Civilized

So there I was...walking the streets of Vineyard Haven on Martha's Vineyard several years ago with Kim and her cousin Melinda who had come a long way to spend a few days with us in paradise.  We were waiting for a particular establishment to open so we decided to hike up to West Chop Lighthouse to fill the time.  Having never visited this lighthouse, one of five found on the island, I didn't realise what a long uphill hike it would be and doing it in sandals just made it worse.  By the time we got there we were hot and exhausted but it was worth it as I have never visited a lighthouse I didn't like.  It was what we came to just beyond the lighthouse that has stuck with me all these years.  There were two little girls, about ten years old, that had a little lemonade stand set up in the perfect spot to serve those who had hiked to the lighthouse on this hot summer day with a beautiful view of Vineyard Sound behind them.  They both looked like they just stepped out of a Sears catalog with the perfect looks and dressed to perfection.  They were polite and well spoken to a fault but what came next was the coup de grâce.  When I asked for a lemonade one of the girls goes into a cooler next to her and pulls out a lemon.  She cuts it in half and as I watch in amazement she fresh squeezes it and combines the juice with the ice, sugar and water the second girl had prepared.  I am presented with this most elegant concoction with the sweetest of smiles and it was the very best glass of lemonade I have ever tasted.  Sometimes all of the pieces come together to produce the perfect experience.  How civilized.

Down South

So there I was...startled awake at three in the morning as someone was pounding at my door with apparent intentions of knocking it down.  I had arrived here in Montgomery, Alabama late in the evening and found the $7 a night motel so I could get a shower and a good nights sleep.  After traveling and sleeping in my car for over a week I was beginning to reek despite my many attempts to freshen up in the rest stops along the interstate.  At 18 years old it wasn't uncommon for me to jump in my car and just take off with no particular destination and very little money in my pocket.  This was my first time heading south from Connecticut and I had almost no exposure to southerners to this point except for the old southern preacher I met in Georgia a couple days earlier.  After being warned about sleeping in a car with Connecticut plates in rural areas due to a bit of left over Civil War animosity, I pulled into this little country church and asked the pastor if I could stay in his parking lot for the night.  At 7 in the morning a knock comes on my car window with the old pastor bellowing in a heavy southern drawl, "C'mon, vittles is on."  His wife fed me grits, collard greens, biscuits and gravy and other foods I had never tasted in my life.  There is nothing like southern hospitality.  Back in Montgomery, I stumbled out of bed as the banging continued at my door with shouts of, "Let me in there...you let me in there." As I opened the door I saw an extremely large woman with her fist raised in the air and fire in her eyes.  She stared at me for a moment and then flatly said, "I got the wrong room."  I closed the door and headed back to bed.  A moment later, two doors down, I heard banging and a familiar voice yelling "Let me in there...you let me in there."  
Many years later I would live in the south and even marry a southern woman but that night in Montgomery I had mixed feelings about what felt like a whole different country.

Still Crazy After All These Years

So there I was...standing in the middle of the woods with a tuxedo hanging from a tree branch and a fidgety horse by my side as my brother looked on in disbelief.  It was 31 years ago, yesterday, that I donned a white tux and after carefully crossing a stream, riding an all black horse, galloped up the long hill to become one with my bride.  We had met on a blind date six months earlier and now she was coming from the other direction with her father in a horse drawn surrey.  The mothers, bridesmaids and flower girl were already waiting at the outdoor pavilion dressed in period costume after arriving in a wagon pulled by two mules.  As Kim and her father got closer it was a race for me to arrive first.  Dismounting quickly, I handed the reins to one of my groomsman and took my place next to my brother, the best man.  All was going well and the guests were enjoying the show when Kim and her dad exited the surrey and started walking down the aisle.  What someone forgot to tell me was my father-in-law-to-be would be carrying a very large shotgun at his side while he approached.  My brother said something like, "We have to run, we have to run now."  I never found out if the gun was loaded or not but I didn't run and never will.  Our wedding night was spent at a remote hunting cabin in a little town called Romance, MO.  Isn't that just sick?  It started crazy and still is.  I wouldn't have it any other way.  

Cave Crawling

So there I was...filthy from head to toe and wedged in a hole wondering if I was going to see the light of day again.  It all happened several years ago when some casual friends of mine said they did some caving and that I was welcome to come along.  Always ready to jump at the opportunity to try something new and risky, I met them at the break of dawn one Saturday morning.  They had all the equipment I would need and told me to wear clothes I wouldn't mind throwing away.  After donning helmet, gloves, multiple lights, headlamp, food and water we slipped into a small hole in the ground located in a wooded area where I immediately felt the temperature drop to about 55 degrees, down 25 degrees from the outside summer day.  As we made our way deeper into the earth there were narrow tunnels that required you to lay on your back and move yourself forward by walking with your shoulder blades through the mud and bat droppings while you studied the hanging bats just inches from your face at times.  There were small streams moving through parts of the cave and here is where I first saw a blind salamander.  Having no use for eyes in the pitch black environment its body had adapted and though you could see where the eyes used to be it was now just skinned over.  There was a circular room we came to that was about 8 feet across that was formed from some sort of whirlpool that had etched it away showing several layers of different colored rock.  It was here sitting on a ledge that we stopped for lunch and turned off our lights for the first time.  I have never seen blackness to that degree before.  Even after allowing time for your eyes to adjust you still could not see anything and I then realized why the necessity for redundancy  and variation of our many lights.  With so many turns, branches and levels of a cave, if you lost all light there is little chance of finding your way back out.  Speaking of levels, we were having to drop through a hole to enter another level of the cave when I, as the largest person there, got stuck and instead of stopping to think this through I impatiently pushed harder getting myself seriously stuck.  The other two cavers were already through the hole so there was nobody above me to pull me up.  It was decided that I would breath every bit of air out of my lungs, contracting my chest cavity, while the others would pull from the bottom.  With a great tug I popped through to the lower level like a cork.  We found another way back.  We emerged from the cave, six hours after entering, dirty, tired and happy to see the sun.