Descriptive,Descriptive,Descriptive:):):)

Here is my entry!

My secret wish would be to have been an actor. I started acting very, very young. Not professional, of course, but as a young child of about five or six, I participated in neighborhood shows that my older sister and her friends would put on for our parents on warm summer evenings in Montgomery, Alabama back in the very late fifties.

Remember the old movies where Mickey Roonie and his neighborhood pals would have some deep need to raise some money. They would get together and vote to put on a show and charge for entrance. It was just a coincidence that everyone in his neighborhood sang and danced like a professional, LOL! Something would always happen and Mickey and his pals would insist that the show must go on and they always were a smash hit!

Take away all the professionalism and the entry fees and that was kind of what my neighborhood was like when I was five or six years old. My sister Jan gets most of the credit for staging these summer evenings with her friends. They needed extras to fill in and I would be allowed to join the cast.

Later, as a high school student, I acted in Church plays and had the lead role in my senior class play the year I graduated. At no time during all of this did I think about acting as a vocation. I was more interested in the mechanics of it all and how to produce and direct stage acts and television shows.

I later changed my major in College from Marine Biology to Communications and went into the television production end of things in a big way. My lack of aptitude in higher math helped me with that decision. I was off to a fabulous career behind the scenes and I never looked back. Well, almost never.

I can still remember the thrill as I stepped out on a stage and the spotlight suddenly hit me. The fear of blowing the most important lines of the show and the feelings of love for the audience as they were pulled into the story by my acting and dialogue. How my heart would soar when they laughed at the right time. The rush of adrenaline as they gasped during a dramatic climax to a plot. How the power of my performance would render an entire auditorium so silent that you could hear a pin drop between my words.

I have allowed myself to think from time to time through the years about how it would have turned out if I had chosen to go in front of the camera instead of behind it. I have shared this little wish with no one. It’s just been hanging around in my inner sanctum only to surface privately at very odd times throughout my adult life.

In my private thoughts I can see myself as the Wilford Brimley type making a decent living acting as an aging cowboy or selling senior citizen type stuff on television advertisements for nice size fees that would take me effortlessly through the retirement years. As it is, I’ll probably have to keep working a full time job until the day I drop. Good thing I chose a profession I can enjoy as an older gentleman. I can see me as a Dock Master or marina manager for years to come.

Still yet, every fall, as we progress towards winter, I think about how the winter of my life will end up and I still feel that little tug at my gut. I think about "the what if…" and the "If only I had…"

That’s my secret wish, I wish I had been an actor.

Vacation Day One

I made it back from my vacation in one piece, so I thought I’d share with you some pictures and a few details about the trip. First off I’d like to thank my friend Ken and his wife, Joyce, for being such excellent hosts. I’d rather spend a few days with them than do just about anything in the world. Thanks for making my time with you such a wonderful experience.

Now, what is it with the journalers here in J-Land that attracts major atmospheric disturbances whenever vacation plans are executed? Mrs. Linklater got blown back early from her vacation on The Outer Banks by a major storm that threatened a direct hit and I had to drive home early from South Florida to avoid being trapped in a mass exodus from Hurricane Wilma.

I woke up the first morning of my stay at Kenny’s house to hear that forecast models had now projected Wilma to pass almost directly over Vero Beach, Florida after it made landfall near Ft. Meyers Beach on the west coast of the state. I knew then that I’d probably have to leave early so I’d better enjoy what time I had. Kenny made sure of that. Here’s my story!

This is a picture of Ken’s house just after I’d parked my truck in the driveway. I rang the bell and knocked on the door, but no answer. Maybe they packed up and left when they found I really was coming to see them! Nope, I turned the corner of the house and there was Ken looking just the same as the last time I had seen him about three and a half years ago.

Sitting in the drive was the fishing boat Ken had purchased since my last visit. This boat would serve as the main platform for our entertainment over the next two days and performed its task without flaw.

After catching up with each other about family and mutual friends, we were off to the local Wal Mart to purchase a temporary fishing license for me and to get a few needed supplies for our fishing outing planned for the next morning. In honor of my visit, Kenny pulled out his Pontiac Trans Am for the errand run and actually let me behind the wheel.

I just had to throw this close up shot in. I’d say this car is a nice fit on me, wouldn’t you?

Food was ordered in for that first evening, allowing Joyce, Kenny, and I some time to talk and reminisce about old times. Here’s a shot of my hosts.

The moon was full as we loaded up to depart the next morning and the sky was clear. There was no hint on the horizon of any storm activity at all. I guess what they say about the calm before the storm is true.

The vista that confronted me after I launched the boat just about took my breath away it was so pretty. I had to take a shot of it.

We used the public boat ramp just over the Wabasso Bridge on the Indian River.

After a short stop at a bait house on the water, we headed for our fishing spot for the day. Ken was at the helm and anticipation loomed large.

Ken and I have always had a friendly competition between us when we fish together. We give imaginary awards for all kinds of categories and go way out of our way to try and win each category. These are a few of the categories:

1. First Fish of the Day
2. Biggest Fish of the Day
3. Most Fish of the Day
4. Biggest Keeper of the Day
5. Most Keepers of the Day
6. Biggest inanimate object

This list goes on as we make up new categories along the way. Today, Ken would win the first fish of the day and the biggest keeper of the day with this fish he caught on an artificial lure not five minutes after we started fishing.

It was a while later before I caught my first trout.

To make a long story short, Ken won the tournament for the day hands down. I really didn’t mind getting bested by my best friend, I knew there would be another chance before I left to even up the score.

Around noon we knocked off fishing and headed for what has come to be one of my most favorite beach bar and restaurants that I’ve ever been to. It’s name is Capt. Hiram’s and the food is every bit as good as the fun atmosphere that greets you. Here’s the view as we approached it from the river.

We got the boat beached right in front so that we could keep an eye on it while we dined. I love a place where you can just pull your boat up on the beach to visit.

Ken went in and found us as spot that afforded a good view of the boat and surroundings.

I wondered around with my camera happy with all the unique things I could shoot to show you. Capt. Hiram’s has a formal dining area, if you care for that sort of thing. It also is known as one of the most fun bars to frequent on the local beach scene. The floors of the bar area are sand and most of it is an outdoor establishment. There was a lot of fun put into the décor. Most of the tables are made of old surfboards.

One section is made to look like an excursion boat. Here’s Ken and my self sitting in front of it.

I just had to shoot this boat seating section from another angle to show you how it opens onto the beach.

If you care to spend an entire afternoon or even full days here there are lounge chairs on the beach for your comfort.

The fun starts and ends with the personnel of any establishment and the staff here was no disappointment. Our bartender and waitress for the day was Angie and her infectious laugh and constant smile kept us entertained for hours.

After lunch it was time to find a nice sand beach and do some serious floating and relaxing. We spent a lot of time just lounging in the water and joking around. It was a perfect way to end a perfect day on the water.

As I piloted Ken’s boat back to the launch area, I was reflecting on my friend and our friendship that has spanned the last 27 years.

I don’t know anyone who knows me as well as Ken does and yet he still puts up with me. We seem to have a good time no matter where we are and we always look forward to seeing the other walk through the door. He’s a part of my family, my tribe, if you will.

I’ve invited Ken to write an entry and let me post it for you to read in my journal. Ken reads Docklines… regularly and thinks we have a pretty nice community here in J-Land. He enjoys reading all the comments. He’s not an AOL or AIM member, so he can’t comment himself. I hope he takes me up on my offer.

I’ll leave it here for now at the end of our first day and post again in the next day or two about the rest of the vacation. There’s more pictures to share!

The Gazebo

It’s been too long since I came here to post and I regret my absence. I want to thank those who have emailed me and left comments checking in to see if I was okay. Yes, I’ve been fine, it’s just that I’ve been so busy I have not been able to get into this room long enough to write anything worth putting down here.

We’ve had a brush with a tropical storm since I last wrote in this journal. While it was nothing compared to the aftermath of a hurricane, there was plenty of debris to pick up as there always is after a wind and heavy rain event. While parts of our area experienced some flooding, most of that was to the south of us and only in some isolated communities.

The only casualty at our household was the tent I wrote about in one of my first journal entries. The tent actually had come down once before during a thunderstorm about two weeks after I wrote about it and I had fashioned a PVC frame around it and stretched a tarp over it to protect it from heavy rain. It worked beautifully all summer and the bonus was that the tarp kept some of the intense heat out of the tent as well.

Tropical Storm Tammy thought my earlier efforts were a joke and promptly collapsed the entire structure. I was at work when this occurred. There was probably nothing I could have done to save it anyway except to have taken it down before the storm’s arrival. It had survived some very heavy winds a few times this summer; it was the heavy rains that proved its downfall.

As you may recall from the early post on the tent, it was mainly built to accommodate my sister in law’s cat, Blanca. Blanca had taken to the tent in a big way and very rarely a day passed that he did not go outside in the tent at least two or three times.

Blanca has been begging at the door to go out into his tent every day since the storm passed. I knew I’d have to rebuild, so Monday I put pencil to paper to devise a structure that would stand the kind of wind and rain we had just experienced. Here’s a look at that sketch.

Well, Sketch in hand, I headed off to Home Depot to price out my intended project. After realizing how much it would cost, I went back once more to the store and looked in the Garden department at some of the pre-manufactured structures. I found one that would fit our needs quite nicely and was only a little more money than the one I would have to fashion on my own. I bought it and lugged it home. Now all I had to do was put it together.

Yesterday, the project began after a quick trip to the barbershop. Here’s the cleaned off patio slab and the box with my new Gazebo.

It was hard to imagine that before the day was out this challenge would come to fruition. The best picture I had to work off was a drawing on the side of the box. The pictures in the instructions were nowhere near as good. I was going to be racing the setting sun on this one, I thought, and I turned out to be right.

I got this far before I had to go pick up my Grandson Trenton from school. Today he was coming home with Grandpa because he was going to have dinner with us before we dropped him off at his house. I knew he would want to help and I worried about how much extra time that would add to the construction process.

Well, as it turned out, Trenton was a big help carrying screws and screwdrivers and anything else Grandpa needed him to hold for him. We got this far before sunset.

The light was going to fade fast now so I had to hurry to finish. Here’s a shot with Paulette standing inside the new Gazebo. It was pretty dark by this time and I was lucky to be able to get any image at all, sorry this one is so dark. This will be a nicer area for the cat and the humans, LOL! It’s also a little more pleasing to the eye for the neighbors and should take the wind and rain better. I screwed the legs down into the concrete pad for some extra insurance.

I have some good news to report before I end this entry. I am taking next week off to go visit my friend Kenny in Vero Beach, Florida. Some of you may remember that I had to postpone this trip in the late spring. I’ll be down there for six wonderful days of swimming, fishing, boating and just having a good OLE time with my friend.

Paulette won’t be able to make the trip this time and she will be sorely missed. Kenny and his wife, Joyce are excellent hosts and I’ll fill you all in on my return. Take care, everyone. I may try to post from Kenny’s house, but I don’t want to promise anything. Hey, a vacation is a vacation, right?