CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY NINE: FAMILY, FRIENDS, FAMILY

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY NINE:  FAMILY, FRIENDS, FAMILY

One of the best parts of traveling along the Atlantic Coast is coming to a marina that is close enough for family or friends to visit us on Slow Motion. The Admiral and I both grew up in Pennsylvania (he continues to speak with a distinct Philly accent), and we still have family on the East Coast. Or in his case, he has family that has moved to the East Coast in recent years. Naturally, we would love to give all our family members and close friends the opportunity to cruise along with us on the Intracoastal Waterway or to enjoy the ocean breezes with us on those days when the waves are predicted to be 1 to 2 feet. But for any number of reasons, most of our invitations to board Slow Motion and leave your daily worries on the shoreline have not been accepted. Sure, sure, most people still work, and that’s a bummer. And those who don’t work have pets who are not boat savvy and who require someone to care for them – not just anyone – someone who really will give them tender loving care. Or they have adorable grandchildren, who commandeer most of their leisure time. Or they fear getting seasick, which is not likely at the speeds we travel and on the rivers, bays, sounds and creeks that form the ICW. Boating is not for everyone – I get it. But maybe, just maybe, one or two days and nights on Slow Motion are the adventure of a lifetime. More fun than Disney World and Disneyland combined, and not nearly so expensive. Have you seen the prices at those parks recently? It’s not like you’re visiting the real wonders of the world – they’re fake, people! Disney’s artists created them out of paper mache, glue, string, and lots of sequins. Contrast that “Land of Fake Believe” with the real wonders of racing with dolphins, watching eagles soar overhead, and riding real waves on a real body of water. Disney’s creations, while imaginative, are really no match for what Slow Motion has to offer. So, shake yourselves out of your daily routines, leave your pets with a loved one (or bring them along), let your fears melt away, and hop aboard Slow Motion for one or more carefree days of waterway magic. When you wish upon a star…oh, you should see the night skies from aboard Slow Motion. Even without fireworks, they’re pretty spectacular. Tonight the sunset was the pinkest pink on top and the bluest blue below. And the pink was reflected on to the canal, so we had a totally rosy view of the world.

We have already had some great visits this summer. The last Sunday in June, my niece Gretchen and her husband Jem, their daughter Kat and their three (3) dogs came to Solomons for a day at the beach. We went to Flag Pond Park, because you can find shark’s teeth in the Chesapeake Bay water and along the shoreline – at least most of the time. And this Sunday did not disappoint. As Kat was sitting in the Bay and sifting through shells, she suddenly held up a sharp black arrow-like specimen: “Is this a shark’s tooth?” And it was!  Beginner’s luck! I have yet to find one, but Kat’s random search is an inspiration to me. Almost as amazing as the shark’s tooth discovery was the fact that the bay water was really, really warm. As one who is now used to the 55 degrees of the Pacific Ocean water in Carmel and Monterey, this was a very pleasant surprise, just to be able to stroll around in the calf deep bay water and not worry about hypothermia. Back to the shark’s tooth for a minute. Nearby Flag Pond are the Calvert Cliffs, which are teeming with fossils, which include lots and lots of sharks’ teeth. There is an exhibit at the Calvert Marine Museum which shows dozens of different kinds of sharks’ teeth, which have been found around the Calvert Cliffs and places like the beach at Flag Pond. So I knew what we were looking for. After Kat’s discovery, a Park ranger walked by, and we proudly showed him our find. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a treasure trove of sharks’ teeth, a manta ray dental plate and bones from whales and dolphins. He claimed he had found all these fossilized body parts on the beach that very day. So if you have an urge to hunt for sharks’ teeth and other fossils, get yourself down to Flag Pond. Take a sifter or a strainer. Some women had a nifty contraption, a sifter with a long handle, so you could stand up and stroll along the edge of the water, while dragging your sifter through the surf. That’s the stylish way to go, rather than squatting in the sand pawing through the sifter with both hands. But hey, they weren’t shouting: “Shark’s tooth!” So maybe it’s all style, no substance.

As for the visit with Gretchen and fam, we hiked the half mile to and from the beach three times – so it was great exercise. Jem did the round trip four times. What a trooper! The grills and picnic tables are back near the parking lot at Flag Pond, so we took a break from hunting for primitive fossils to eat some modern day dogs and orzo – Thank you, Admiral! And when the sun started to really heat up around 4, we left the beach for a restaurant in Solomons that allows dogs, even three of them, to sit next to you while you eat. That’s Stoney’s Kingfisher, right on the water. Their crab dip is sooo smooth and full of crab. Gretchen’s a Maryland  crab lover, and she ordered crab from the entrée to the dessert. Crab strudel isn’t as bad as it sounds – just kidding! She had already had the crab cake for her entrée, so all that was left for dessert was crab pie or crab ice cream, so she tried both of them – again, just kidding! The dogs’ behavior was exemplary during dinner, until a huge black Lab/Rottweiler mix lumbered into their territory.  All three dogs had been sleeping, once again proving the truth of the adage: “Let sleeping dogs lie.” No dogs or people were harmed in the ensuing bark-off, and the Anderson clan returned to Front Royal, Virginia with a genuine shark’s tooth, satisfied stomachs and uninjured dogs. It was one of the best visits of all time.

The following week Lexi, the prodigious granddaughter of Janie and Mike, came to visit us on Slow Motion. Oooh, that girl is curious! And she makes a mean play dough angel fish, which she presented to me on arrival. She was only here for a little while, but she left a firm impression. Lexi for President! Have you ever met an 8 year old who uses the word “megalodon” correctly? I know! It surprised me too. If not President, then someone who influences our civilization like Albert Einstein or John Muir or Madame Curie. Of course, given her genes, it’s no surprise that Lexi excels. Janie and Mike are topnotch. Her parents are too. Janie made her own visit to Slow Motion on the 5^th of July, the night that Solomons put on a fireworks display. What is it about fireworks? I never get tired of them. Janie’s presence made the night special, as we go back to Jennings Street together, little kids getting our first “fireworks” from Bethlehem Steel’s blast furnaces booming and belching bright red clouds into the night skies.  Janie is special – my book buddy and full-fledged member (with Mike) of the Maryland intelligentsia.

Speaking of brilliant people, the Admiral’s estimable daughter, Sabina, and her friend, Bryan, came to visit us in Delaware City last weekend. Sabina has a very sharp legal mind, and Bryan, like me, is a sports fanatic. The Admiral had planned a fishing excursion for Bryan, but he needed his sleep more than he needed to hook sea critters. So we let him sleep into the late morning hours. Then Sabina and Bryan and I headed on foot to Cordelia’s Café and Bakery. They advertise baked French toast. I had to try it. The also advertise sticky buns, a specialty of my sister. Bryan and I ordered the French toast and Sabina went all in on the sticky buns. They are very filling, to say the least. Not sure a life preserver would be buoyant enough to keep you from sinking after eating just one slice of the toast. It’s the density of sticky bun dough, not Wonder bread. We waddled back to the boat. Bryan and Sabina had the good sense to go get some exercise kayaking on Lum’s Pond, Delaware’s largest fresh water pond. I vegged with the Admiral, whose knee has been acting up. We reunited for dinner at Crabby Dick’s – what a seafood festival that was! Bryan ordered “The Admiral’s Catch” or something modest like that. The waiter, a Blue Hen from UD, put in an order for the biggest pot of mixed seafood on the menu – even bigger than the Admiral’s Catch. Half the denizens of the Delaware Bay – steamed into submission – arrived in a humongous pot, crab legs hanging out three sides of it. We pointed out the mistake to our Blue Hen, and he said “Enjoy!” and charged for what Bryan had actually ordered. Meanwhile, the Admiral enjoyed his fried oysters and Sabina said her fried shrimp were amazingly tender and tasty. I had the Saturday special, a bowl of mussels, which did not disappoint. Score one for Crabby Dick’s and the Blue Hen.

As lovers of air conditioning, Bryan and Sabina headed back to their icy apartment in D.C. once they had digested the ocean’s offerings. They had spent the night before on Slow Motion, and it must have agreed with them, since they both slept long and well. But there’s nothing like your own bed, your own pillow, especially after you have had a satisfying meal. The Admiral and I nearly slept straight through until Monday, once our heads hit our respective pillows. So this is what we do when we tie up at a marina for several weeks at a time. We entertain family and friends, and when there’s a lull, we work on Slow Motion. Just this past week, she got a new fuel pump. The Admiral turned on the engines, and for the first time in months, they roared from the gitgo – no hesitation whatsoever. We can say with some certainty now that we needed a new fuel pump. Yesterday the Admiral climbed up the front of Slow Motion to work on the place where there had been a loudspeaker. He wants to get this working again so he can yell directions at his “crew”, he says. There is a mechanism to make this a two-way yelling device, but he says there’s no need for the “crew” to be yelling anything at the Admiral, so he’s leaving that part dormant. Such a kidder, the Admiral.

As you have now had a little sampling of the kinds of adventures we go on when you visit us on Slow Motion, schedule your visit now. We’ll be waiting. I don’t want to sound maudlin, but this will probably be our last cruising year with Slow Motion, so don’t delay. Seize the Day!

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY EIGHT: CRY FREEDOM!

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY EIGHT: CRY FREEDOM!

Here it is Bastille Day, July 14, and no released prisoners in sight! Yesterday I went to a Prisoners of War Weekend at Fort Delaware, but all the prisoners had been released some time ago – 1865. This was one of the biggest POW camps for the Union during the Civil War. The real stars yesterday were the men and women who volunteer to re-enact different personalities who inhabited the Fort during the Civil War years. I met “Miss Jefferson”, a resident of New Castle who visited the Fort bringing fresh fruit to the prisoners to help prevent the spread of scurvy at the camp. “Miss Jefferson” is played by an actor/playwright who tries to enlist the members of the audience into becoming “angels” for the Confederate soldiers by visiting them and exchanging letters with them and bringing them basic items like clothes, fruit, a needle and thread – anything that the Union guards will allow. She almost convinced me that there were still 9000 Confederate prisoners at the Fort who were in desperate need of our help – but then she took questions at the end of her re-enactment, and we were all back in 2014, sitting on hard benches, waiting for the next “show”.

The next re-enactment was done by two African-American men, one in his sixties playing a captured slave from Texas, and one in his twenties playing a free man from Philadelphia. They loosely interpreted a one act play written by the aforementioned “Miss Jefferson” that asked the question: What is freedom? For the Texas slave, it meant ending the war and getting the right to return to Texas as a free man (after the Emancipation Proclamation freed all the African American slaves in the states that had seceded from the Union, Texas among them). He wanted nothing more than to reunite with his wife. His master had let him “jump the broom” with her, right before the master dragged him off to fight for the Confederacy. The young free man, who worked in the kitchen at Fort Delaware, wanted to enlist as a soldier and fight for the freedom of all African Americans. The older gent said the young man would end up in the cemetery, if that was his idea of freedom. And the young man said that the older man should not expect any “freedom” on his return to Texas. He predicted a hostile reception that would no doubt end in further servitude or death. The actors were great in their roles. They gave you a good feel for the uncertain future ahead for all Black men and women, both during the war and at its conclusion. Their main issue was more one of survival than the abstract notion of freedom.

The third and fourth re-enactments were performed by volunteers affiliated with the 3^rd Regiment of the United States Colored Troops, a group based in Philadelphia. There were two African American men doing a great job of recruiting us to join the regiment. They offered $13 per month in payment and uniforms and food. They had fought to get equal pay with white soldiers. When they were first recruited, Black soldiers were paid $7 per month, but they won pay equity fairly quickly (unlike women workers, who are still fighting for it). These “recruiters” were very convincing, and when they stopped talking, they picked up their guitar and flute and played several lively tunes (Camptown Races) from the Civil War Era for us. Then a fellow came marching up to the audience, as we sat on some hard wooden benches, and introduced himself as Sgt. Elbert of the 3^rd Regiment. He described his efforts to enlist in the Union Army, a feat that was extremely difficult until the U.S. War Department established the Bureau of Colored Troops (their choice of titles) on May 22, 1863. Sgt. Elbert was in full Union uniform carrying a backpack on his back and a musket. The temps were in the high 80’s and everyone on the benches was dripping sweat. But Sgt. Elbert in his heavy wool navy blues showed no signs of being the least bit warm. How did he do that? Is that part of his acting skills – acting like he’s not sweating bullets under all that heavy clothing? If so, he deserves an Oscar, an Emmy and a Tony. He was amazing. Move over, Morgan Freeman, you’ve got some stiff competition for best African American actor of all time.

I looked up the Wikipedia description of the enlistment of African Americans into the Union Army, and this is what it said:

“The United States War Department issued General Order Number 143 on May 22, 1863, establishing the Bureau of Colored Troops to facilitate the recruitment of African-American soldiers to fight for the Union Army.^[3] Regiments, including infantry, cavalry, engineers, light artillery, and heavy artillery units, were recruited from all states of the Union and became known as the United States Colored Troops (USCT).

Approximately 175 regiments composed of more than 178,000 free blacks and freedmen served during the last two years of the war. Their service bolstered the Union war effort at a critical time. By war's end, the men of the USCT composed nearly one tenth of all Union troops. The USCT suffered 2,751 combat casualties during the war, and 68,178 losses from all causes. Disease caused the most fatalities for all troops, black and white.^[4]

USCT regiments were led by white officers, and rank advancement was limited for black soldiers. The Supervisory Committee for Recruiting Colored Regiments in Philadelphia opened the Free Military Academy for Applicants for the Command of Colored Troops at the end of 1863.^[5] For a time, black soldiers received less pay than their white counterparts, but they (and their supporters) lobbied and gained equal pay.^[6] Notable members of USCT regiments included Martin Robinson Delany, and the sons of Frederick Douglass.

The courage displayed by colored troops during the Civil War played an important role in African Americans gaining new rights. As the abolitionist Frederick Douglass wrote:

"Once let the black man get upon his person the brass letter, U.S., let him get an eagle on his button, and a musket on his shoulder and bullets in his pocket, there is no power on earth that can deny that he has earned the right to citizenship."^[7]”

I had no idea that Black troops accounted for almost 10% of all Union troops. I don’t know if this included the Black troops put together in northern states like Massachusetts (think the movie, “Glory) before the 1863 War Department order or just the Black troops enlisted by the Bureau of CT. Still, this is a significant number, and their losses were great. I agree with Frederick Douglass that the Black soldiers certainly earned the right to citizenship, but I don’t think Blacks had to risk their lives in uniform to earn that right. Otherwise, Black women would not have been allowed to become citizens. Oh yeah, that’s right – the Thirteenth, Fourteenth and Fifteenth Amendments were really only intended to give Black MEN equal rights. Black women certainly did not get the right to vote under the Fifteenth Amendment. As you know, I’m a huge Harriet Tubman fan, and if anyone earned the right to citizenship, she did with all of her heroics getting Black men, women and children out of the South on the Underground Railroad. But she was not the only heroic Black woman. As Black and White women fought for freedom and equality for members of the Black race before, during and after the Civil War, they advanced their arguments vigorously that it was time not only to accord equal rights to Black men, but also to legislate equality for Black and White women.

Women were the backbone of the Abolition Movement, and what did we get for our efforts? Bupkus. Sure, a lot of hollow promises that if we just waited a little bit longer – and let Black men have the limelight for the time being – we would get the right to vote too – some day. How about more than 50 years later in another century? This is all the more galling, given that the Slave Codes in the Southern States, which governed how to treat Black slaves under the law, were based totally on the earlier Codes in all of the States, which governed how to treat women and children under the law. So, it was logical that if you got rid of the Slave Codes, you got rid of the Codes they were based on – the ones that treated women and children as property. Logical, true, but something the governing white men chose to ignore. Bitter? Yes, a little bit. And about that Equal Rights Amendment, which 35 states ratified in the 1970’s, when 38 were needed to add it to the U.S. Constitution. I will never forgive you, Missouri, Illinois and Florida legislators. And the rest of you, representatives of the Deep South, Nevada, Utah and Arizona, what a misogynistic bunch of hypocrites. Even Texas ratified the ERA, and Kentucky and Tennessee! Virginia, you have no excuse whatsoever. Call yourself the cradle of democracy – guess you never got out of your infantile stage to make an adult decision supporting equality for half your population. Harrumph!

And so, the POW day at Fort Delaware aroused some strong feelings. Come to think of it, there were no Black women re-enactors for any of the events I attended. However, Black women were featured in the program. According to the official program for the event, Roberta Perkins presented an exhibit on her ongoing research into the presence of African-Americans at Fort Delaware. And Valarie Petty Bowyer gave a living history performance of Charlotte Forten, a free black woman who was a prominent anti-slavery activist and teacher. I just missed them, I guess. Good for you, Fort Delaware State Park, for including Black women in the fight for freedom during the mid-19^th century. Of all the programs you have presented, including all the paranormal and ghostly events you put on at the Fort, recognizing the importance of Black women in the history of the Civil War at Fort Delaware and in the State of Delaware is one of your proudest moments. Thank you.

 

 

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY SEVEN: GO MARIE! F--- CANCER!

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY SEVEN: GO MARIE! F--- CANCER!

I try to be amusing, but one subject that does not tickle my funny bone is cancer. My friend, Marie, is in the hospital, where she had cancer removed from her body, and now she’s battling an infection. This is not fair for her or her family or friends. She waged an all-out war against cancer about ten years ago, and against all odds, she won! Her beautiful blonde hair, which disappeared all together with the chemo and radiation, came back even more beautiful than before. She was back on the job, sardonic wit firmly in place and giving sage advice to anyone who entered her office. She had faced cancer – three different kinds at once—and cancer was no match for her strength, her will, her courage. This time it better back off too, because we need Marie in our world to make us better people. I do not doubt Marie’s strength, will and determination. She will not give up. And neither should we. Go Team Marie!

 

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY SIX: HARD AND WET

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY SIX: HARD AND WET

This is how we spent our last two weeks: hard and wet. First, the “hard” week. We returned from the Poconos to Spring Cove in Solomons, Md., where Slow Motion was still teetering on tripods “on the hard” in the boatyard. Our shiny new propellers had arrived from Florida and they are a sight to behold. They’re just too pretty to hide underwater. I took a lot of pictures to remind me of how clean and burnished they looked when we got them. Once we returned, all the work we had requested began in earnest. The first boat bottom painter was, shall we say, lacking in the skills and motivation department. So he was fired, and we got a new, improved boat bottom painter, who did a masterful job going over all the mistakes and omissions of the less able fellow and then added a second coat for good measure. Slow Motion’s bottom was covered beautifully. Our new propellers were installed, and a local machine shop ground down the nuts that hold them in place, so they fit perfectly. Every day Alan of South Africa, the boatyard supervisor, came to check out our progress. He has a tattoo of Africa on his right calf. (And oh, the stories he could tell!)

Alan had his own boatyard problems while we were away. A mighty Kadey Krogen, also “on the hard”, across from Slow Motion, hooked its anchor into the hydraulic pipes along one side of Spring Cove’s relatively new boat lift. And the lift was out of commission. Alan took the blame, saying he thought the lift driver, Chuck, could hear him, but he had moved out of earshot to the other side of the lift. It was his first accident in 17 years, he said. You would have to meet Alan to realize what a stand-up guy he is – no B.S. whatsoever. He ordered new pipes from the lift manufacturer in Wisconsin, and they arrived days later – but two feet too short. This was frustrating, to say the least, because the manufacturer had made the Spring Cove lift, and knew, or should have known, the size of the pipes it had installed. In the meantime, boat owners were getting restless, trying to get their boats off the “hard”, back into the water, or out of the water on to the “hard”. Our neighbors on land, Pam and Don had been on the hard for more than a month, as Don did the impossible – personally installed bow and stern thrusters on his Jefferson power boat, Gallivant. They were just about done with their repairs and improvements, when the KK anchor bent the lift’s pipes. Their return to the water was delayed by about 5 days, but they treated this setback with the same equanimity we did. Stuff happens, especially in boatyards. There are no guarantees, except that you are guaranteed to Break Out Another Thousand (BOAT).

Living on the hard is a lot like camping out. We had no water line and we had no air conditioning. We were treated to temps in the high 80’s and humidity off the charts. We also had one really big rain storm one night, which kind of cleared the air. It was the lack of water line which had me perplexed at first. But when I discovered a pump action faucet across the yard, which I could use to wash dishes and fill water jugs, I realized we could survive on Slow Motion on the hard, sort of. Usually when we are tied up at a marina we run a garden hose to the “city water” outlet on the dock near our boat, and we can run water from the faucet in the galley sink. With that option closed, I trudged like a sub-Saharan matron to the watering hole with my dirty dishes or empty water jugs in tow. This is where all my years of education have brought me – back to a basic survival mode where water is a precious commodity which you have to share with all the members of your community, from the sweaty do-it-yourself boat owners to the dusty boatyard workers. But at night, when the workers and do-it-yourselfers went home, the water pump was mine, all mine! I even used soap on the dishes, and the suds spilled all over the ground. But I knew they would disappear before the boatyard came to life again in the morning. Who knew that soap suds could be such a guilty pleasure?

As I sit here scratching my latest bug bites, I still wonder when these blood suckers penetrate my flesh for their morning, noon and evening meals. I can’t see or hear them for the most part, but my legs and arms have provided many feasts for these invisible insects. It started out when we were on the hard at Spring Cove and continues until today at Calvert Marina. That’s another part of this experience which reminds me of camping. Who doesn’t remember being eaten alive by mosquitoes around the old campground picnic table? Funny thing about these insects – they have two human options before them – the Admiral and me – and they always choose me, the anemic one. Maybe I should follow the Admiral’s lead and never shower – just kidding! The Admiral has been known to shower at least once a week. I know I’m sweeter than the Admiral, exuding sugar from every pore – I eat a lot of candy, so I’m literally sweet, not figuratively. I’m sorry – too much information? Hey – I’ve spared you all the details of toilet etiquette on Slow Motion. Besides, you can feel smug and superior as you read this with nary a bug bite on your body. And if you ever need an insect magnet, you now know who to call. You’re welcome.

Just as I was getting used to climbing a tall ladder to get onto Slow Motion’s swim board, Alan announced that the parts had arrived and the lift was fixed, and we could go back into the water on Friday, the 27^th of June. The night before, they moved the lift to our position on land and put Slow Motion in its “cradle”, so it was ready to take the plunge first thing the next morning. With Chuck driving the lift, and Alan directing, we rumbled toward the “well” at 8 a.m. and Slow Motion was slowly lowered back into the water. Guess what! We still floated! And guess what else! The new propellers worked like a charm! And there was no shimmy! It’s a whole new world – a world without corroding propellers and bottom barnacles! As of the 27^th, we had not seen our bill – Alan was still working on it – but we knew these major improvements did not come cheap. Still, when your boat needs work, the emphasis is on “need” – there were too many years of deferred maintenance on Slow Motion in her previous life. We’re playing catch-up from the former owner’s years of neglect. I keep a log of every type of maintenance we do, of every part we replace – with the costs – so that the new owners will have a complete picture of the loving care we have given Slo Mo during our tenure. New owners, you say? You didn’t think we were going to cruise up and down the Atlantic Seacoast forever, did you? You did? Who knows what the future holds? Stay tuned, as our adventures with Slow Motion are not over yet. And as long as we cruise, on land or on sea, I will continue to write this blog about it. So for those of you who have become somewhat addicted to a regular Slow Motion fix, don’t worry, be happy – at least for now.

We went from “the hard” to “the wet” in less than 24 hours. My God, it was humid at Calvert Marina, where we motored after leaving Spring Cove. This is a five minute trip across Back Creek. Still, when you’re moving on the water, there is some air movement you can take advantage of. But when you’re tied up at a dock, as we have been for the past week, and the humidity goes off the scale, there is no air. There is only “wet”. You take a shower and dry off, and you are still as wet as you were in the shower. You lie down on top of the cotton quilt, and your shirt and shorts get wet, as does the quilt. Your hair gets wet, as your scalp is oozing perspiration. On top of all this wetness, there is the lethargy which sets in. Where once you had muscles, now you have jello limbs. Where once you were able to think complex thoughts, now you are dull as a woman’s razor after 10 leg shavings. That is dull! You don’t have the energy to get up off the soggy quilt or to change into dry clothes, and you know they’ll only stay dry for about 10 minutes anyway. What about air conditioning, you may ask? Touchy subject, that. True, we had the use of our air conditioners on Slow Motion, when we tied up at Calvert and hooked up to the 50 amp power pedestal. But the Admiral cogently explained to me that the air conditioners are high ticket items and if we used them and they broke, then most likely we would not be able to replace them – AND we would not be able to sell Slow Motion without working air conditioners. This made sense – NOT. I was drowning in warm puddles of perspiration, and the Admiral was throwing “what ifs” at me. Not fair. Especially because he was making sense.  But I, who usually eschews air conditioning at all costs and who also hates to be hypocritical, only had one overriding dull thought in my mildewed mind – I need cool, dry air! Finally, on the second or third day of this odorous ordeal (the days blurred together), the Admiral turned on the A/C, and I came to life again. I walked and talked and moved about the salon. I made a salad from fresh produce. And then, the humidity dropped, a cool breeze swept through Slo Motion’s side windows, and we were no longer sticking to the quilt, our clothes and each other.

To celebrate the return of fresh, dry air, the Admiral printed out a new set of New York Times crossword puzzles, and we set a record – we completed five (5) puzzles (Wednesday through Sunday) in just hours. These puzzles were hard, filled with lots of stupidly clever Will Shortz tricks and puns. So we knew our brain activity was back on track -- Just in time to have salient discussions of all the outrageous Supreme Court rulings of the last week in June. Hobby Lobby, the corporation, has the right to religious freedom, which trumps the religious freedom rights of its thousands of employees? Are you kidding me? Why not give Hobby Lobby and the other corporations their “rights” under the Second Amendment too, while you’re at it? Or how about the “penumbra” of amendments that provide a constitutional right to privacy? Let’s give those corporations/persons their penumbral right to privacy – to reproductive freedom. Oh sorry, with this Supreme Court majority, that’s merely a “woman’s issue”, not a fundamental right anymore, so corporations wouldn’t even want it. They only want the rights that trump “trivial” things like a woman’s right to choose. And, by God (pun intended) those clueless guys on the Supreme Court who happen to be Catholic, are going to see that corporations get everything that they want! Screw the individual, particularly the “loose woman” who wants her employer or her government to pay for birth control pills.

I knew Justice Thomas was a disaster from the gitgo, and I had no illusions whatsoever about Scalia and Alito. But I thought Roberts was salvageable, and Kennedy? Didn’t all those years in California make him a little bit progressive? All right, investigative reporters out there, listen up! Find out which of these miscreants is using Viagra or any other “enhancer”, and blow the whistle on their getting these sex drugs paid for by their insurance, while forcing women to pay for their own contraception. Talk about hypocrisy! Talk about denial of equal rights! Talk about abuse of power! Talk about turning the Constitution on its head and emptying out anything that would guarantee equal protection and privacy to women! Seriously, talk about this with anyone who will listen. This is not funny. Okay, settle down, settle down, Ann. You can see I got my brain back with a vengeance – now I just need to get my country back, the nation that used to be heading toward equal rights for women and men. Remember those days? We talk a lot about “the first woman President”, and that would surely be nice, but how about the first Supreme Court with a majority of women-oriented women? Not Queen bees, like Sarah Palin, who could care less about other women, but women who are tired of getting paid less than men, fed up with getting unequal insurance benefits that don’t cover a basic health item like contraception (while shelling out for Viagra), and marginalized by an old boy network which clings to their privilege and their power. I may not be wet anymore, but the Supreme Court’s misogyny has sure made me hot. Thank you, air conditioning, for activating my mind again. Now it’s time for another crossword puzzle.

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY FIVE: HEAD FOR THE HILLS!

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY FIVE: HEAD FOR THE HILLS!

We returned from our idyllic mountain aerie in Western North Carolina on Wednesday June 11. Slow Motion’s bottom had been painted – not well –and the employee was fired, not just for the poor job on Slow Motion. This earned Slow Motion a better painter, who fixed the first coat of paint and put on a second coat for good measure. Break Out Another Thousand. And you already know the propeller story (need new ones – Break Out A lotta Thousands). But what you haven’t heard about yet is our Great Trip to the Poconos! We called my brother and his wife to ask for sanctuary from the humidity and heat, and they graciously opened their home to us from Saturday June 14 to Friday June 20. They are also fantastic tour guides, an added bonus. And they provided us a necessary “dog fix” with their very vocal, extremely affectionate springer spaniel, Hopi. But this is the topper – the weather was “cool” in every sense of the word – I actually wore a sweat shirt during the day! At night the temp dipped into the 40’s. By day we enjoyed the 70’s and very little humidity. This was perfect weather for the outings we took.

The first outing was a three mile walk on the “rail trail” along the Lehigh River. The river looks wild up here in the Poconos, not at all like the lethargic caramel brown flow through the 8 mile long Bethlehem Steel mills, once very active and now closed but for one former mill which houses a sad, poorly attended casino. The Lehigh is green in the Poconos and it has some rapids with white caps, which the rafters and kayakers were enjoying as we saw them roll down stream toward the brown stuff. We went to the Lehigh River Gorge to look at the solid wall of rhododendron bushes that tower over the trail. The solid wall was definitely there, but alas, the blooms were gone and there were lots of shiny new leaves in their place. Maybe next year. Lois says she’ll go every day next year if she has to, in order to catch the rhodies in full bloom. I think Mother’s Day is a good bet – between then and Memorial Day. We arrived in time to beat the rush, namely the two dozen people and their pooches who were doing a fundraising walk for the Hazelton, PA animal shelter. So we had the trail to ourselves. The air was crisp and the water music from the Lehigh was a constant companion. Hopi was full of energy, and we just loped along with her for about a half hour in one direction, then turned around and retraced our steps. After the Gorge Walk we went back to Lake Naomi, and later Rusty took me to one of the Miller mansions (first settlers of Lake Naomi), where there was still a wall of blooming rhododendrons. I took a gazillion shots, and now I can’t bear to get rid of any of them. The Carolinas and Georgia have their azaleas in the spring time, but nothing beats lavender rhododendron blooms in Pennsylvania in May and June for sheer beauty.

On the morning of the second day of our visit to Pocono Paradise, Rusty took me kayaking on Lake Naomi. That was both refreshing and invigorating. We had this large lake to ourselves and paddled around one of its islands with a light, cool breeze wafting toward us, but not impeding our progress at all. As I type this blog at Calvert Marina I long for that cool breeze and the low humidity that came with it. I had not been kayaking for a number of years. Kayaks are so maneuverable and responsive to every oar movement. The first kayaking I ever did was years ago (high school) with Dick Gold on the Delaware River, where we encountered a few small rapids. I loved that experience. During my married life (long ago), we bought a canoe and paddled around various lakes in Connecticut. I just remember how heavy that Grumman metal canoe was and how hard it was to portage it and get it on top of the car. Kayaks are so much lighter and easier to handle. Then my next whitewater experience was rafting down the Colorado with Arizona Raft Adventures (a great group!) and my friend Patty. That was amazing! Every day we experienced some remarkable natural wonder and found different ways to enjoy the river. We body surfed down a side tributary. We played Frisbee inside a large cave. We covered ourselves in mud and built a mud pyramid. We took showers under gushing waterfalls. We hiked to hidden pools and, most of all, we rode the rapids, which are nature’s roller coasters. I never knew you could pack so much fun into one day or into a series of six days. And kayaking on Lake Naomi with my brother brought a lot of these memorable moments tumbling back.

Foodie alert! There is a gourmet restaurant on Route 209 near Stroudsburg, Pennsylvania – Andrew Moore’s Stone Bar Inn. This place makes exquisite soups, particularly bisques. A best buy is the sampler of three of their mouth watering soups. Their rib eye cut of beef was as tender as filet mignon, and the crab cakes were remarkably full of crab. Those were the outstanding dishes, but everything was prepared beautifully and served with aplomb. (or was that “a plum”?). This place was the highlight of our third day of chilling out in the Poconos.

Somewhere between the third and fourth day, the Admiral finally got to help with a home improvement project. He insisted that he be allowed to work on at least one of my brother’s items on his to-do list while he was enjoying the mountain air. And the replacement of the stairs from the garage to the attic was number one on the list. These guys – the Admiral and Rusty – worked together as a team seamlessly, like they had been on the same construction crew for years. There was no shouting, no disagreements, no diva attitudes, no flaring tempers – just smooth, continuous effort until the project was successfully completed. The new stairs look great, and even better, they can support a lot more weight than the old stairs, they’re sturdier and safer. Not one to rest on laurels, the Admiral wanted to move directly to the sump pump project, but that will have to wait for another visit. While not doing manual labor, the Admiral enjoyed making a video of one of the hummingbirds that started to make regular visits to the feeder on the porch. Why is it that we can watch hummingbirds for long periods of time without ever getting bored? It may not generate the same excitement as racing with porpoises, but it ranks very high as an endlessly entertaining event.

Have you heard of Grey Towers? It’s a jewel overlooking the Delaware River Valley Milford, Pa., which also happens to sport a very good drive-in ice cream place. However, before the ice cream break, we toured the Pinchot palace known as Grey Towers. This is a national historic site for the mansion and grounds of Gifford Pinchot, twice governor of Pennsylvania and before that, best outdoor buddy of Teddy Roosevelt. The Bull Moose Prez appointed Gifford to be the first head of the newly created U.S. Forest Service, a division of the Department of Agriculture. Gifford inherited this lovely estate from his father, James Pinchot (1831 – 1908), who made a lot of money making and selling wallpaper in New York. I must say, the Pinchot manor is very nicely wallpapered. James had been used up a lot of trees in his wallpapering business. He also had been very successful in the lumbering business and he regretted cutting down this natural resource in such large quantities. To atone for his “sins” and assuage his conscience, James urged his son Gifford to get into the new field of forestry, which was being developed in the universities in Europe, but had not yet caught on at places like Harvard or Yale.

After graduating from Yale, Gifford Pinchot went to France, the country of his ancestors, and studied forestry at the French National School of Forestry. He returned to the United States on a mission to promote “scientific forestry”. He created the phrase “conservation ethic” as it applied to trees and other natural resources (Source: Wikipedia) and he was the first forester in the United States to show how to manage forest land for continuous cropping. He put all his learning to good use when he served as Forester in Chief of the country from 1905 to 1910, when President Taft fired him. Taft was pretty cuddly with business, much less of a tree hugger than Gifford’s former boss, Teddy R. It also did not help Gifford’s cause that he attacked Taft’s Secretary of Interior, Richard Ballinger, and spoke disparagingly of Taft’s policies. Gifford was lauded for his conservation efforts with the country’s forests, but was no friend of John Muir, because he did not support Muir’s preservation work. Muir wanted to preserve the wildness and scenic beauty of the forests. Pinchot did not ally himself with the wilderness advocates. He definitely wanted to conserve the forests, while at the same time allowing private companies to help manage the national forests. This included extensive timber cutting – in a scientific manner – but Muir loathed all timber cutting. On the other side of this arboreal spectrum was Congress, which opposed Pinchot’s every effort to conserve the forests, despite his alliance with private businesses to do so. Ah, the curse of the political centrist – attacked by both the purists who did not want one tree cut down and the money-grubbing Congressional reps whose backers wanted to exploit the forests for lumber, and more lumber – now! In fact, in 1907 Congress passed a law forbidding the creation of more forest reserves in the Western states. A short time before this law went into effect, Teddy R. designated 16 million more acres of national forests in the West – take that! These 16 million acres of trees were called the Midnight Forests.

Both James and Gifford had incredibly strong wives, Mary and Cornelia, respectively. Mary came from a wealthy New York family and put her strong imprint on Grey Towers, which was designed by Richard Morris Hunt to look like a French chateau. While not mentioned in the literature, I’m sure her wealth helped James purchase 3000 acres of prime Pennsylvania land on which to build their little 43 room summer cabin. Mary certainly did the decorating of all these rooms and she completed her work in 1886. Then decades later Cornelia (1881 – 1960) had her chance to make major changes, when she and Gifford set up their household year round at Grey Towers. This was the Governor’s mansion, and it was opened up several times a year to members of the public, one of the most well attended public events being a yearly ice cream social on the 4^th of July. Cornelia put the main dining room outside the mansion on a covered patio with wisteria growing down from the roof. There was/is a huge table with a “lake” in the middle, and the guides told us that the kitchen staff would bring in the dinner plates and float them to the guests on the water. I don’t know how well this worked in the very cold Pennsylvania winters, but it would be a treat to dine al fresco in this room without walls the rest of the year. This outdoor dining room was called the “Finger Bowl.”

Cornelia Pinchot was really into gardening, and the trees and flowers that cover the grounds are evidence of that. They even had famous guests help out sometimes. There is a large sugar maple still standing which was planted by Civil War Union General William Sherman, a frequent visitor to Grey Towers. When not gardening, Cornelia spent the rest of her time fighting for women’s right to vote, full educational opportunities for women and the protection of women and children from abuse in the workplace. Before there was Eleanor Roosevelt as an active First Lady, there was Cornelia Pinchot, who exerted huge influence on Gifford’s political agenda as Governor of Pennsylvania for two four year terms. While she was successful in getting her husband elected twice to the highest office in the Commonwealth, Cornelia failed to win election on three separate tries for a Congressional seat. And she failed to succeed her husband in the 1934 primary for Governor. It was not until 1942 that Pennsylvania voters elected their first woman representative to Congress. But Cornelia had paved the way for this later success. Small consolation, but a consolation nonetheless. You don’t have to win to be a trailblazer; you just have to try to do something that no one has ever done before.

Did I mention how breathtakingly beautiful the grounds are at Grey Towers? The mansion was, as mansions go, pretty interesting inside. There were too many stuffed animal heads for my taste. Of course, one stuffed moose head is one too many. But the real star of this national park is the landscaping. The Pinchots planted a lot of big shade trees, which were particularly welcome on a hot, sunny day. The view from their hilltop mansion is spectacular. I bet this was one place that dazzled even the late JFK, when he arrived in September, 1963 to dedicate Grey Towers as a national historic site. Gee, September, 1963, just two months before his assassination, JFK had the pleasure of viewing the “Finger Bowl” and looking down on the Delaware River Valley from this magnificent hillside. I’m sure he liked what he saw. I did.

The Admiral and I enjoyed every minute of our Poconos getaway with Rusty and Lois. They are great hosts, and best of all, they delivered on the cool weather. Rain was predicted, but it crashed to the ground in Harrisburg and Williamsport, not making it to our safe hideaway. We were able to make our annual trek to Lake Mineola to put a new coat of preservative on my sister Jean’s redwood bench. This excursion now includes a stop at the Wawa in Brodheadsville to get hoagies to eat in the park across from the road into Aunt Ruth and Uncle Ken’s cabin. The Admiral did a stellar job of making Jean’s bench glow again. I love being around the bench, because her spirit is so strong in that spot. It’s been 18 years since she died of non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma. I see more and more of her in her daughter, Gretchen. You never “lose” your loved ones when they die. Yes, you lose the ability to call them regularly on the phone and find out what cool things they’re doing with their lives. That’s the worst part – knowing that Jean could have done so much more in this lifetime and that she could have made me laugh a lot more. Sure, I miss her lasagna and her other cooking specialties, but most of all I miss her unconditional love. I know I still have it, but not in quite the same way. Her death taught me to treasure every member of my family, and that’s what I’m doing. Rusty and Lois, consider yourselves treasured! And come visit us on Slow Motion, as soon as you fix the sump pump – or sooner.