I was home all day on Wednesday with my grand daughter. My patience tended to wane in the early afternoon after a morning of unicorn riding in the pool. Tally was no where in sight disturbed by both the inflatable floating unicorn and little girls. My wife watched the little one early while I got my 3.1 mile run in, then took Tally to the dog park. It was a good thing that I was home to meet with the pool cage repairman who showed up unexpectedly. He was over a week early on my warranty schedule, so another appointment is now off the list, along with the painter. Cabinets, plumbing, heat pump, a/c compressor, electrical, and roof tiles remain on the schedule of final repairs after one year of living in our new Florida home.
I don’t envy those that are currently experiencing construction delays and price increases in our neighborhood. Lumber, windows, and doors seem to be the biggest issues. Housing demand in Florida is growing by leaps and bounds. We were fortune to avoid temporary housing, as is the case with many new residents. They wander through the framework of their future home, waiting for finishing work, while hundreds of new starts pop up around them.
I missed the final Spring Training game yesterday, as the regular season starts tomorrow, except in those areas affected by rain and cold weather. I sit here watching animated Daniel Tiger’s Neighborhood episodes (See Post #1790), anticipating the end of my baby sitting commitment. Tomorrow, it will be back to the boring, yet desirable routine.
A full day of watching my grand daughter can only be described as exhausting! She’s so sweet but yet destructive. We spent time together in our pool, the larger resort pool, and the playground to keep her physically busy. Video games and TV were occasionally useful. She wanted to join my wife’s aqua-fit class where the noodles were flying. It was rough water for a going on four-year old. We’ll do it all again tomorrow.
We all started the day about an hour early by prepping for dinner. When my son gets done with jury duty, we’ll grill the pork chops that have been marinating all day in sugar and brine. We also need to hang a chandelier that’s sitting on the floor with delicate crystals that she can’t stay away from despite the warnings. Her name is Nora but I think “Ignora” describes her better. I’ve been a grumpy old man all day, trying to keep her out of trouble.
Basketball started too late last night. Mounting a towel rack also tried my patience. The early start and dramatic variation from the routine is wearing on my tolerance as I truly feel seventy-years old. I never was a good parent even in my prime years. Babysitting is not one of my better qualities, but I knew that moving nearby my grandkids rather than 3,000 miles away would result in some inconvenience and disruption.
I had some big writing days over the weekend, but fell short these past two days. Workmen were here on Monday, infringing on my creative time. Tuesday was an early morning with my granddaughter while my son was stuck on jury duty. We did use our newly renewed Regal Unlimited movie passes to continue the Matinee Monday tradition with the “Lost City,” after an evening of mediocre bands trying to mimic Rolling Stones and CCR tunes. My wife also attended the Chalk Festival at the Venice airport after we enjoyed brunch at a neighbors home. In addition, there was a warm-up, happy hour for the bad band performance. All in all, busy retirement times continue.
We’ve gone to the hardware store two consecutive days and finished a few small projects around the house. We hope to get our remaining overhead lights installed yet this week. A painter did some warranty touch-up work while I watched the fifth episode of Winning Time. I’m also proud to mention that I won my first bracket jackpot by picking Kansas to go all the way.
I gave up my free ticket for the final Braves Spring Training game this week to babysit. The regular season now begins, but the games in our back yard won’t be back until next year. Our next big event at the Neighborhood Stadium is the Memorial Weekend Patriotic Pops concert. I did get in a first this Spring with a ride to the game on a golf cart.
Speaking of golf, it’s Masters week and Tiger may play after all. I’ll be anxious to watch the coverage this weekend. We have two more sets of visitors before we head to Singer Island for our 21st wedding anniversary on April 20th. It’s a far cry from China that we had originally planned before the Covid mess. We were trying to be clever in celebrating this Hallmark China gift occasion but it simply wasn’t to be.
Three poems in one day is probably a record but two of them have been in the works for weeks. I just put the finishing touches on them and submitted them to my blog. I’m not supposed to write about this subject because I was a little vague with my sister about going to meet the cousins or not. At first, I thought that local family matters would interfere with my plans to drive to Bonita Springs. My sister was not included because of health issues and this was disappointing to both of us. We are all connected through my dad’s father, Grandpa J., who passed in 1992, thirty years ago. I am the modern day Grandpa J.
The restaurant was called Traverna in their Vasari golf club subdivision. The sad and embarrassing moment was when I was shocked to discover that my eldest cousin’s husband passed last year. As a result, I had awkwardly put my foot in my mouth. The visit did inspire me to write the poem, “Dozens of Cousins.” (See Post #1993). They all heard the poems that I wrote for my parents’ funerals and asked if I would do one for our long overdue reunion. I’ve complied in short fashion below.
Years ago, the family would gather every year at Simonton Lake in Elkhart or at nearby Oxbow Park. We’d have a picnic and play croquet or catch, as was the tradition. The only pleasant get-togethers in recent years have been the girl’s weekend that this year happened to be by our new Florida home. Two men were actually in attendance this year, while my cousin John was not included, and I crashed the party accompanied by my wife.
By the way, the names may have been changed to protect the innocent – more poetic license.
Cousins Unite
Glad we reunited,
At Traverna this year.
The news was mostly good,
Except that one sad tear.
I crashed the “girls” weekend,
And now I must confess.
Glad Al could join us,
Cause I forgot my dress.
Vasari is beautiful,
And we’re not far away.
Maybe we can do it again,
Some other glorious day.
I think of you all often,
As cousins and friends.
Our Grandpa J. connection,
Will thankfully never end.
Though we have many cousins,
You’ll always be our “favs.”
And I refuse to rhyme this,
With the obvious “graves.”
I miss Simonton days,
And even Oxbow Park.
Sadly, our reunions,
Have been left in the dark.
But the Florida sun,
Brought us together.
While John was stuck,
In Hoosier weather.
Copyright 2022 johnstonwrites.com
I spend a lot of time on Ancestry.com and other DNA sites hoping to find answerers about being a lovable bastard. I’ve built a family tree of nearly 40,000 ancestors, most of whom have unfortunately taken their earthly knowledge to the grave. My initial hope was to find physically-like relatives, thinking this would somehow satisfy my curiosity. I have found and spoken with several understanding half-sisters and now have photographs of my birth father that passed eleven years ago. I am happy to report that there is a common resemblance. The bio-mother and her family remain unresponsive after claims that all this scientific, hospital, and adoption agency evidence that I have is incorrect. Apparently, my birth never happened, so may childhood fantasies of being born to a Queen may still be true. In my poem that I wrote today, this too is an example of poetic license, along with another reference to heaven above:
Dozens of Cousins
We all have a mother,
But I have had two.
One that gave birth,
Another I well knew.
My family adopted,
Without D-N-A..
While others genetic,
Strangers to this day.
Aunts and Uncles,
There were dozens.
And my family tree,
Shows plenty of cousins.
All were related,
But some through genes.
No, not denim,
By scientific means.
I grew up not knowing,
The difference between.
And once fantasized,
I was born to a Queen.
I got plenty of love,
And everything I wanted.
But something was missing,
And so I hunted.
I needed to see,
Physical resemblance.
Thinking that life,
Would then make sense.
But the bio mom,
Now claims who?
And her lover,
Had no clue.
There are pictures,
And siblings, too.
But they won’t replace,
The relatives I knew.
Cousins I grew up with,
And parents full of love.
A sister that I lived with,
And grandparents now above.
Familiarity is everything,
Genes don’t mean a thing.
I’m grateful for my life,
But it started as a fling.
Copyright 2022 johnstonwrites.com
It’s been over a month since I wrote my last poem and that was a recap of our trip to Key West (See Post #1960). I haven’t spoken from the creative heart for some time (See #1934) and that was not of a rhyming nature. Today, I wrote two in an attempt to play catch-up from my goal of one a month. The first will be #258 on this blog under the category of poetry, and it is not to be interpreted as suicidal. In fact, I’m not really convinced their is a heaven, let alone a gate. This is called poetic license.
“Let’s Get This Over With” is a phrase I too often use jokingly with a mutual friend to show my general impatience or discomfort in an unfamiliar setting. I’m definitely not one to smell the roses and consequently miss the beauty of life. Every year on my resolutions, I promise myself to see the beauty in life, but I sadly live too much in a hurry.
The End
Let’s get this over,
Is my first thought.
I’m not sure when,
This notion was taught,
There must be a flaw
In my D-N-A.
That makes me rush,
My life away.
I prefer to look back,
Rarely forward.
To fill all the blanks,
On the scoreboard.
I have no patience,
Can’t wait till the end.
I need to see,
Around every bend.
If life was a book,
I’d read ahead.
I’d scan the last page,
To see what was said.
If instead a movie,
I’d cut to the quick.
Skip to the good parts,
And finish the flick.
Forget slow motion,
It takes too long.
Push fast forward.
And speed life along.
I can’t wait to start,
Now, where’s the conclusion?
Showing restraint,
For me, an Illusion.
I eat just as fast,
Always in a rush.
Never a trickle,
Give me a gush.
I like a short-cut,
To the Checkered flag.
To wait for Christmas,
Was always a drag.
No time to smell roses,
Or savor the flavor.
Get to the punch line,
Do me a favor.
Save all the details,
For someone who cares.
Don’t try to embellish,
Or attempt to split hairs.
I’m in a hurry,
Life is too short.
Give me the answers,
Not a boring report.
All that I want,
Is the FINALE.
Let’s get to the end,
No need to dally.
Get it over with,
I just can’t wait.
Show me what’s next,
At Heaven’s Gate.
Copyright 2022 johnstonwrites.com
A year ago this day was our last in Portland, Oregon with a farewell Chinese dinner at Ling’s Garden downstairs in our apartment building. We have yet to find a Chinese favorite here in Venice. Last night, we tried Burgundy Square downtown and made the short walk to Kilwin’s for pralines & cream ice cream. There was not a concert in the park as expected so we drove home.
Our neighbors are hosting a brunch this morning, but the rest of my day will probably be devoted to basketball. Two IU basketball recruits are playing in the high school nationals, followed by the Final Four from New Orleans. The Duke vs. North Carolina match-up is getting the most publicity with Coach K’s retirement and the fact that country artist, Eric Church, cancelled a concert to attend this historic game. It caused a lot of controversy with fans that don’t understand his allegiance to the Tar Heels, but he did agree to do a freebee as a make-good. If he we truly a basketball fan, he would have scheduled his tour the night of the Final Four, so in my opinion he didn’t have much faith in his team in the first place.
While we were headed for ice cream last night, I spotted a guy in an Indiana t-shirt, so I asked him where he was from. “Vacationing from Fort Wayne,” he indicated, but when I told him that I worked for WMEE Radio there years ago, the conversation abruptly ended. I guess they just wanted to enjoy their ice cream and didn’t really care to reciprocate. So much for Hoosier Hospitality.
The decade of the nineties has arrived, as I then approached 40-years of age. One hundred years before it was known as the “Gay 90’s,” a term that is no longer politically correct. (See Post #1890). “The 1990s is often remembered as a decade of relative peace and prosperity: The Soviet Union fell, ending the decades-long Cold War, and the rise of the Internet ushered in a radical new era of communication, business and entertainment,” according to a description in Wikipedia. However, it was the end of my first marriage that lasted for 27-years. In that timeframe, we had lived in Elkhart, IN; Edwardsburg, MI; Union, MI; Ft. Wayne, IN; and Indianapolis. We also bought a condominium on Siesta Key, FL, near where I live now.
As I look back through the years, it was often a struggle to make ends meet, living above our means. The divorce then cost me the home and condo, as we went our separate ways. As I now live a comfortable retirement life, it all has a happy ending, but everything I worked for fell apart in the 90s. Friendships ended and the only winners were the attorneys. I was running on and off at this time to relieve the stress, but “The Streak” had yet to start. As of this morning, it stands at 4,482 days (13.26 years). I was joined part way through my 3.1 mile route by a neighbor acquaintance who is younger and faster, so I pushed to keep up, or rather he slowed down for my benefit.
I went to another Braves Spring Training game yesterday afternoon against the Tampa Bay Rays. A neighbor provided the tickets and drove me to the game on his golf cart. It was actually quite humorous when he ignored the commands of the police directing traffic, but he had forgotten his hearing aids and honestly didn’t hear. I yelled in his ear during the game, while a mentally challenged young man on my other side made fart noises by blowing on his arm and incessantly repeated the same unintelligible words over and over. It made me realize how lucky I was to have raised a healthy son, while admiring the father’s patience along with his willingness to get his child to a game despite the behavior.
Another month has gone by as the calendar flips over to April. I sent a note to a friend that I hired 32-years ago on April Fool’s Day. It turned out to be a beneficial career move for both of us, as he now nears retirement. A year ago on this day we packed for our move from Portland, Oregon to our new home in Venice Florida, hoping for no pranks along the way. Unfortunately, my wife had to deal with kidney stone surgery in route and our furniture took seven weeks to get here, but we arrived safely and have been happy ever after. As is the tradition, before the day is done, I will also place an annual call to another friend to wish them a Happy April Fool’s Day.
As I conclude the decade of the 80s, I’m about to celebrate my 38th birthday while just having started my career at WISH-TV in Indianapolis. The team of Bush and Quayle were running our country in 1989 and the Exxon Valdez oil spill took place while Theodore Bundy was executed in a Florida electric chair. The year ended with the premiere of The Simpsons on FOX. Up until that point, FOX Television was barely a competitive factor when I was preparing proposals for clients. Cable was also in its infant stages of development. Both of these factors would soon impact the advertising business.
When we first moved to Indianapolis in 1985, the three of us first lived in temporary housing at Pickwick Farms but soon moved to a house in Castleton. After more than three years of sales work at WIBC radio, 1988 marked my move to LIN Television and WISH where I would stay in various positions for 13-years. The company promoted me to both Lafayette and eventually Decatur and sold the station I was running after twenty years of service. Moves to Austin and Portland with would follow as my wife’s career continued to blossom while I struggled into retirement. I had transitioned from newspaper to radio to TV and then back to newspaper and finally radio. TV was the peak of my career, serving various management roles.
I’m now enjoying my retirement from LIN on a generous pension. I got word this morning from a college fraternity brother in Tucson that he had met the guy who eventually replaced me in Decatur following the sale. He had come up through the ranks of Block Communications via their property in Boise who bought the station from LIN and must now be retired in Arizona. I knew him from corporate meetings prior to my termination but haven’t spoken since. The fact that these two long lost acquaintances of mine somehow coincidently met is just another example of how small a world it really is!
I was too busy to post anything yesterday with grandkids to entertain. Suddenly, it’s Wednesday and another episode of The Curse of Oak Island. I will also go to the chiropractor and return a defective propane tank. I did find time to watch Winning Time as well as Bird and Magic: A Courtship of Rivals on HBO once everyone had gone home last night and my wife took a call from her sister. Monday, I had indicated there might not be time for a movie, but my wife’s bridge club was cancelled so we went to see Uncharted before picking my grandson up from school. I’m trying to renew my Regal Unlimited movie passes for another year, but frustrated with the process that isn’t allowing me to speak with someone. You would think they would be doing everything possible to get my business, but in these Covid times it’s hard to get help. I think we were one of five people watching the movie on Monday in a theatre holding hundreds.
We were invited to a driveway party by one of our neighbors after we got home from the movies. It’s one thing after another in the quest to meet everyone and establish new friendships. We’ll hold another “Meet the Neighbors” event in May but in the meantime have a retirement party, brunch, and birthday party scheduled on our block, not to mention dealing with home warranty issues. I’ll be glad to get to Singer Island to rest from all the social obligations in our resort community. It will be good to be just another anonymous neighbor at a Marriott resort and away from all these get-togethers for a couple of weeks.
We continue to make plans for our summer drive to the Grand Hotel, another escape from the neighborhood. I don’t mean to present my home as prison-like with a need to break-out, but it gets to be a bit much familiarizing myself with 2500 neighbors. In the month of March alone, we’ve been invited to a dance-off, card games, spring training games, a book club, pool party, boys lunch, girls dinner, Hoosier dinner, “Meet the Neighbors” event, 2 concerts, a wine tasting, blues festival, eco-tour, dolphin cruise, harp performance, Beauty and the Beast, and several driveway happy hours. It probably would have been more but my wife was out of town for a week, after enjoying a visit from her daughter/spouse, while I had overnight guests for eight straight days. We also made drives to Ft. Myers, Punta Gorda, Bradenton, and Bonita Springs for lunch with friends, plus four stressful back-and-forth trips to the Tampa Airport. This does not include my wife’s daily ventures to the dog park, pickleball reservations, baby sitting, movies, shopping, tap, or aqua fit classes. It’s a very busy and active lifestyle that deserves a break, at least as far as I’m concerned. This is in sharp contrast to our last few months in Portland where everything was closed, we never got together with neighbors, and most of the day was spent in front of the TV. As a result, we’re both fulfilled but exhausted and looking forward to our April Anniversary escape plans.
