I know I’m being a bit too dramatic, but T-minus 48-hours until surgery and all systems are GO. I had a rough spot yesterday dealing with insurance approval, but with an urgency warning from my doctor and an operating room reserved, they at least agreed on a tentative arrangement. I also made my first payment of many to come. I will probably live through the surgery, but the bills may kill me. We had some much-needed rain last night and I drank my last two beers for a while. I.U. basketball often leads me drinking, but in this case at least they won.
My wife enjoyed her night out with a girlfriend at the Cher theater performance up in Sarasota. It will be the last time that she has a free night without worrying about me getting around for months to come. Knowing her, she will be at my bedside day and night, responding to every suspected whimper. I’m hoping she can get back into the classroom soon as a distraction from my recovery. In two months, I’ll be more than ready for our Cross-Atlantic cruise.
Tally will get the stink off of her at Schnauzerville with a bath and grooming, only to pick up more smells interacting with her schnauzer buddies. If all goes well, we all should return home by next weekend. We will not be using the pool, although it will come in handy later in my recovery, so I will continue to delay getting the heater repaired. In three months’ time, when the weather warms up, I will hopefully be doing water aerobics and laps to make up for the absence of running, lifting, and exercising while my chest wound slowly heals.
I will bid temporary farewell to my neighbors tonight at the Borrego Bash. They have all been and will continue to be very supportive throughout this ordeal. Most have already experienced temporary setbacks resulting from medical issues or worse. They all appear to have a deeper sense of religious faith than I do. I’m fully prepared to get this over as quickly as possible, since as they like to say at nearby Kennedy Space Center, “all systems are Go.”
Four days until surgery – four last runs. This morning I did the standard route down Rinella Street that I fondly refer to as “Runella.” I’m seeing all those familiar neighbor faces, many of whom are still nameless. There’s Leo, Johnny, several Mikes, Paula, a few Karens, Kathie, Big Jim, Diane, Steve, Rich, Maddie, and Nick to recall a few. Last names are not so easy. I run by the dog park, pickle ball courts, clubhouse, playground, basketball courts, and home after home. A big green utility box marks the mile mark, and a concrete garden monolith with holes is the half-mile gage. When I stretch it to three miles, a half-way pathway takes me over a Venetian-like canal bridge. I always add on that extra tenth of a mile to accommodate any GPS inaccuracies.
I started watching the Lawman Bass Reeves series on Paramount last night. My interest was a result of a recent Ban(n)ister Family post. My birth name was Jerry Lee Banister. Apparently, Texas Ranger, John Riley Banister (1854-1918), Sheriff of Coleman County, participated in the arrest of legendary outlaw Sam Bass. His brother Will was also a Ranger. I was mistaken in thinking that Bass Reeves (1838-1910) and Sam Bass (1851-1878) had a direct connection, but they lived in the same lawless era. Bass Reeves is believed to have been “The Lone Ranger,” with several key similarities between the radio & TV character and the actual legend.
My wife has the car today, tending to her substitute teaching duties, while our schnauzer Tally misses out on a trip to the dog park. A few of her buddies were there this morning as I ran by and waved. She seems content curled up in my office chair as I write this. Tally will go to Schnauzerville on Sunday, as I make final preparations for Monday’s surgery. Maybe there will be one final “Runella” before this streak finally ends?
It’s Christmas 2023, while fifteen years earlier (December 29, 2008) I was contemplating the start of a running streak that was originally planned for New Year’s Day. We flew into Indy from Austin, drove on icy roads to Elkhart to see my folks and had Christmas dinner at my wife’s sister’s home at Geist. We then traveled to Decatur to check on our unsold house and went to Bloomington to watch I.U. basketball lose in embarrassing fashion to unheralded Lipscomb. These were the days when Christmas was an absolute hassle, trying to spread our time between friends and family in three different states and four or five different cities. The bigger nightmare, however, was finding the Decatur home flooded from a broken pipe. I think I started my running streak a few days early to help deal with the stress of all this. I haven’t missed a Christmas morning jog since, still running away from my problems.
This year’s Christmas was easy. Brunch at a neighbor’s and dinner with family at home. It rained during my morning run, but it was my son who was rushing with the kids from place to place instead of me. It’s, in fact, the very first time that my son, his wife, and the grandkids have been with me in our home on Christmas Day – a monumental occasion! I’ll get to see the look on my five-year-old granddaughter’s face when she beholds the Barbie Dreamhouse that I assembled in our garage.
Earlier today, my wife opened her traditional Limoges box gift, a memory from our visit to King Tut’s tomb. I enclosed the following poem:
These Moments We Share
We’ve seen the world,
And Buddha’s butt.
And visited the tomb,
Of pharaoh King Tut.
Our first might have been,
The Twin Towers on high.
The lights of Times Square,
And fireworks in the sky.
We’ve cruised the Nile,
Stayed in an overwater hut.
And at luxury resorts,
Shaded by the coconut.
We’ve heard prayers in mosques,
Synagogues and Churches.
And stood atop,
Some precarious perches.
Rocamadour comes to mind,
Or a rollercoaster ride.
I’m always much braver.
With you at my side.
Even at sunset,
It’s always proven true.
There is no better view,
Then looking at you.
We’ve been to the Pyramids,
Admired the Sphinx.
Stood in Monet’s Garden.
And by the statue that Thinks.
The Beatles and Big Ben,
Bourbon Street pubs.
Michelin Stars,
Vacation Clubs.
Nantucket to Napa,
Hood to Coast.
Key West to Mackinaw,
All Bucket stops we boast.
Coronado Island,
Caribbean getaways.
Hall of Fame museums,
San Francisco Bay.
Traveled on cruise ships,
Flown in First Class.
Marveled at Glaciers.
And Chihuly glass.
Normandy’s white crosses,
Or atop the Eiffel Tower.
A slow Positano ferry ride,
To fast Hydroplane power.
Castles and Temples,
Too many to mention.
Or Palace Guards,
Standing at attention.
A Maui Luau,
Huatulco waves.
Mountains and Oceans,
Crypts and Caves.
From Route 66,
To the Champs-Elysées.
I sometimes take the wheel,
But you always point the way.
Amsterdam and Rome,
Santorini blue domes.
Overall, in five states,
We’ve owned homes.
Petra and the Dead Sea,
Night Life on the Strip.
Our Bellagio Wedding,
It’s been quite a trip!
Planes, Trains, and Auto,
Ubers, Taxis, and bikes.
Despite my reluctance,
Even cliff-nics and hikes.
Stonehenge seemed tiny,
After all that we’ve done.
And soon we’ll be basking,
In the Mallorca sun.
But the best place of all,
Is in your arms.
Beholding your beauty,
Admiring your charms.
All would be meaningless,
If you weren’t there.
To hold me hand,
In these moments we share.
Christmas 2023
Copyright 2023 johnstonwrites.com
Sorry about all the formatting issues.
I honestly didn’t do much travel in my first marriage, except business trips to Chicago, New York, Atlanta, Philadelphia, and Boston until Marcia’s company arranged award travel to London, Hong Kong/China, Greenbriar, and The Breakers. As we were trying to raise a family, it was too expensive to see the world. However, as we settled into our careers, we were soon anxiously hooked on adventure, and prior to these international excursions, her friend Karen coaxed us for the first time abroad to experience regions like Tuscany and Burgandy. With Oregon friends we tackled Rome and the Amalfi Coast.
Being in the media business and doing promotional work took me to some out-of-the-way places. For example, we organized some day trips for listeners out of Indy to the Bahamas (hot) and Stowe (cold) on ATA. Viewer ski trips took me to Breckenridge two years straight. In addition, our friends Tim & Irene suggested Isla Mujeres for a taste of rural Mexico, and we ventured to Las Vegas many times through the years, especially after our son left home. We did take him there for his birthday one year. I remember visiting some of her distant family in Arkansas and a night at Hot Springs, numerous ski junkets including Big Sky in Montana, touring Washington DC, and staying closer to home with weekends in Ann Arbor, Louisville, Cedar Point, Brown County, and Chicago. We fell in love at Mardi Gras and out of it in Honolulu during our 25th wedding anniversary. As a side note, we did take the sheets and blankets from our hotel room, trying to keep warm while waiting for the sun to rise on Oahu’s Haleakala. I wanted to bike down – she didn’t.
In the second marriage, we were constantly on the fly and dined at many famous chef restaurants. Conventions and business meetings in NYC were common along with frequent dealings in Chicago, Detroit, Cape Cod, Las Vegas, New Orleans, Dallas, Houston, Providence, Buffalo, Boston, Orlando, Los Angeles, Honolulu, Atlanta, the Big Island, and even Dayton. Vacations included Saint Lucia, Napa, San Francisco, Barbados/Jamaica, Dominican Republic, a Carnival cruise to Cozumel, and career moves to TV stations in Austin and Portland, following stints in Lafayette and Central Illinois. European stops were Paris, Rome, Positano, Cannes, Montpelier (where a daughter studied), Sorento, and Capri.
Retirement meant the means of traveling more luxuriously and for longer periods of time. Viking Ocean and River Cruises became the staple with voyages to Normandy, Venice, Croatia, Santorini, Athens, Amsterdam, Vancouver, Alaska, Hawaii, and soon to come, a cross-Atlantic tour of South America, Africa (Casablanca), Gibraltar, and Spain/Mallorca. Marriott Vacation Clubs and Hotels took us to Wailea, Kauai, NYC, Washington D.C., Phoenix, Palm Springs, Tucson, Napa Valley, Las Vegas, Alabama, Orlando, Hilton Head, Cleveland, Nashville, Indianapolis, Austin, Miami Beach, Marco Island, Amelia Island, St. Augustine, Atlanta, The Keys, and many “points” in between. Long drives to Florida, Glacier National Park, Marfa, Walla Walla, and Mackinaw Island’s Grand Hotel, along with Hall of Fame Tours filled in the gaps.
Movies keep us entertained when we’re hungry to get away from it all but don’t have the means or time. I don’t typically like to watch movies for the second time even though I never remember what happened the first time. Of late, travel documentaries have become more important in determining where to go next, plus the thrill of seeing the places on the big screen we’ve been to through the years. It always brings back great memories.
With the world at our fingertips, I think back to childhood when all I knew was the neighborhood around me. We did some family trips to Florida, Yellowstone, the Black Hills, and Upper Michigan, but I had no idea how vast the world was or how much I needed to learn. As I learned to speak, there were odd phrases that I picked up from my parents that were mostly adaptions of “dirty,” profane, or cuss words. My Presbyterian Church upbringing made these words unmentionable, even in private conversation. I’ve since learned to cuss like a champion. They were often words you could switch to after the first syllable came tumbling out of your mouth or silly terms used instead of swearing:
“Go…sh da…rn, Holy Cow, Da…rn it, Pee-pee, Da…ng it, Jee…z, Sh…oot, Cr…ud, Tinkle Dance, Hamburger, He…ck, Fu…dge, Bottom, Cr…ap.
Writing stories like this gives me peace of mind. It’s a reminder of how far I’ve come in life. Like everyone else, my life is unique. It’s rewarding to recap all the places I’ve been and the related experiences. It feels good to get this all on paper before I’m gone someday. Hopefully, the grandkids and their children, if they read this, will see the world through my eyes as I try to recap my childhood, career, marriages, and adventures through these spontaneous trivial tidbits.
