CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND ELEVEN: THE DESERT, THE WEST COAST AND ETERNAL SUMMER IN THE KEYS

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND ELEVEN: THE DESERT, THE WEST COAST AND ETERNAL SUMMER IN THE KEYS

It is January 17, 2014. We have returned from our visits to family in Arizona and friends and neighbors – and our dog, Zorro – in California. I miss Zorro. He had the saddest face I’ve ever seen on a dog, as we left him lying on Brenda and Royal’s floor at 6:15 a.m. on Tuesday the 14^th. I will never forget that face. It’s always hard to leave Zorro, especially after a 12 day visit filled with hikes in the park and warm cuddles in bed and excited greetings every time I came through the gate on to the patio at Calkins/Moore’s home. That dog sure knows how to express his love. Anna says he’s the most complicated dog she has ever known. Complicated? Not sure. But he’s extremely sensitive, and that’s why it’s so hard on him when we leave. I know that he loves his Ruby, the black mixed Lab with whom he lives. And he is very much at home in Harper Canyon, running into Toro (renamed Zorro) Park and herding the new cows who just arrived to graze and procreate with two fecund bulls. I still can’t imagine taking him away from the park lands and ranch lands he loves to roam. Slow Motion is a great home, but not for a Queensland Heeler who needs to run miles every day. I don’t even know if Zorro can swim, although the Admiral says that all dogs can swim. Zorro has a great life in the hills of California, so I have suppressed my selfish desire to have him travel with us. Still, that look….

There is no way I can write about all the highlights of the last month. But here are a few. My sister Sue made all the comfort food I could ever want, especially the Christmas comfort food – holupkies, pirogies, kiffels, apple pie, roast pork and sauer kraut, scrambled eggs and homemade bread toast, crisp bacon, ham and sweet potatoes. The kiffels kept falling off their plate, but fortunately the Admiral was there to catch them before they hit the floor. Oy veh – we both added about five pounds between Christmas and New Years with Sue and Butch.

Sue and I went to Biosphere 2 in Oracle, north of Tucson – what a crazy idea! Eight people entered this hermetically sealed world to grow their own food, make their own energy (sort of) and live independently of the rest of the world. As you may know, they lasted two years (1991-1993), but they kept losing weight until they were all skeletal. The food that they grew was nutritional, but they didn’t grow enough. And they had to work so hard to keep themselves alive that they burned all the calories they ate. Of course, the mentor of the group, Dr. Roy Walford, twice as old as most of the other 7 crew members, believed that human beings needed very few calories to live. And he tested his theory on his starving colleagues. They were hungry all the time in their first year together, but were able to produce a ton more of food (bananas, papayas, sweet potatoes, beets, peanuts, cowpea beans, rice and wheat) the second year and put a little weight back on. Dr. Walford also believed that his low calorie diet prevented all forms of cancer and extended one’s lifespan. All crew members lowered their cholesterol and blood pressure and improved their immune systems. They lost an average of 16% of their body weight. That old/new nemesis, CO2, played havoc with their lives and nearly did them in. The levels of carbon dioxide fluctuated “wildly” (Wikipedia) and killed off most of the good (pollinating) insects, while allowing the cockroaches and ants to thrive.

Footnote on Dr. Walford: He was born in 1924, entered the Biosphere in 1991 at age 67, and died in 2004 of respiratory failure and complications from ALS (Lou Gehrig’s disease) at the age of 79. Did he extend his life with his CRON (Calorie Restriction with Optimal Nutrition) diet? Probably. He was 5 feet, eight inches tall, weighed 134 pounds and had the body of a gymnast (which he was in high school). He had an extremely interesting life, well worth reading more about his exploits and his theories on aging.

The Admiral and I went hiking in Sabino Canyon in Coronado National Forest on a cold morning. Our 5 mile trek was mostly in the shadows, as the sun started to rise and hit the canyon walls to the west of us. It felt good to be in a southwestern environment, surrounded by all kinds of cacti, particularly the majestic saguaro cactus. We were told that there had been recent sightings of mountain lions on this trail, so we were ever vigilant. I’m happy to report that we had no close encounters with any member of the cat family. There were other intrepid hikers, and a few rail-like joggers who shared the “Phone Line” Trail with us. We were in the foothills of the Santa Catalina Mountains. It had rained recently, so we enjoyed the sound of the creek coming down the mountain with us. The trek was moderately difficult, but we were both so out of shape for this activity that we walked around stiff legged for a day or two after. I don’t think we lost any weight on the hike. Even if we did, we returned to my sister’s house, and the kiffels kept falling from the plate into our hands. Thank God we only have access to them at Christmas time.

Sue and Butch experienced a starry, starry night on Mt. Lemmon, courtesy of their children, who know how much Butch enjoys astronomy and taking photos of the stars he sees through his telescope. The Schulman Telescope (32 inches in diameter), the largest in Arizona, sits atop Mt. Lemmon, and a leading astronomer/photographer (Adam Block) made himself available to show the telescope to them, as well as to take Butch through every step of his photography process. It was very cold for them that night – and Sue was prepared, wearing about 6 layers of clothing. It was chilly during the stargazing portion of the evening, but it warmed up considerably for the technical presentation of how to develop the photographs. Butch scored a stunning photo, signed by the astronomer/photographer, of the 4 nebulae of Orion (looks like a trapezoid).

I had a great visit with David and Lisa and their kids, David Kyle, Anastasia, and Nathan. They are adapting well in their return to Arizona from the arctic environs of Schenectady, New York. David has bought Fed Ex routes in a few locations in Arizona, and he is thrilled to be his own boss after too many years of wrangling with the higher ups at Target. I am so happy for him. Now if only he could convince brother Dwight to jump out of the corporate maelstrom and into entrepreneurship, they would be unstoppable, unbeatable and unparalleled in their fraternal success.

I don’t really remember the day between our return to Key Largo the night of December 31^st and my flight to San Francisco on the 2^nd of January. But my memories of the days in California are still vivid. The first big highlight was visiting with Cathy and Rob in Santa Cruz. True, I chose a rotten restaurant, Chocolate, for lunch. How could a name with so much promise be so disappointing? From the dried out quiche, a house specialty, to the runny, fairly tasteless chicken mole sandwich, another so-called specialty, to the incredibly poor service, this place is a dud. Three different waitpersons handled the bill, with three successive trips to the table (1) presenting the bill and taking the card; 2) returning to report that the bill was wrong and they were going to charge more; 3) returning to report that they didn’t take American Express – they had the card for 15 minutes before this idea came to them), and as each one left the table, Cathy removed another dollar from the tip. I mean, come on! If you’re going to serve terrible food, the least you can do is stick to the original bill and take Amex credit cards. Before and after lunch, Cathy, Rob and I explored the Book Shop, an indie book store in downtown Santa Cruz. I scored the Rachel Maddow book, Drift, and Cathy also treated me to another Kingsolver novel. Book stores can make up for a bad restaurant experience, and this one did. It also helped to have street musicians all over the downtown streets of Santa Cruz, playing alone, in duos, trios and small bands. The day was sunny and warm, so we headed to the beach. All the time we were together, Rob was taking photos. Watching him set up a shot, or doing a 360 series of shots, is watching genius at work. He has this Michael Jordan thing going, with his mouth open and tongue to the side, as he zooms in on “The Shot”. Cathy and I always have the best time just walking and talking. We should be writing our 20^th novel about now, but the public is going to have to wait another year or two, until we get disciplined enough to share the creative process.

Every morning while in California, as soon as I moved my little finger, or made any tiny sound, Zorro was at the bedroom door softly whining and scratching – Time for our Walk! The “Walk” was a daily hike of two miles or more, either on the flat path to the water cistern or up the switchbacks to Olassen’s Meadow and down the cliff to the water cistern and home. Most of the time Ruby joined Zorro and me, although at the end of each day she was limping badly, and it looked like there was no way she would be going with us in the morning. Yet, every morning except one she was completely rejuvenated and trotted with her sideways gait (no limp in sight) up the trails with Zorro and me. A rancher from South County recently put some new cows and two new bulls on the grasslands in the park. The bulls, one completely black (Angus) and one completely white (Charolais), have a lot of cows to choose from. It looks like they’re coexisting for the moment. Last June, Zorro and I came across two bulls who were fighting for supremacy. Naturally, Zorro wanted to herd them in the middle of their head-butting. They pretty much ignored him, thank God. This time Zorro herded Angus and Charolais without incident. They obediently got in line with the cows and headed off to the water tank.

Advance now to February 3, the day after the Denver Broncos proved once again that defense wins championships, and lack of defense, well, you know – 43 to 8. And it wasn’t that close. After our idyllic visit in Harper Canyon, we returned to watch the rest of the country dig out of a foot of snow or skate across icy freeways. Here in Key Largo the weather is in the mid to high 70’s. Some days are windy (15 to 25 mph gusts); some aren’t. Sometimes it rains. But usually the sun rises relentlessly at 7 a.m. and beats down on Slow Motion until 5:30 p.m. And almost every day in paradise the Admiral works on constructing a complicated data base for a nonprofit organization in Illinois, while I go off to practice tai chi at the local Lions Club. The tai chi group in Key Largo is big. I can take classes every morning, Monday through Thursday, and on two afternoons, Tuesday and Thursday. Yesterday I got a ride with another tai chi student to Harris Park to do our 108 movements in the sand. We were right on the ocean. There were about 12 of us. The breeze blew in our faces. We moved as one organism. Oh, how I wish that were true! But I’m just learning, so most of my moves are a second or two behind the moves of every other student. The teacher puts me in the middle of the group so that I can be surrounded by people who know what they’re doing and pick up the moves by osmosis. If you haven’t tried tai chi, do yourself a favor: Find a tai chi class near you and get there as soon as you can. For the entire class time, your world becomes tai chi movements – breathing, balancing, turning, moving the lymph around, stretching, bending, and stockpiling pheromones. Oops, I mean, endorphins – actually both.

The Admiral and I got our fishing licenses for Florida renewed, and we plan to rent a small fishing boat and go out on to the ocean in search of some edible, sustainable fish. Last time I went fishing -- $40 for a half day on a commercial boat – I caught two small sharks and a few other fish, like weakfish, that were too small to keep. Our neighbor here at Marina del Mar takes other people fishing and they return with not very much. He always says the fishing is easy, but it’s the catching that eludes him. Same here. The Admiral bought some tasty bait that should attract fish big enough to eat. We’re waiting for a day with winds under 10 mph and waves under 2 feet. Don’t worry, my friend, that day will come. There have been a few days like that so far. And while we wait, I am busy developing my tai chi skills.

When not learning this gentle martial art, I have been reading the books that Cathy bought for me. I finished Prodigal Summer by Kingsolver. She is an amazing naturalist, conservationist and writer. And her characters sweep you into their worlds. The women in her books are not perfect by any means, but the protagonists always have certain admirable qualities, like non-conformity, courage and both a desire and willingness to adapt to whatever tragedies hit their lives. I am now reading Rachel Maddow’s book, Drift, which has so far been a great sleep inducer. It’s not a “snooze”, but the chapter on the “war” against tiny Grenada was, shall I say, challenging to my consciousness. Maddow writes just like she speaks – her manner of speaking is entertaining, but the style does not translate well to the written word. I’ll finish the book, out of respect for her intellect. But get me back to fiction – quick!

Okay, my snow bunnies in the northeast, enjoy your 8 to 12 inches of snow. In about a week, when you look at your gray, slushy landscape, start planning your trip to the Keys. We’re ready for you. You don’t need to throw much into the suitcase – shorts and a tee shirt and sandals. A toothbrush is always a good idea. We’ll take you fishing and walking and biking, tour the wild bird refuge, visit Key West (during the week), and – oh, you can just come here and veg – soak up the Vitamin D (under a thick cover of sunscreen), catch up on your reading, relax. Sound good? Then what are you waiting for? Come on down to the land of eternal summer.