Putting the Lid on 2011

I once read an article about life stressors which assigned points for the types of events that occur in your life. So many points for birth, death, wedding, job change or loss, a move, etc. and, of course, the more points you had, the more likely you were to be maxed out with stress. Thirty years ago I managed to accumulate enough points to, theoretically, give me a heart attack. In 1981 I went through a divorce and a new marriage (complete with two stepdaughters), lost two grandparents, moved three times, ended one job and began another in a brand new city, and bought a new house. My health didn’t suffer, so I guess it’s true what one of my stepdaughters tells me, that “that which doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.”

This past year, 2011, was a bookend: I gave up two pets, sold the home I’d lived in the longest ever, went through a major downsize of possessions, moved to a new city and said goodbye to friends I’ve had the longest ever. Thank goodness there were no deaths in the immediate family, although a great-aunt died on Christmas. Thank goodness I’m not looking for a new job too! And, most of all, thank goodness Bill and I were able to celebrate 30 years together and start this adventure in good health!

While visiting my family in Chicago over Christmas my mother dug up the address of the house we lived in here in Jacksonville in 1958-59. Coincidentally, it’s only a couple of miles from our marina, but 50+ years has changed the area dramatically. Back then it was “out in the country”, now it’s part of the city of Jacksonville. We were here because my father’s first congregation after finishing his studies at the seminary was here, an all black church that is still functioning today. We only stayed 18 months because the Klanners didn’t appreciate a white man ministering to black people. It only took a couple of bomb threats before the elders of the congregation regretfully asked us to leave. The family headed south to Miami Beach, to a new start-up church primarily serving nearby military bases. Then in 1962 Fidel Castro decided to posture a bit and my elementary school incorporated missile defense activities into the curriculum. I was never sure how crouching under the desk in my first grade classroom would protect me from a bomb.

Tonight Bill and I observe a tradition we started over 20 years ago when he was a pilot for USAirways: celebrating Christmas together on New Year’s Eve. For many years Bill pulled trips on Christmas, then we spent the holidays first in Phoenix with his mother and then with my family in Chicago, so it was just a postponement of our own gift giving.

So as we unwrap packages tonight and ring in the new year, we’ll package up the memories of 2011 and put a lid on it! May 2012 be bright and beautiful for you, and may you know the love and saving grace of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ!

To Us

I’ve been looking at life through my mother-in-law’s eyes lately. I hear her voice in my head exclaim, “Oh, isn’t that elegant!” and I remember her unfeigned delight at the littlest of refinements. A carafe of water on her bedside table. White linen tablecloths and matching napkins. Nibbles, as she called them, enjoyed with a pre-dinner glass of wine. Her favorite toast was simple: To us!

Catharine was especially insistent that anniversaries be commemorated with an elegant dinner. For nearly 10 years after my father-in-law died she would arrive in Pittsburgh for the Christmas holiday a few days before our anniversary. We always celebrated it with her, the three of us dining atop Pittsburgh’s Mount Washington, or in the Strip District, or at a cozy suburban restaurant. Our 20^th anniversary was the last one she spent with us. Travel was difficult that year 2001 and the post-holiday flight back to Sun City was the last she would take. A painful bout of shingles followed by a broken hip and a fall ensured that we would have to go to her for the next several Christmases, arriving well after our anniversary date.

Today her son and I celebrated 30 years of marriage, enjoying dinner at a new-to-us restaurant in a new city. Although it was not “white tablecloth” – in fact, there was no tablecloth – we were grateful to be in a position where we could afford a meal out.

I inherited a lot of elegant things from my mother-in-law, some of them surrendered this summer at garage sales, most of them in storage for who knows how long. There’s not a lot of room here on the Pure Grace for elegant stuff, and although boats and glass don’t mix well, I do insist on serving that pre-dinner drink in a real wine glass. To us, Catharine!

It Shall Be So

The Christmas season officially began on Saturday, December 3 at 8 p.m. Although we start Christmas shopping on the day after Thanksgiving because that’s a box that needs to be checked as soon as possible, the season really doesn’t start until we’ve taken in a performance of Handel’s Messiah.

In years past, the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra and the Mendelssohn Choir would perform this beloved oratorio not until the third weekend in December. Oh, sure, we put the tree up a week prior and I decorated the house, sent out cards, baked cookies (back when I was actually interested in doing that), but in my heart, it wasn’t Christmas until I heard the Hallelujah Chorus. There were many years in the past 30 that Messiah was not performed at Heinz Hall, so we made do with recordings…but it just wasn’t the same.

So yesterday I purchased five dozen homemade Christmas cookies at a local church cookie walk, we put up a small tree and affixed a wreath to the bow window, and then we got dressed up and headed the five miles into downtown Jacksonville for the performance. We had perfect seats, eleven rows from the stage, right in the center. Not quite close enough to see the mezzo-soprano’s tonsils when she sang the recitatives from Luke 2, but close enough to watch the very expressive faces of the Jacksonville Symphony Chorus.

We found that we were seated next to the symphony’s development director, whose husband soft pedaled a subscription to the 2012 Masterworks series of performances. We do plan to take in another concert this spring, courtesy of two vouchers in return for bringing a toy for The Salvation Army’s Angel Tree Toy Drive.

I loved every part of Messiah, but my favorite is the final Amen Chorus, and not because it’s the end of the performance! Christmas has begun. It shall be so!

Thanks Giving Wherever You Are

Thanksgiving has not been a traditional family affair for Bill and me during most of our married life. On our very first Thanksgiving together he proposed to me in a seafood restaurant, having hidden the ring in a basket of rolls. We had just moved to Pittsburgh and our families lived in Chicago and Phoenix. Then over the next three decades we often celebrated the day with friends, at their homes or at ours. Our second Thanksgiving in Pittsburgh saw a nice gathering of my Mellon Bank co-workers at our first home; I think there were eight at that table.

One year we flew to Phoenix to celebrate the Thanksgiving Day 80th birthdays of my father-in-law and his twin sister; the flight was delayed so it was close to 10 p.m. before we could join Bill’s family at a restaurant in Scottsdale. Another very sad year we were in Chicago having held vigil at my father’s hospital bedside for four days when we got the 4 a.m. call on Thanksgiving morning that he died. Coincidentally, my paternal grandfather had also died that time of year; he had a fatal heart attack the day after Thanksgiving.

Some years when it was just the two of us Bill prepared the turkey and dressing; when it was my responsibility I bought turkey dinners from Boston Market! There were also many years when Bill was flying for US Airways. Sometimes I was able to get a free seat and spend it with him in another city; when I couldn’t manage to do that, I enjoyed Thanksgiving with our good friends the Kellys.

This year, our first Thanksgiving in our new hometown, we began it rather more traditionally by attending a Thanksgiving Day worship service at one of the two Lutheran churches we’ve visited. Very few churches in the Pittsburgh area would have the service on Thursday morning, opting to hold it the evening before, so this was a nice change. Later we took a 4+ mile roundtrip walk to a small community’s Main Street and peered into all the storefront windows. As Bill noted to another couple doing the same, “This is the best way to shop!” Later, we drove into south Jacksonville for a traditional turkey dinner at The Chart House, at a table with a river view.

 
So, even though Madison Avenue tries very hard to have you believe that it’s just not Thanksgiving unless you have braved weather and incredible flight delays to get home halfway across the country, don’t believe it! Thanksgiving is what’s in your heart and what comes out of your lips, whether you’re alone or crowded around the family table. Be thankful in all circumstance and above all, be a blessing to others.

So Much for the Scenic Route

After nearly three weeks of hard work getting Pure Grace back into shape, Bill announced this morning that we were going to take the day off and explore our nation’s oldest city, St. Augustine. Although the 39-degree temperature this morning may have had something to do with his desire to postpone tackling another bit of re-assembly work, I think he was also eager to see the campus of the Florida School for the Deaf and Blind.

We took Route A1A south from Jacksonville, with the Intercoastal Waterway on our right and the Atlantic Ocean on our left. However, except for one or two brief glimpses of the ocean, both views east and west were well blocked by barriers of local scrubby trees and bushes or house after house after house. It was only a 45-minute ride to St. Augustine and the day turned out to be sunny with a little breeze. We walked through historic Old Town, checking out the Old Colonial Day exhibits, the oldest wooden schoolhouse in America, and St. Photios, a Greek Orthodox national shrine dedicated to the first colony of Greek people who came to America in 1768.

A tanner's shop and home in the Old Colonial exhibit.

The altar at St. Photios, the Greek Orthodox shrine.



We also walked along the oldest street in the country, Aviles Street, narrow, cobble-stoned and lined with old buildings and homes. Since Bill isn't much of a tourist-type shopper we left those for another time when friends and family visit next spring.

After lunch at an Irish pub (well, I did have a blackened mahi mahi sandwich) we toured Castillo de San Marcos, the oldest masonry fort in the U.S. constructed in 1672, where we watched a cannon firing out over Matanzas Bay before heading home.

It was a good day to be away from the marina as we discovered a Yamaha boat engine “open house” was taking place on our dock when we got back. And yes, Bill couldn't resist working up on the fly bridge some more, motivated no doubt by the lack of antenna and resulting erratic cable television feeds.

Home Sweet Berth

Pure Grace arrived in Jacksonville on Friday morning, October 28th. This photo shows her in the sling getting a bath after coming off the truck. Next she was put up on jackstands in the boatyard and we spent the weekend sanding the hull and putting on two coats of a special brackish water barrier paint. I was mostly Bill's go-fer and I did a lot of running around Jacksonville, learning where the closest Home Depot, West Marine and Napa Auto stores are...not to mention Chick-Fil-A for lunches!

Bill was totally blue from head to toe on Saturday from the sanding so on Sunday I plopped a plastic shower cap on his head and he tried to be careful with the paint roller. Even so, we had to use some nasty paint remover on his head and face to keep him from looking like a member of the Blue Men cast.

This was the view from the starboard side in our temporary slip on Wednesday night. The winds were so strong that day neither Bill nor our dockmaster wanted to attempt bringing Pure Grace into her own berth. We listened to the fenders rubbing up against the boat most of the night, but that sure beat the racket we listened to every night from our extended-stay hotel. I was so glad we could get out of there a night early!

The next morning I slipped outside in my bathrobe with camera in hand to capture the first of beautiful sunrises here. The river was much calmer; there was actually some guy in a small boat cruising at 7 a.m. Around 9 o'clock we moved Pure Grace into slip B49. The angle of our slip is such that anyone coming down the dock gets a wonderful view right into the pilot house, where I have set up my office.

This is my view from the pilot house down the dock looking toward the security gate. The slips on either side are empty right now so we're not cheek-to-cheek with other boaters. That building in the background is a 16-unit condo, minimum price well over $1 million. It was originally part of the marina but the 2007-2008 recession put a halt to buyers so the marina was sold off and is doing well on its own. I can't wait to use the pool!

Most of the boats here are sailboats; this is the view from our aft end. So pretty! And below is the city of Jacksonville in the distance, just 6 miles or so away.

This weekend the Blue Angels are putting on an air show so we've watched them practice high-speed fly-bys right overhead. Our marina is hosting a three-day party so we have guest boaters here for the weekend. So nice of them to throw a welcome party for us, ha ha! I'm excited to meet the permanent residents at the pizza party tonight.

It's Always Something!

IAS: Act One

“It’s always something!” Bill said the morning of our departure. While he was inside the convenience store paying for gas someone sideswiped his car and left the driver side mirror dangling. As some of you may know, earlier this year the right side of Bill’s Ford Focus was ripped open like a sardine can when an 18-wheeler decided that “bigger” meant the right to be a road bully. “Get out the duct tape again, honey!”

IAS: Act Two

The entry into the well is not for the faint at heart. Since marina help managed to scrap the side of Pure Grace last fall when pulling her into dry dock for the season, Bill decided to drive her into the well himself. We left the fenders hanging to provide cushion against the concrete, however, against my protestations, the marina help pulled them off, citing the possibility of getting them tangled in the lift straps. Cr-u-nch! Here we go again! That little mishap was good for $350 off the $800 lift fee but we’ll have to replace a couple feet of stainless steel trim.

Bill takes Pure Grace over to the well for the lift out.

The point of impact going into the well.

On the travel lift.

Being lowered onto the flatbed. The young man in front is the travel lift operator,

which is maneuvered remotely.

It took six men to lift the fly bridge wall down to the main deck.

IAS: Act Three

Barely a few miles from the marina it happened. As I followed Bill and the 8-foot U-Haul south on Route 28 toward downtown I saw a woman in a Honda CRV merge from the left into Bill’s lane. As he jerked to the right the U-Haul started to swing and hit the jersey barrier. Unbelievably, the woman kept going so I hit the gas and followed her, honking and screaming “Pull over!” Even as I drove along side her, she was oblivious and kept going. Some guy in a pickup truck in front of me saw what was going on and moved in front of her, slowing down until we boxed her in. By the time I got to her my adrenaline was up and, ashamed to say, I gave her a tongue-lashing (although, curse-word free) until she was in tears. Bill finally caught up to us about the time I had my arm around her shoulder and was apologizing over her apologies. Luckily Bill’s car escaped further damage but there was a little bit on the already road-worn U-Haul.

We finally left Pittsburgh during rush hour and only made it as far as Beckley, WV by 9:30 p.m. (about 250 miles). Wednesday evening we stopped in Savannah and will be in Jacksonville sometime Thursday morning, with Pure Grace arriving on Friday morning.

So Long, Farewell, Auf Wiedersehen, Goodbye!

So, after blogging about this move since March, departure day is almost upon us. The farewell parties are over, the boat is being dismantled little by little and my dreams about my cat Ocie are increasing. Yes, there’s where the five stages of grief are occurring…missing my furry friend tremendously!

It’s said that you never really know who your friends are until you die, but I think a major move like ours is also revealing. The goodbyes started in late May with a neighborhood farewell party; we’d lived in the Village of Bradfordwoods for 16 years but there’s been a lot of movement in that community in recent years. When we moved in it was a community of mostly retirees but in the past five or so years there have been more than a few young couples with small children moving in, changing the dynamics of the neighborhood.

Next up was a couple of farewell lunches from the two churches where we have been most active the past 18 years: Ascension Lutheran Church on Peebles Road and Trinity Church of the Deaf in Wilkinsburg. Both of those congregations were family to us and the goodbyes were hard. We both appreciated the opportunity to serve our Lord in those congregations and now we look forward to where He will place us next. Bill, of course, is eager to find a church that has quality organ music and a good choir!

Our places of employment also acknowledged our imminent departure. Bill’s co-workers at Goodwill of Southwestern Pennsylvania held a small lunch for us at Del’s, an Italian family restaurant in Bloomfield, acknowledging his 7+ years there. Communefx, where I’ve worked for 23 years (coincidentally having started there this very same week in 1988), hosted a happy hour at Uno’s in Cranberry Township this past week. While any excuse for a company-sponsored party is welcomed, I was touched that more than a few of my co-workers were sad that I would not physically be in the office for the majority of the time.

I do plan to return to Pittsburgh monthly and already have my tickets reserved for December. Although I am as prepared as possible technologically, including video-conferencing, I am already missing the 40-minute morning commute listening to K-LOVE and being in the office on a daily basis. But the associates for whom I am directly responsible are also the most senior in longevity with the company; they are well positioned to be supervised virtually!

I was also touched that one of my clients came to the office farewell and one of my local vendors stopped by on Friday with a gift. I’ve known both for nearly 25 years...such good people! Love you all!

Readin', 'Ritin', 'Rithmatic and, Oh Yeah, Droid!

The skills that were taught and learned in schools just two generations ago were oh, so much more basic. You learned your ABCs, how to write in cursive and how to put two and two together. Then sometime in the 1970s the curriculum started to change. Hooked on Phonics replaced Dick and Jane. Now that lessons in cursive have been dumped in favor of keyboarding instructions, perhaps we’ll see more Xs in place of the handwritten signature! As for basic math, if you’ve ever waited for a cashier to figure out your change when the register doesn’t do it for her, you have to wonder how many checkbooks go unbalanced or worse yet, overdrawn.

Now I’m the first to admit that I’m a perfectionist bordering on obsessive compulsiveness about good old fashioned grammar, including punctuation and spelling. Text messaging makes me twitch. Instant messages that lack capital letters are bad enough and getting an email typed in all capitals makes me want to scream out loud. I try to be forgiving when I see Facebook posts and tweets that don’t meet my standards, but it’s a little harder to extend full grace to business emails that are peppered with misspellings.

Enter the Droid. Earlier this week I posted on Facebook that I was nervous about upgrading from a simple clamshell-style cell phone to a smartphone when I bought the just-released Motorola Bionic. Now that I’ve tried texting for the first time I realize just how hard it is to be letter-perfect. I spend more time backspacing than keystroking! So to all of my social media contacts, I hereby offer a public apology for the less than generous thoughts I’ve had about your written language skills!

The smartphone is a necessary evil in order to successfully work virtually from Jacksonville. I need the mobile hotspot to connect my laptop to the Internet and thus to my company. I need to be more accessible (yeah, more than my normal 10 hours a day) to prove to company management that working remotely will indeed work. And so it goes.

Since Bill and I both acquired these new toys, er, tools, this past week, we’ve made five trips back to the Verizon Wireless store and have called customer support at least that many times. We may not be techno-savvy nor are we helpless idiots, but in this burgeoning love-hate relationship with Droid, we are definitely not feelin’ the love!

The young (very young) woman in the Verizon Wireless store was patient and kind as she helped us transition email accounts and learn more than the so-called online user’s guide offered. If we lived closer to our 2-year-old grandson, I’m sure he would have this figured out in five minutes! Our son-in-law Steven recently posted that as Susan left for work one morning our 5-year-old grandson Brogan said, “Goodbye, Mommy!” while Griffin yelled, “Bye, iPad!” Huh!

I’ll get the hang of it soon, so bear with me when your phone calls go to voice mail while I figure out how to unlock the phone! Droid!

Of This and That

Goodwill – My husband’s had an interesting career at Goodwill of Southwestern Pennsylvania. When he started there seven years ago he was a teacher of deaf adults, helping them acquire basic educational skills in pursuit of gainful employment. After the Commonwealth cut the funds for the educational program Bill took a position of employment specialist, actively working with Pittsburgh companies and deaf adults to find good job opportunities. Although the vast majority of his deaf clients have other physical and/or mental health issues, sometimes the only disability is the inability to hear, or in a couple of cases, neither to hear nor see.

One of his most successful placements was for a deaf and blind man in his fifties from England; the man’s wife was deaf also but they had a hearing son. Bill was able to find him a job in a machine factory assembling anti-static components that fit inside engines. Charles became the machinists’ union’s first deaf/blind member in the Pittsburgh area.

Part of Bill’s job is to work with the deaf clients at their new jobs until he’s helped them and their managers establish come type of communication process. Most of time he also learns their jobs in order to teach them how to do it. He’s been a dishwasher in a corporate cafeteria, a grocery stock clerk quite a few times, a janitor in the county courthouse, a busboy at a mall food court, a food preparer at the local community coller, a waiter at one casino and a cleaner at another, a data entry clerk at several corporations downtown and a truck driver! It will be interesting to see what his resume will look like when he starts to look for employment in Jacksonville.

Weather – Today is a beautiful fall day in Pittsburgh and there are quite a few boats out on the river. For whatever reason, no one seems to be in a hurry and are placidly cruising by. The dragon boats were out practicing this morning and a kayaker just paddled by. But it’s been a rather wet summer and I never use to think much about the inconvenience of rain until most mornings when I trudge to my car through a shower. Integral garages are on my list of things I miss! We’ve also been watching the Jacksonville weather and it seems to not get the wind and rain of the hurricanes very often. I hope that when we begin our two-day drive south at the end of October we won’t run into bad weather; Bill will be towing a small U-Haul behind his Focus.

Wine – I’ve never been a fan of hard liquor or beer, but I do appreciate a good wine. Until we started boating six years ago, though, I drank maybe one glass a week. For some reason, though it’s said that boating and drinking don’t mix…they really do! At least when we’re sitting out on the dock enjoying a nice evening. Bill made a very nice wooden wine rack that sits neatly under the entertainment center in the salon, and it holds five bottles. Currently it holds several from a local winery called Winfield Winery, not too far from Concordia Lutheran Ministries, where Bill is on the board of directors. I think it’s time for a glass!

On Feet and Grace

You see a lot of feet during the summer time. Very few are model-quality flawless and most reflect either a tortured life of being stuffed into shoes that are not “foot-shaped” or of exposure to hot sand, hard pavement and everything inbetween.

Recently I was accosted in the dairy aisle of our local grocery store by a man who admired my toenail polish. First we did the cart dance, trying to maneuver past each other and then he said: That’s a beautiful color on your toes. What is it? Me: (Duh.) Red. Him: Oh, no, I think it has some orange in it. Me: (Let me outta here!) Um, no, just red.

I thought that was the last of it but as I was unloading my bagged groceries he came by with his cartful and paused: Have you ever considered wearing a toe ring? Me: (This guy really has a foot fetish.) Um, no. Him: Well, you should. You have beautiful feet. In fact, you’re a very beautiful woman. Me: (Oh, puh-leeze.) Um, thank you. Have a nice day.

As you can see, my feet are rather average, nothing to write about (except that I am!), however that whole exchange started me thinking about feet. Body massages are nice, but give me a foot massage any day! There’s just something about having my feet pummeled, rubbed and yes, tickled, that feels oh so good.

[Short digression: Head massages come in a close second. Last week I impulsively splurged on a good haircut and color at a local Philip Pelusi salon – a shout out to Galena at the Waterworks salon – and when the color was rinsed, the stylist gave me a wonderful head massage. I hoped it would never end!]

Back to feet…Bill and I have been trying to walk more this summer and when we do, I make sure to wear my orthotics (shoe inserts that even up my hips). But having worn sandals most of the summer (i.e., no orthotics), a recent walk was extremely painful as the pressure points on my feet had changed because my hips were out of alignment. Now a new pair of shoes is cruelly and painfully pinching at my toes; I actually padded barefoot around the office one afternoon!

All this to explain why I’m falling short of the servant request to “take my feet and let them be swift and beautiful for Thee.”¹ No speed, no beauty here! I am thankful that I have two functioning feet when so many of our U.S. troops have returned home without one or both, when so many people in Third World countries have lost their feet to parasites or land mines, when those whose jobs require them to be on their feet for long hours can barely walk at the end of their shift.

Jesus showed us how to serve each other and how to lead with humbleness when he washed the feet of his disciples. Peter – always Peter! – protested when it was his turn (Lord, are you going to wash my feet?) but soon asked to be cleansed all over. Jesus’ example and words tell us to do as He has done for us and in doing so receive the blessing of pure grace.²

¹ From an 1874 hymn, “Take My Life and Let It Be”, written by Frances Havergal.

² John 13:1-17

Rainy (Labor) Day Musings

I’ve been taking a lot of nature photos lately. Mostly sunrises and sunsets and storms. I wonder what it is that draws the soul to water, wind and sky? Following are three sunrises, three sunsets and three storms taken throughout the course of the summer. Sometimes it's just being in the right place at the right time for one lucky shot; sometimes it's taking shot after shot after shot!

When Bill and I told friends and family over 30 years ago that we were moving to Pittsburgh (from St. Louis) we heard a lot of negative comments. Pittsburgh still had its smoky, smoggy reputation from the first half of the century but it was totally unjustified. When we moved here in late 1981 there were no steel mills operating within the city limits and many of the mills were being torn down for shopping malls and amusement complexes. In fact, during the 1980s Pittsburgh went through its Second Renaissance and even now is in what many are saying is its Third Renaissance. Look how the North Shore has changed in just the past decade: new stadiums for the Steelers and the Pirates; new headquarters for Del Monte Foods and Alcoa; and the park at the Point is undergoing a major renovation!

Pittsburgh has been named Most Livable City in the U.S. several times. Its housing values remained fairly steady and reasonable and unemployment is a few percentage points lower than the national average. Pittsburgh was successful in transforming itself from a manufacturing-based city to one of technology, health care and education services. I did just hear on Good Morning, America that Pittsburgh is the third worst city when it comes to fashion, but really, who cares? The majority of its residents have jobs and affordable housing!

So now that we’re moving south we hear concerns about heat, humidity and hurricanes. All valid, but I guess it’s what you get used to. There really isn’t a spot in the country where you don’t encounter some type of weather or weather-related problem. From earthquakes, tornados and floods in the Midwest, hurricanes in the South, blizzards in both the Northeast and the Midwest, constant rain in the upper Northwest, to drought and fires in the West and Southwest…where but in the Garden of Eden would you not encounter nature’s reminders that we are not the masters of the universe?

“He [God]draws up the drops of water,
   which distill as rain to the streams;
the clouds pour down their moisture
   and abundant showers fall on mankind.
Who can understand how he spreads out the clouds,
   how he thunders from his pavilion?
See how he scatters his lightning about him,
   bathing the depths of the sea.
This is the way he governs the nations
   and provides food in abundance.
He fills his hands with lightning
   and commands it to strike its mark.
His thunder announces the coming storm;
   even the cattle make known its approach."

Of Spiders and New Friends

Most cooler mornings as I walk from Pure Grace down the dock to my Jeep I gather a cobweb or two from here and there. Not intentionally, but they are strung like silly string from one light stanchion across the dock to another. The webs coat my arms and legs, and yes, even my face, like a fine veil. Thankfully, I haven't yet found the webs' owners clinging to my clothes after I've made it through the gauntlet.

Last weekend was the annual Marina Day celebration at Fox Chapel Yacht Club. Although the weatherman was predicting a major storm right about the time the buffet line was to open, the threat held off until early the next morning. So it turned out to be a fine, fun day with a lot of activities, a treasure hunt for the children, a climbing wall, a Chinese auction to benefit the Humane Society, who turned out with two pit bull puppies, a kitten, a rabbit and a beagle-Sharpei mix (it was much prettier than it sounds), and all the beer one could drink (not for me, thanks!). I did consider adopting the beagle mix but Bill would've had a heart attack.

There was an unofficial competition of sorts on Marina Day. In fact, just about every weekend you'll see Bill and our neighbor Dave washing their boats, so most of the other boaters on the dock are very glad we're down the line at the end of the fresh water supply, thereby not causing a reduction in their water pressure!

Each of the 11 docks is responsible for contributing three things to make Marina Day successful: a dessert (cupcakes, cookies or brownies -- H Dock was assigned brownies this year); a basket for the Chinese auction (ours was a tribute to Jimmy Buffet, complete with lots of booze), and a "dock drink". Visitors to each dock are given a small glass (or two) of the drink and encourage to mingle with other boaters. I guess if you managed to drink your way from A Dock all the way down to K Dock without falling into the river that would be a good thing. Our dock drink was called Sweet Breeze but don't ask me how many liquors it contained; the only thing I contributed was the measuring cup to mix it up! My favorite dock drink came from I Dock; they cored large strawberries, filled them with Bailey's Irish Cream and topped them with whipped cream. Yum!

The Esprit de Mer is a newcomer to our dock this year; in fact we have six new boats and that means more new friends! Pittsburgh being the small town that it is, I've found some connections to mutual friends and acquaintances. While we were chatting with this crowd, I managed to focus my eyes at the right time to see a spider shoot a strand from one person across another and latch onto a third person, who thought the spider had dropped out of nowhere. Perhaps it was my morning companion!

The Little Engine That Could

The guests at my niece Kelly Avicola’s baby shower were asked to bring a book for her baby boy – a favorite book from childhood or one that had special meaning. My favorite was A Child’s Garden of Verses by Robert Louis Stevenson, and Barnes & Noble actually had a copy of it, but I thought it was a bit heavy for a baby. Another childhood favorite was The Little Engine That Could by Watty Piper (a pseudonym for Arnold Munk, a Chicago publisher), so that’s the one I chose for Baby Boy Avicola.

The Little Engine That Could was originally penned in 1906, making it more than a century old but still enthralling children, teaching them the value of optimism (I think I can, I think I can) and hard work (life can be an uphill battle at times).

You probably know where I’m going with this. The Bible is filled with Scripture about hope and hard work. Depending on the version you’re reading, there are nearly 200 verses that include the word hope. Two of my favorite are Jeremiah 29:11 “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” and I Peter 3:15 “Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have.”

For verses on hard work, there’s nothing like the book of Proverbs! From reference to the industrious ant who gathers food in the summer to store for the winter, to admonitions about lazy hands and sluggishness, to the rewards of the work of one’s hands, there is no lack of encouragement to strive like the Little Engine.

If you’ve read my profile, you also know that my guiding verse is one that gives God the glory for anything I am able to accomplish – including writing my blogs! Philippians 4:13 is a verse of both hope and hard work. I get my optimism and place my hope in the One who gives me the strength (physically, mentally, spiritually) to do all the things that He has planned for me. Jesus did the hard work. I believe it. I trust it.

I don’t “think I can” – I know He did!

Food Diary

Dining is half the fun of traveling, at least for me. I do enjoy learning about the history of the place, but to get a real sense of the “local color” as my father used to say, there’s nothing like rubbing elbows with the natives or, if you choose a tourist hot spot, getting to know the wait staff.

On our recent trip south, our first dinner was on Jacksonville Beach at Joe’s Crab Shack. Yeah, I know it’s a chain, it’s a tourist focus, but we had avoided the one here in Pittsburgh (where’s the sand?) and thought it was time to see what it was all about. Plus it was right on the beach. We chose to sit outside, although at first it was rather windy it did calm down. The place was packed on a Wednesday evening but our drinks came fast and the waitress took our order promptly. And then we waited. And waited. Anne, our waiter, was nearly in tears as she apologized for the lost order; it was over an hour before we got our food. Jeremy, the manager, was good enough to take half off the food bill and give us free dessert. I chose Key Lime pie, because I really like the tartness and it was a favorite of my father’s.

Before we met our realtor on Thursday morning we had breakfast at The Fox Restaurant in Avondale, a kitschy diner that has a huge local fan club. I’m told that some mornings the line is out the door but we were lucky that morning. The staff was all heavily tattooed, including the waitresses, and everyone was very friendly. The realtor’s office was down the street one block so when we came back early afternoon she treated us to lunch at The Brick, across the street from The Fox. That was a nice, trendy, empty restaurant, with some interesting paintings on the walls. For dinner that evening, we walked across the Main Street Bridge (a blue bridge built in 1941 and quite the sight at night) to Jacksonville Landing and ate at The American Café. There was a concert in the square by a local band that had a following of motorcyclists … yes, it was loud.

Friday morning before we headed to Savannah, we walked back across the blue bridge and had breakfast at the Landing again, at The Village Bread Company, then perused a small artists’ market set up right outside but found nothing I couldn’t live without. We left Jacksonville well after noon and headed north on I-95, stopping in Brunswick, GA at an interesting combination of a ‘50s style Denny’s with a bowling alley and video arcade. It wasn’t the cleanest restaurant I’ve eaten at, and that seems to be true of Denny’s in most places. I’d stop eating there but they have the best breakfasts, especially the cheesy scrambled eggs, of any place I’ve been.

After walking around downtown Savannah along River Street we decided to drive east to Tybee Island and find a place to eat on the beach. We happened on Marlin Monroe’s Surfside Grill, tucked behind a high-rise hotel, but it was so incredibly windy with a storm moving in that we chose to eat inside. A trio was performing, two guitarists and a singer, and our waiter was an engaging young man, who had spent the winter working on a shrimp boat.

Saturday evening, after an incredibly long day of looking at townhouses, condos and marinas, we decided to walk back down to River Street and eat at River House Seafood, in a very old building. One of the drink specialties was some type of plantation punch that had every kind of liquor you can think of plus champagne; we both passed on that! Our waiter was from East Liverpool, OH and had graduated from one of Pittsburgh’s cooking schools. She wanted to start her own catering business in Savannah and talked her mother into moving down from Ohio.

Since we were staying at a Hampton Inn in the Historic District, we had a quick, light breakfast there on Sunday. The breakfast area was a zoo as there were three large groups all eating and departing at the same time that morning: a family reunion; a church youth group returning from a mission trip, and a Girl Scout troop. I think we were lucky to get our boxes of Raisin Bran!

After a disappointing morning visiting marinas, we went back to Tybee Island for lunch at Fannie’s on the Beach, where I think I picked up the chiggers that have been feasting on my ankles and shins all week. Our final meal in Savannah, not that we had planned on it, was at an airport restaurant because our flight was delayed over two hours. I had a pretty darn good chicken quesadilla and Bill had some tasty wings.

 So we may not have found THE city yet, but we had fun visiting and sampling the cuisine!

Savannah: Moon River Land

The back story about Savannah, Georgia is the Back River, a small tributary north of the Savannah River, which in turn is north of the city. Songwriter Johnny Mercer grew up in Savannah, spending his boyhood playing around Savannah’s waters. Enamored of the Back River, or so the story goes, Mercer wrote the song Moon River in its honor, after which the Savannah Chamber of Commerce renamed the Back River in honor of the song.

I found Savannah, established in 1733, a charming small city. It’s less than 75 square miles but packs a lot of homes into the grid that’s composed of the Historical District, the Victorian District and the Thomas Ward District, before branching out into nearby islands and suburbs. Our realtor, a native Savannian, was a wealth of information and we spent part of the morning just touring the city. She is also quite a casual driver, stopping in the middle of the street to point out the birthplace of Juliette Gordon Low, founder of the Girl Scouts, or twice running solidly red lights while talking a mile a minute. I know Bill saw the hair rise on the back of my neck!

We toured homes as old as the 1800s (I could feel my childhood asthma coming on while standing in the middle of a gutted old building) to new resort-style patio homes. While there were two or three possibilities for land-based domiciles, the marinas were a huge disappointment. The Savannah River has no pleasure craft traffic; it’s solely used for tremendously large container ships, all of which seem to have Chinese registrations. The other rivers are brackish water and affected by the ocean tides, leaving eight to ten feet of muck on the shore during low tide. And yes, there are alligators! I saw one sunning itself on the bank of a man-made pond in one of the resort-like developments. Our realtor casually suggested running in a zig-zag as those creatures can’t exactly turn on a dime.

So, housing was a B. I give the marinas a D (most were geared toward fishing recreation and none really legally able to accommodate houseboats). Job opportunities are also a D; the four primary industries are shipping, manufacturing (the Gulfstream business jet corporation calls Savannah home), tourism and education, most of which is through SCAD, the Savannah College of Art and Design. Our realtor suggested that Bill look for a job teaching American Sign Language!

We did have two enjoyable dinners there. On Friday evening we drove out to Tybee Island for dinner at Marlin Monroe’s (yes, their logo is a fish in a dress) and on Saturday we ate in the Historic District at the River House Seafood Restaurant. After dinner Bill talked me into buying a cute little sundress so I surprised him by wearing it out of the store. The clerks were amused but I’m sure they’ve seen it before!

Sunday lunch found us back out at the beach on Tybee Island, where we took a nice long hot walk before heading back to the airport, only to find that our connecting flight to Charlotte was delayed by two and a half hours, putting us home well after midnight.

Oh, by the way, the Back River (aka Moon River) is not wider than a mile!

Jacksonville: Good to the Last Drop

I have some history with Jacksonville, not that I can remember it. When I was a little over two years old my father’s first congregation after graduating from the seminary was to an all black church in Jacksonville. The story goes that the elders of the church took my father on a neighborhood tour of all the bars, dives and pool halls so that the “brothers” would know that the Honky Father was A-OK and not to be messed with. Another family story is that I swapped a white baby doll for a black baby doll with a little girl in the congregation but I don’t remember that at all and we were only in Jacksonville for about a year or two at most.

The city is huge. At about 850 square miles (plus or minus, depending on your source), it’s the largest city by area in the lower 48 states and the 11^th largest in population. There is a lot of diverse industry and businesses so I would give this city an A for potential job opportunities. Maxwell House Coffee is headquartered here, along with CSX, Winn-Dixie Stores, Stein Mart, Huckins Yacht Corporation, the Jacksonville Jaguars, many banks and hospitals, along with the military.

Speaking of the Jaguars, the owners of the team personally bankrolled the renovation of The John Gorrie, a 1930s school building, into a delightful condominium complex and they had just opened it to the market in late June. No two of the 68 units are alike in layout, but all were decorated with the same color palette, cabinetry and appliances. The ceilings had to be 20 feet high and the windows were almost floor to ceiling. All Bill could think about was the cost of draperies! I was most impressed with The John Gorrie, which was situated in the historic Riverside district, along the Ortega River. Since we started with the best, the housing seemed to go down a bit in quality from The John Gorrie, although I would give area housing in general a B+ at this point.

We visited six marinas, some for just a few minutes as it was obvious they did not have the amenities we’re so spoiled with at the Fox Chapel Yacht Club, but there were three we spent a fair amount of time at and feel that the Marina at Ortega Landing is pretty classy. It includes a nearly empty condominium on the property but they ran in excess of $1 million prior to going into bankruptcy! The marina has nice concrete floating docks with built-in waste pump-out (yes, that’s important!), a beautiful small pool and a beautiful clubhouse, including a small laundry facility.

The Ortega River feeds into the St. John’s River which runs through downtown Jacksonville. It’s not terribly affected by the tides, perhaps moving about 18 inches at low tide. Two of the other nearby marinas offer full-service maintenance and fuel so we’ll be able to have the flybridge reassembled and the boat launched should we choose Jacksonville as our final destination. There are no locks and dams on the rivers here, but they do have draw bridges! I guess it doesn't matter whether you're waiting 15 minutes to lock down or pass through, it's all very interesting!

After this whirlwind trip, where we saw more housing than I can keep track of, we are still not decided. There may be another trip in the near future if we can figure out where to find 5-star marinas, affordable quality housing, and a good job market on a river!