It’s a quiet Tuesday and I got soaked running in the rain. It felt great though to be drenched in something other than sweat. Only one other runner passed by along with a few of the regular walkers. When I got home, I spread some more “stolen” mulch, as the HOA continues to tempt me with a couple of skids that they don’t apparently have immediate use for in the neighborhood. Normally, in order to avoid theft, they bring it in when they need it, otherwise it mysteriously disappears. Many of us are still disappointed that they initially spread such a thin layer around our landscaping and therefore feel entitled to self remedy the situation. Guilty!
Our pool umbrella arrived, giving us now a little bit of shade in the shallow end. Most of our decorative items for the lanai area are still in the garage from our last trip. Since we’ll be gone again in a few weeks, we haven’t bothered to put them back in place in the event of a hurricane. The area around the pool is pretty barren with company coming this weekend, so I would expect that a few items like chairs and cushions will be put back in place only to be once moved back into dry storage once they leave. We head North to Alaska in only 18 days.
I’m always glad to have a quiet day at home now that the running and swimming duties are done. It will be a Hulu kind of day between watching Sons of Anarchy and Legacy on that streaming service. My wife and I are being nickeled and dimed by the very medium that supported our careers. There was a certain sense of pride in selling the advertising that allowed viewers to watch TV, despite the annoyance they felt. Now I’m paying Xfinity for cable services, along with Netflix, Prime Video, Paramount, HBO, Peacock, AMC, Apple, and Hulu. I think that it’s ironic when at least 15% of my monthly television pension goes to what was once my competition. In retirement, I’m now a TV junkie, glued to it hours every day – guilty!
This past week has been filled with joyous occasions, including my 71st birthday, the engagement of a good friend, a long overdue Santana/EWF concert, and a good report from the eye doctor on my wife’s retina concerns. We also got back to basics today with both “Matinee Monday” and “Meatless Monday.” The peanut butter sandwiches for lunch and cheese pizza for dinner were great, but the movie called “The Invitation” turned out to be a bad vampire flick. I might end the day with some more mulch stealing.
My wife has a neighborhood girls get together tomorrow, while the Borrego Boyz are getting back together for a “Leadership Luncheon” next week now that there’s a break in summer travel. I, of course, will not be available for next month’s meeting because we’ll be in Alaska/Hawaii. Nonetheless, familiarity has returned to our lives here in our resort community called Islandwalk. My son, grandson, and I went to Buffalo Wild Wings yesterday afternoon after getting back from Tampa for the annual NFL Fantasy Draft, and the grand daughters will join us for dinner at the house tomorrow night. Togetherness with family, friends, and travel have always been our primary goal in life.
Finance discussions are on hold because of all the travel expenses we’re shelling out for the cruise and Kauai. It’s what we thought would be the final hurrah for our retirement funds with the exception of Egypt/London next year. However, when Viking was forced to cancel two legs of our Alaska excursion (Russia and then Japan), they offered a major bonus to prevent us from cancelling. It’s an opportunity for another future ocean cruise and we’re looking at Spain to Africa to South America in 2024. After that, we’ll probably have to focus on Marriott Vacation Resorts to satisfy our travel bugs as retirement savings quickly disappear.
It all makes me think that we probably should have waited a few more years to retire, but I’m not sure I would give up what we’ve experienced these past six years. At the age of 71, my energy levels are falling as fast as my retirement funds and by seventy-five I think I’ll be ready to stick close to home. I’ll have seen all fifty states by then and covered at least Five of the Seven Continents. Australia was cancelled due to Covid and neither of us have a desire to see Antarctica. Under the circumstances, I’d be happy with Five!
Birthday celebration #71 has passed and the concert that seemingly never was to be finally happened. The empty parking lot we pulled up to last year 365 days too early was muddy and packed. A heavy rain was falling and we were going to be late. Fortunately, we had VIP Parking and found a front row spot. A double rainbow filled the sky as we waited to get through the security gates. By the time we got to our seats, barely covered by the canvas roof, Earth, Wind, and Fire took the stage, an hour past the scheduled start. It was at last time to “Boogie Down.”
The night air was muggy and the rain gushed one more time. We raised an umbrella as graceless old-timers tried to dance in front of us. As usual, the seats were only as good as the people around us, but we could clearly see the distant stage if we stood. The showers lingered and our clothes were damp but the band played on – familiar tunes that sounded great despite only 3 original band members.
Before the show, we went to the Seminole Hard Rock Casino, packed on a Saturday afternoon. I hoped to hit a birthday jackpot, but the only luck we had was getting a great table in the Council Oaks Steak and Seafood lounge despite my failure to make reservations. Birthday Luck, even after the poker machine losses. Plus, dinner took longer than expected, cutting my expected losses in half. A Win!
As I looked back on dinner and drank my “Liquid Death” water in the seats awaiting Santana, I savored for just a minute my life’s good fortune. Santana was, of course magical, entertaining us until just before midnight and finishing with “Smooth” as we made our way back to the car. I was anticipating at least an hour of bumper car action getting out, but 10 minutes later I was back at the Marriott Town Suites singing “it’s a hot one” in my Birthday Suit.
Another candle on the cake means the likelihood of a fire. I’ve got the extinguisher ready. Today we head for Tampa and another attempt to party with Carlos Santana and Earth, Wind, & Fire. Last year, if you’ll remember, we drove to the concert gate only to be told we were a year early. Instead, we went to the casino without a lucky outcome, thinking that another year was a long time to wait. Suddenly, it’s here and the only threat is rain.
Another day of life, of course, is a win, but I can’t say that I’ve been very lucky of late when it comes to money or sports. IU soccer lost last night to Clemson, while the Cubs and White Sox are almost a joke. Now, it’s time for football season where the Hoosiers are picked once again to finish near the bottom. The slot machines have not been kind to me either, even though I go out of my way to avoid them. I’m prepared to lose my birthday money tonight, thinking that there’s always a chance for a jackpot.
We’ve been lucky on our car travels, driving thousands of miles cross-country these past few years without delays, accidents, or mechanical problems. I’m thankful for that. However, cancellations have twice thwarted plans for spring training, along with delays like tonight’s Santana concert. Fire ruined our plans for Tahoe last fall, coupled with Covid cancellations for St. Kitts, Bali and Kauai with Marriott and three Viking cruises. Plans have changed several times on our upcoming Alaska, and we’ve hoping there won’t be other issues.
We’ve been lucky with health, family, and friends, so I can’t complain too much. However, I would like to hear the sound of coins falling in the slot machine tonight and feel the euphoria of being a winner. It hasn’t happened for a long time, so I feel like I’m due after investing thousands in these machines. Let’s hear it for a long overdue birthday jackpot!
Our departure package from Viking Ocean Cruises arrived today, just another step in getting to Alaska – 25 days to go. “North to Alaska,” our rally cry. Luggage tags and instructions came in the mail, with the challenge of packing for one of the coldest and warmest states in our nation – Alaska to Hawaii. Alaska is a first for us, but we’ve both been to Hawaii many times, although never by boat. We’ll see all the islands from a different perspective. Excursions have yet to be set, considering the elimination of Japan and the addition of Hawaii.
I have a list of items we need at Ace Hardware and a haircut appointment before I pick up my grandson from school this afternoon. I will be another quiet day without Date Night since we’re headed to Tampa tomorrow for my 71st birthday celebration. We’ll drop Tally off at Schnauzerville, have dinner at the Seminole Hard Rock Casino, lose a few bucks in the slot machines, and head for the Santana/Earth, Wind, & Fire concert. I need to be back first thing on Sunday morning for the Fantasy draft at Buffalo Wild Wings.
My cousin, and two former workmates are celebrating birthdays on the same day as mine. I’m by far the oldest, as Birthday Bear joins the party. At least, many of the band members are now in their mid-seventies but still going strong. I guess you could say that today is Birthday Eve!
Somewhere in the very back of my mind is a movie and a song “North to Alaska” by Johnny Horton, written in 1960. I was only 9-years old and his voice was very distinctive so it must have made an impression. He also did “Sink the Bismarck” another memorable ballad of my childhood. Horton actually died in an automobile accident in November of 1960 shortly after the song was released, according to my Wikipedia source. The movie starred John Wayne and Fabian.
“Way up North (North to Alaska)
Way up North (North to Alaska)
North to Alaska, we go North, the rush is on
North to Alaska, we go North, the rush is on”
“Big Sam left Seattle in the year of ’92
With George Pratt, his partner, and brother Billy too
They crossed the Yukon River and found the Bonanza gold
Below that old white mountain, just a little South-East of Nome
Sam crossed the Majestic mountains to the valleys far below
He talked to his team of Huskies as he mushed on through the snow
With the Northern lights a-runnin’ wild in the Land of the Midnight Sun
Yes, Sam McCord was a mighty man in the year of ’91”
“Where the river is windin’, big nuggets they’re findin’
North to Alaska, go North, the rush is on”
“Way up North (North to Alaska)
Way up North (North to Alaska)
North to Alaska, we go North, the rush is on
North to Alaska, we go North, the rush is on”
“George turned to Sam with his gold in his hand
Said, “Sam, you’re lookin’ at a lonely, lonely man
I’d trade all the gold that’s buried in this land
For one small band of gold to place on sweet little Jenny’s hand
‘Cause a man needs a woman to love him all the time
Remember, Sam, a true love is so hard to find
I’d build for my Jenny, a honeymoon home
Below that old white mountain, just a little South-East of Nome”
“Where the river is windin’, big nuggets they’re findin’
North to Alaska, go north, the rush is on
North to Alaska, go north, the rush is on”
“Way up North (North to Alaska)
Way up North (North to Alaska)
Way up North (North to Alaska)
Way up North (North to Alaska)”
Source: Musixmatch
Songwriters: Russell Faith / Peter De Angelis / Robert P. Marcucci
North to Alaska lyrics © Mca Music Publishing, A.d.o. Universal S, Tcf Music Publishing Inc
As I was thinking about our upcoming trip to Alaska, this song came to mind – probably one of the first tributes to the 49th state that became part of the Union in 1959 along with Hawaii. Other musical salutes included “Road to Alaska” by the Bee Gees, “Alaska and Me” by John Denver, and “Home to Alaska” by Lee Greenwood, along with movies like “Into the Wild,” “Mystery, Alaska,” “The Edge,” and “Balto.” Yes, we’re soon headed “North to Alaska.”
The week is flying by now that we’ve back in a routine. We did go see the movie, Bullet Train, yesterday afternoon and had the kids over for dinner last night. This morning is my first chiropractor session in nearly a month. I’m surprised that after 4,000 miles of driving and 13 different beds that I haven’t experienced any recent problems with my back. I was a bit sluggish this morning on my run but my new shoes got me through.
I was able to file for my Florida homestead exemption yesterday, a surprisingly simple on-line procedure. I had visions of having to go to the office in Sarasota, and that may happen yet. Nonetheless, I got through the first step and will wait for further instructions. My big project for today is to figure out why the low pressure indicator is flashing in my car. The only tire I haven’t checked is the spare and I will do that on the way to the chiropractor. I continue to make small repairs on my car, but we’ve decided that at some point we’re going to try to operate with just one vehicle. At some point, we’ll sell the Solara. My wife hopes there will be a golf cart in our future.
Ham salad sandwiches for lunch. My wife is off to tap, while I’ve had enough of the heat. It saps my strength, especially after another run without shade. We’re exactly 3 weeks from our next big adventure. We’ll be on a plane to Portland followed by Alaska and Hawaii. I was able to get our vaccination records in the VeriFLY app required for the Viking Cruise. Within 72 hours of departure, I also need to register us in the ArriveCAN app to expedite the Canadian border crossing into Vancouver where we’ll board the ship. Part of that process involves two separate Covid tests that will ultimately allow passage. All aboard!
I spent yesterday afternoon swimming with my granddaughter. We never did get to a movie, so maybe that will happen today? I did put down 3 more bags of “stolen” mulch this morning after my run. Then, it was back in the water. Tomorrow, I go back to the chiropractor, but surprisingly didn’t have any issues during the long drive. I’ll continue to practice prevention. I’m still feeling the effects of a chest cold that has me coughing first thing in the morning and late at night. Recent Covid tests have been negative but it’s definitely some kind of respiratory infection.
Covid could ruin this upcoming trip to Alaska. Any positive test during the border check in Canada or before boarding could send us home. They are not doing as much testing once we get aboard, so there is not the threat of being quarantined below deck as had been the case with other travelers. We’re definitely nervous about this threat to our travel plans and other health issues like Monkey Pox. What me worry? (See Post #514)
I refer to the memorable Alfred Enigma Neuman phrase in Mad Magazine, a staple of my teen years. “Neuman’s famous motto is the intellectually incurious “What, me worry?” This was changed for one issue to ‘Yes, me worry!’ after the Three Mile Island accident in 1979. On the cover of current printings of the paperback The Ides of Mad, as rendered by long-time cover artist Norman Mingo, Neuman is portrayed as a Roman bust with his catch phrase engraved on the base, translated into Dog Latin – Quid, Me Anxius Sum?”
Yes, I’m a worrier, so I could always relate to this character who appears like he doesn’t have a care in the world. I’m certainly not an optimist when it comes to my future. My philosophy is to think about all the things that could go wrong, so they don’t! I call it the power of negative thinking, but my wife finds it annoying. An engineer at work always said, “What could go wrong?” I always found this to be a humorous approach, and saw him as prepared for any problems should they come along. Fortunately, for me, most of the things that I worry about never happen. What, me worry?
It’s another Meatless, Matinee, Monday if it’s not interrupted with babysitting duties. I did get my full run in this morning, spread a few bags of stolen mulch, and finished my swim. It’s also the day I call my sister and the start of House of the Dragon, the Game Of Thrones Prequel. Last night, we watched The Princess, an HBO documentary on Princess Di. I’m all caught up on episodes regarding Colosseum and Alone as of this morning. Yes, daily life has returned to its normal, boring, tempo.
I have one project today – to borrow my son’s shop vac to suck the water and any residue out of the output line of my air conditioning compressor. Neighbors let me know what to do when it comes to maintenance on my house. All the homes in this neighborhood are similar in age, so we compare notes on what needs attention. So far, since my initial warranty has expired, I’ve had to add a UV light to my A/C system and replace an overflow valve. The key is preventing these problems from happening, so I try to keep up on the issues that other nearby home owners are experiencing.
Tomorrow night, the kids will come over for dinner for the first time in several weeks. They are now back in school and rotating from staying with either mom or dad. We try to do our part in helping them maintain a healthy family life, despite the inevitable divorce. My son is experiencing some depression and not getting enough hours in at work. We’re counting down the days until we leave for Alaska, hoping to spend some time with friends and family in Portland. Our first countdown is to my birthday and the Santana/Earth, Wind, & Fire concert in five days!
As an adopted child, I often wonder what life would be like being raised by a different father? In my case, it would have been two extremes. My adopted father was a successful financial executive with an 8 to 5 desk job, who frequently traveled to Switzerland, Italy, and France, as I recall. He worked for Miles Laboratories, manufacturers of Alka-Seltzer and One-A-Day vitamins, among other popular products, at their Elkhart, Indiana headquarters. My mother, also a Indiana University graduate, where they met, stayed home to care for me and my 3-years younger adopted sister.
By contrast, my bio-dad, who was described as “gregarious,” held a factory job since graduating from high school and worked nights, the shift he preferred. He would proudly punch Clock #1 at Cummins Engine in Columbus, Indiana, an honor he was given upon returning from Korea. His wife was kept busy at home raising six children in tiny Scipio, Indiana.
If there truly is a multiverse, as posed in science fiction stories, I can sometimes envision myself living life under these two different circumstances. Maybe more, if you consider that bio-dad probably never knew that I existed and obviously didn’t marry bio-mom. She was the youngest of a large farm family that secreted her to an adoption home to give birth to me. The other possibility in this multiverse is being raised by a single mother in times when this was rare and unacceptable. Fortunately, for me, they chose the adoption route.
I did grow up a Hoosier, living in northern Indiana as opposed to southern. I ended up in a city of about 40,000, at a school with over 1,000 in my high school graduating class, and in neighborhoods with sidewalks. I joke about this because my wife and I looked at a home once near Lebanon, Indiana. My concern was that there were “no sidewalks”- apparently a bit too “country” for my tastes. None of this would have been the case with the rural lifestyle in my multiverse options.
I could have been the oldest of seven children in bio-dad’s household, if his wife to be had been understanding of my circumstances. She was certainly shocked when I showed up in her life as a result of a DNA test, matching one of her daughters. Fortunately, I was conceived over a year before they married in October of 1951, so he was not disloyal to her. I also could have been the oldest of five children conceived by my bio-mom, Edna Faye Banister, through two different men, either of which could have been a step-dad to me. Or, my very presence in Edna’s young life might have discouraged any further relationships on her part, as I fantasize about the multiverse of possibilities.
Regardless, I had the opportunity to spend some time alone with my half-sister when my wife and I visited Tuscaloosa on our recent road trip. She gave me some background on what it was like to be raised by the man that contributed to half of my DNA. I also met her son who found my facial expressions to mimic those of his grandfather, a.k.a. Cecil Ralph Banister.
Working a night shift, Cecil was rarely home, unless asleep, and spent most of his time outdoors and shirtless with a dark tan. He was an exceptional athlete who stood out at 6’2″ tall in high school basketball and excelled at shuffleboard and golf in his later years. He played industrial league sports with Cummins and was extremely competitive. As an example, he taught his grandson to play chess and then proceeded to beat him 285 consecutive times, counting each one, before the poor kid finally beat him.
Grandpa would take him on long nature walks while teaching him to speak Pig Latin. His only son, besides me, died in a motorcycle accident at age 16. Words like “country,” “outdoors,” and “nature” don’t seem to be in my vocabulary. I do enjoy sports but was never much more than an average participant, while my adopted father was short and left-handed, so fundamentals were not easy for him to teach me. At least, I was fast!
Cecil was a professional shuffleboard player, he would win prizes, including liquor bottles that he rarely touched. He once sat all the kids down at the table and had them sample the booze, hoping to discourage them from drinking because of the unpleasant taste. I don’t think it worked!
My adopted father had a bad temper but he was mild-mannered. He never hit me. Cecil, on the other hand, didn’t hesitate to slap the girls and used switches on all the kids. He was not violent with his wife, sticking to hands-on discipline around the house. I only got in one fight in my life and was certainly never encouraged to use my fists. Wrestling practice was as close to combat as I ever got.
Cecil could be a controversial figure. He painted a swastika on his shuffleboard stick and golf balls to identify them as his. It caused a stir in various competitions where he participated. Why not just his initials CRB?
Guns and hunting have never been a part of my life. I could have never fended for myself or protected my family. Cecil was a hunter and owned a gun. He sadly shot himself with it through the eye at age 79. The pain was apparently more than he could stand after surviving the war, by-pass surgery, and the health issues associated with lymphoma.
My adopted father, Burt, bought a sailboat, the closest he ever came to commuting with nature, with the exception of his well-kept lawn and petunias. After the war, he promised himself never to spend another night in a tent. The one time we went camping together, he stayed by the fire all night. Cecil thrived on being outside and hand-built an octagonal cabin on his Creekside, Scipio property with mirrors so he had a 360-degree view of the land and creatures around him. Burt, on the other hand, never owned a tool box. We just used my mom’s!
One of Cecil’s daughters gave me a spoon engraved with USMC on the handle. It was obviously something he took from the Marine’s Mess Hall and is now the only possession of his that I now own. I also have a few pictures, newspaper clippings, and an obituary. I have lots of pictures of the only man I ever called “dad” and all of his “years of service” pins from Miles. The only thing the two of them had in common was a “love” for IU basketball and Bobby Knight, something that I also shared.
