ELVIS???

 So there I was...relaxing in the cockpit of Eventide on a quiet evening when I thought I heard Elvis.  I had spent the day making my way west on the Erie Canal, ending up for the evening tied to a wall in the town of Medina, NY.  Now, a bit confused at what I supposedly heard, I made my way one block from the water only to see an Elvis impersonator leading a long conga-line of about 25 swaying people as he sang "Viva Las Vegas".  You can't make this stuff up.  Unbeknownst to me, there was a huge vintage car and truck show going on that spanned much of Main Street, that had been closed off for the event, with Elvis providing the nights entertainment.  After a foot long hotdog from the local VFW booth and a bit of gawking at all the beautifully restored vehicles, I returned to the cockpit of Eventide to listen to all of the classic Elvis songs from a safe distance.  I'll be continuing west to complete the Erie Canal with my destination being Buffalo, NY on the shores of Lake Erie but this was a nice surprise on my journey.  All I can say is, "Thank you, Elvis.  Thank you very much."

I'm Not Sure

 So there I was....rolling down the back roads of New York state in my SUV on my way to I'm Not Sure.  I've gone to I'm Not Sure before so you would think I'd have an idea where it is but I haven't a clue.  Not only that but when I'll get there and when I'll return is a mystery as well.  What I do know is that it was time to go.  I've been spending the nights in the Walmart Hotel, that is, I climb in my sleeping bag while parked in the corner of whatever Walmart lot I happened to be near at the time.  The rates are the cheapest you'll find and buying supplies are about as convenient as it gets.  Some great little breakfast places have been found along the way as I've moved my way South and East.  Today I pulled into Hershey, PA.  A few miles from there the whole road entering the town is colored chocolate brown and the street lights all look like Hershey kisses.  How cool is that?  Will tour the factory tomorrow and whatever else will tell me more about this American icon since this will be my first visit.  How did I go this long without checking this place out?  After doing my best to increase my cocoa knowledge I'll probably be heading for...I'm Not Sure. 

Amazing Grace

So there I was...hearing the hymn Amazing Grace wafting over the water on a very foggy day in Gloucester.  I stepped out into the cockpit of Eventide to search for the source of this haunting sound.  There, on the end of a dock, stood a lone bagpiper in full regalia playing this tune of hope, yet a sense of sadness permeated the air.  A boat with several well dressed people aboard appeared out of the mist and headed for the Scottish figure.  As it floated several yards off the end of the dock, I could see through my binoculars the people crying as they consoled one another.  Suddenly, the vessel turned toward the open sea, slowly making its way out of the harbor on its way to spread the loved ones ashes on the outgoing tide.  As I watched, it disappeared into the mist from which it came.  And the piper played on.

The Maine Attraction

So there I was...anchored in Harpswell Harbor, found on one of the many islands speckled throughout Casco Bay, Maine.  Only problem with this place was it was so calm and peaceful that I had no excuse to not get work done on the boat.  And so I made strides with my list of projects but not before taking an early morning dingy ride across the channel to Orr's Island where, after tying up at the dock of the Salt Cod Cafe, I would climb the ramp to the place that hunger and satisfaction came to start the new day.  Not only were the people about as nice as nice can be, but the Maine Blueberry Muffins were to die for.  I would take my coffee and muffin to the deck overhanging the water to watch the lobstermen bringing their fresh catch to the dock of the local waterside restaurant.  The scene was quintessential Maine.  I stayed in Harpswell Harbor longer than expected, for obvious reasons, then made my way to another beautiful island anchorage where I got invited onto a Grand Banks 52' yacht for coffee, then drinks, then fresh lobster salad, then more drinks.  He, Hungarian and she Australian were starting their adventure of living on the boat full time.  They had so many questions about life on the water and entertained me with stories of their youth that were fascinating and often heartbreaking.  I hope I run into them again.  Today, I'm in Gloucester, MA.  As I was coming over from Isle of Shoals yesterday, I caught a glimpse of a seal, fish in mouth and a guilty look on his face.  He was right next to a lobster pot and I know the lobstermen use that same fish for bait in their traps.  Bad seal.  I'll soon pick my lovely wife, Kim, up from the train station as she joins me in exploring several other harbors but not before I dive on Jack's sailboat to clean his running gear(propeller and shaft) of growth and barnacles. Jack is a new friend that I met in one of the harbors I anchored in.  He's from Holland but now lives on his boat full time in the Caribbean.  He has the greatest accent though I must admit, there are times I'm not quite sure what he said. The water is too cold up here for him but it's to my liking so I'll get the underside of his boat ready to make the long trip south.  This trip along Maine's coastline was on my bucket list and it has not disappointed.

Going Through Life In A Fog

So there I was...coming out of Gloucester at 6 a.m. and entering into the Annisquam River, once I woke up the bridge tender with a couple blasts of my horn so he would raise the small drawbridge.  This beautiful 4.5 mile river allows the mariner to cut through Cape Ann on the Massachusetts coastline saving many miles of travel if you had to go around.  Halfway through, the mild fog became heavy to where a couple hundred feet was all I could see ahead of me.  Making it to the end of the river I pulled to one side of the channel, dropped an anchor and decided to wait this out with another cup of coffee.  In about a half hour I could see a couple hundred yards ahead so I set a course for the Isle of Shoals, a group of islands about 6 miles off the coast of Portsmouth, NH and Kittery, ME.  On the way I had several sightings of Pilot Whales.  Isle of Shoals looked like all those pictures you see of Maine.  There is a large retreat center on one of the islands that allowed me to bring my dingy to their docks to explore the island as well as their facilities.  They had the best ice cream in the snack shop.  About three days and I was off for Portland, ME and Casco Bay where it resides.  Had a Pilot Whale surface right in front of me on the way and a seal popped his head out of the water and watched me pass by shortly after.  About 10 miles off of Cape Elizabeth, ME the fog came in with a vengeance, so I never saw the cape, nor did I see any of the many islands I had to weave through as I made my way up several miles into Casco Bay to where I predetermined to anchor.  With about 200 ft visibility I had a close call with a large fishing trawler that came out of the fog fast and furious.  Adrenalin is good.  Once close to the anchorage, the fog lifted and the beautiful Maine coastline came into view making the 7 hour trip worth it.  Dingied into the town dock and walked up the hill to find this sweet little general store advertising "Fresh Native Ice Cubes" for sale.  I'm definitely in Maine.   

The Perfect Norm

So there I was...moving at a good clip through the waters of the Cape Cod Canal.  This canal is about seven miles long and effectively severs Cape Cod from mainland Massachussets and saves a mariner about 135 miles it would take to go around the Cape on the outside.  If you go through with the right tide and wind direction, it is a pleasure.  If you attempt the opposite of this you will have a very bad day.  Once I exited the canal into Cape Cod Bay I headed north on my way to Boston.  The seas were smooth all the way into Boston Harbor where I finally dropped anchor off the shores of the South Boston Yacht Club.  After dingying up to their dock I crashed the yacht club for a drink.  One thing tough about this anchorage is it is in the landing pattern for a lot of the planes coming into Logan Airport.  Very low, very loud.  So, early next morning I was out of there.  Continuing north, I slipped into Gloucester Harbor in the a.m. and found an excellent anchorage deep in the harbor where all the stores and facilities were.  Barely got the dingy in the water when I took note of a big 70+ ft multi-story yacht  dropping the lines from a mooring nearby preparing to leave.  There is this very handy and expensive addition on some boats called a bow thruster.  It is basically two large holes that are cut out on the left (port) and right (starboard) sides of the front (bow) of the boat that is underwater.  A fiberglass tunnel connects these holes together and a motor turns one or two propellers within this tunnel to create thrust that moves the front (bow) from side to side without the boat having to move forward.  I have one and it is extremely handy when approaching or leaving a dock.  You never use the thruster when a line is in the water.  The yacht in this story had a very big bow thruster that sucked the just dropped lines into the blades, jamming the thruster and eating the lines.   The massive boat was now hanging by the bow thruster and chewed up lines in a stiff wind.  This had the potential of being a very costly mistake.  I dingied over and suggested the guy drop me a line to connect them with the mooring again and after donning snorkel gear and a knife the guy dove from my boat as I assisted him in getting the bow thruster clear of line.  Once fixed, away they went with a lesson learned.  Talked to a nearby boat about what happened and that led into me being invited over to their boat for a most delicious dinner that night.  My brother joined me the next day for a short overnight visit and we added a few calories at the waterside restaurants that you get to by boat.  We poked around this working harbor, one of the oldest in the United States, where the true story "The Perfect Storm" that was made famous in book and film was based.  Something new and different, and sometimes perfect, every day.  But to me, this is just the norm. 

Friends...Old & New

 So there I was...getting ready to pull anchor and make my way out of the Mystic River and onto Block Island.  While I was in Mystic I managed to catch up with old friends that stopped by my boat one evening and have breakfast with some other old friends at Carson's, my favorite breakfast place, in Noank, CT.  Went through a wicked squall early one morning that killed a guy on shore when a tree limb dropped on his car.  This happened the day after I avoided the very disturbed ex-Hartford cop that was loudly ranting as he motored his sailboat by me after being arrested for the third time a couple days before.  I read he was arrested again once he got to New London harbor.  Spent a couple hours on a Paceship 26, the same sailboat make and size I used to own, moored near where I was anchored.  The owner, Jim, was a canvas guy and had taken this boat down the intra-coastal waterway to Florida.  Finally, I stopped and spent some time with another couple I know that own the most beautiful deep green tugboat docked in Mystic.  After a tour of the boat and a few stories exchanged it was time to leave for Block Island.  Dropped anchor in Great Salt Pond (Block Island) only to realize that I was right next to another old friend of mine. Rob used to service the elevators in the library I worked at.  He and his wife were gracious enough to invite me on their sailboat for dinner(s), coffee and a bit of storytelling.  Coming back from my early morning dingy run to shore for coffee, I came across another couple I'd gotten to know from two of my previous cruises.  I'd met them before out on Long Island and as always enjoyed catching up on our adventures.  She has been kiteboarding for years and every time I talk to her I get excited about trying it.  Two days ago I stopped to talk to a couple that had a 34' Mainship trawler, just like mine, and got caught up in a trawler tour with other owners of like boats where we dingied from one to the other, including mine, to see how each had customized.  It was late and dark before the last dingy made his way back to his own trawler.

Floating...finally!

So there I was...watching Eventide being lowered into the waters of the Connecticut River after more than a year and a half sitting on dry ground while I removed the entire upper helm station, cut off the top fiberglass, dug out all the saturated balsa coring, put new layers of fiberglass, balsa coring, more fiberglass, even more fiberglass, two part fairing compound, two part primer and deck paint.  Then the upper helm station was painted with the most expensive two part paint I hope I will ever have to buy and after being craned back onto the top of the boat was fastened with some 50 screws and bolts that went into epoxy that I had poured into oversized holes that I had drilled in the newly fiberglassed floor.  If this written description feels long and drawn out, you should have been there for the real thing.  I have never sweat, itched, ached, or felt so tired in all my life.  Now she (Eventide) was dipping into the element she was made for and alot like childbirth, so I'm told, the horrors of getting her to this point were a fleeting memory.  NOT.  I'm still tired!  I still ache!  I did stop itching...and I'm out here floating again where the stories are made and found.

Lake Tashmoo

So there I was...pulling into the narrow opening between two break walls on the south shore of Martha's Vineyard taking note of Diane Sawyer's house off to the right a couple hundred yards down the beach.  As we continued along the tight channel into Lake Tashmoo there were people standing in knee deep water only twenty feet from our boat making me think twice about trying this harbor out.  Eventually the channel widened out and we found plenty of water to drop our anchor in this quiet and pristine harbor.  After landing the dingy at the towns convenient dock, we hiked the mile into Vineyard Haven where amenities were in abundance.  After purchasing a clamming license Kim and I retraced our steps back to the dingy and made our way to the shallows of the harbor at low tide.  There we would perform the little twisting motion, while standing with weight on the heels of our feet, until we felt that familiar bump buried in the sand.  Bending down to dig this bump up would reward you with either a clam or a quahog, both worth eating.  After filling our bucket we would head back to Eventide to put our catch in a mesh bag and tie it in the water off the swim platform so these bi-valve mollusks could naturally clean the sand from the inside of their shells.  Later we steam them by the dozen, dipping them in melted butter to complete the experience.  Taking a harbor tour in the dingy, we meet an architect who has lived on his boat for many years and now found himself in Lake Tashmoo.  He tells us that just about an hour before sunset we should take our dingy to the end of the harbor, tie it to an overhanging tree limb and hike several hundred yards along a dirt path to enjoy an outdoor Shakespearean Theater.  For a small fee, we sit on a terraced hillside in the middle of the woods, enjoying a bottle of wine and hors d'oeuvres, as we watch an amazing performance, sans electronics or lights, by professional theater actors from New York and Boston.  After offering a standing ovation, we make our way back to the dingy with the last bits of daylight.  We motor our way through the many moored and anchored boats to where Eventide is waiting, promising to rock us to sleep in this wonderful place. 

Anniversary

So there I was...celebrating 32 years of marriage with my best friend last week.  As we reminisced over dinner that night I could still feel the fear, as if it were just yesterday, watching her father walk her down the isle with a shotgun in his hand.  We had little in common when we first met but over the years her dreams have become mine and mine hers.  In our early years together she soon realized that I could not get enough time "messing about in boats" and adventures would become a norm.  Many would have run the other way, or at least distance themselves from the insanity, but not Kim.  If it was important to me, it was important to her.  She was, and is, such a giver with enthusiasm to top it off.  She was right there with me rappelling down that hundred foot cliff in Missouri, motorcycling across Oklahoma in wicked thunderstorms, hiking to the top of Tuckerman's Ravine on Mt. Washington, NH in two feet of snow for our fifteenth anniversary, hoping out of a Jacuzzi in bathing suits to throw ourselves into a Colorado snowbank (just because) and so many boating experiences when we thought we might lose it all.  As I prepare for another adventure on Eventide this summer it is Kim going out of her way to make sure I have this opportunity.  There is no better wife, mother, friend.

Close Call

So there I was...too weak to stand, crawling on my hands and knees from the cockpit of Eventide into the main cabin.  A few years ago a hurricane was making its way up the east coast bent on hitting New England.  Many boats had been pulled out of the water and placed safely ashore in expectation of the very high winds and waves expected to hit the Mystic, CT area.  Several boats that were moored next to me headed up nearby rivers to get some protection inland.  I looked at this as a great adventure.  To ride out the storm on my mooring, a 1,200 pound train wheel and axle securely planted offshore at the mouth of the Mystic River, and feel what it's like to be in the middle of all the action.  By late morning the winds began to increase as I put the finishing touches on all the extra lines I had attached to every available cleat on the boat with an abundance of chafing gear to keep them from wearing through once the waves got crazy.  As I looked around there was nobody anywhere to be seen on the remaining boats near me.  After preparing their boats they had headed for shore.  I was taking lots of pictures as the storm grew in intensity, fascinated by the incredible forces knocking my boat around,  like it was a mere toy.  Then several boats broke away from their moorings, one almost ramming me on its way to crashing onto the rocks at shore.  This was all quite an adrenaline rush and I was thinking that I was glad I got to have a front seat to this spectacle when something happened that I didn't expect.  I got seasick.  As the storm churned it's worst with no end in sight I relinquished my lunch, then breakfast, then yesterdays dinner to the sea from the aft rail of the cockpit.  Though I had no more to give, my stomach had obviously missed the memo.  Eventually, from the many hours I'd spent in the strong winds and my drained physical condition, my core temperature and hydration were getting to dangerous levels as I started shaking uncontrollably.  No longer able to stand, I fell to the floor of the cockpit keeping my eyes shut to stop the dry heaving that refused to cease.  Knowing I was in real trouble here with no one able to get to me in these conditions, I crawled, eyes closed, into and through the main cabin getting tossed onto my side several times from the violent jerking of the boat straining against the mooring lines as one huge wave after another made contact with Eventide.  Finally making it to the V-berth I flopped on my bunk and blindly started pulling anything my hands could reach on top of me to hold in the heat.  After about two hours I finally stopped shaking though the storm raged on for many more hours.  By next morning friends came to check on their boats and gave me a ride to shore, beaten up but still in one piece.  And boy was I hungry.

Thinning The Jellyfish

So there I was...cruising from Martha's Vineyard to Newport several years ago when I spotted a fin in the distance from my vantage point on the upper helm station of Eventide.  It initially looked like the dorsal fin of a large shark but as Kim and I got closer we could see that the fin was flopping back and forth.  Either a very sick shark or something else.  Turns out it was something else, namely a Mola Mola, commonly called an Ocean Sunfish.  These fish weigh in at around 2000 lbs, look like a massive pancake laying on it's side at the surface, have huge eyes and a small mouth for eating it's primary diet of jellyfish.  As we approached, I thought the sound of our engine would cause the Sunfish to dive but as I idled up to within 3 feet of it, it just lay there looking at us with that big eye and flopping it's fin as if waving.  A friendly fish that feeds on the dreaded jellyfish.  How good is that?  Speaking of jellyfish, one of the most feared of this species, though not technically a jellyfish, the Portuguese Man-O-War made a rare showing that same summer as we spotted several off the coast of Martha's Vineyard.  Named after the classic Portuguese fighting ships of old, because of their similar appearance, they have a gas filled bladder that looks like a sail standing several inches above the water and about 30 ft long tentacles below.  The winds effect on the sail actually propels it through the water and if a person comes in contact with the tentacles it will not be something they forget.  Fortunately, our friendly Mola Mola will eat these guys as well.  Most years I have at least one sea turtle sighting and I'm always amazed how big they are.  And the best part, they eat jellyfish.

Flying Into Spring

So there I was...flying down into the Grand Canyon last week in a helicoptor.  As the morning sun shone off the massive walls of the canyon, creating shadows and designs on the layered rock, our aircraft gently touched down on a flat section half way between the upper rim and the base, where the river flowed.  The sheer size of this "natural wonder of the world" is what amazes most.  Hopping out of the copter, our very competent pilot told us we had about thirty minutes to explore and enjoy a picnic lunch that was laid out for us.  Impressive, to say the least.  Flying over the Hoover Dam and Lake Mead on the way to the Grand Canyon was icing on the cake.  What I noticed most, while enjoying these incredible sights, was the absence of color and life.  Everything seemed to be brown or a shade of that color.  Growing up in New England there was always such lush greens in Spring/Summer and the Fall colors are world renowned.  So much wildlife could be experienced if you sat quietly under a tree for five or ten minutes watching the forest come alive.  Or walking the beach listening to the seagulls over the roar of the waves as the Piping Plovers keep time with the surf, running and feeding as the water advances, then recedes.  I guess I'm biased to thinking this way because of where I grew up but this trip to the desert areas locked those feelings firm.  Glad I went, and it is amazing to see, but now I'm ready for Spring, which officially starts in about fifty minutes, and all the colors and life that come with it here in the Northeast.  We have a sign that hangs over our kitchen window that says, "Let It Snow".  Time to switch that to the one that says, "Let It Grow".

Working to Live or Living to Work

So there I was...tearing all the flooring out of the living room this past week.  Our 1940's home had plank sub-flooring and a very narrow top nailed oak flooring that was tired looking and had outlived its ability to be restored.  Along with this, serious squeaking would accompany every step that was made anywhere in the room.  Being one to be bothered easily by such things and not being one to sit still for very long, a plan was hatched to rip the entire floor out, down to the joists, effectively giving us a full view of the basement from the living room.  Now replaced with new glued and screwed sub-flooring panels, I await the carpet installers to finish the job and the chiropractor to put my back together again.  Kim has been asking (hinting) when I'd be ready to go live on the boat again and my son, while talking to my wife this past weekend, wondered if she should keep a tranquilizer gun around for the next time I think demolition sounds like a good idea.  I have been known to have difficulty slowing down and resting.  Projects and work always seem to be percolating in my head.  What should be there is, "who am I going to go meet for coffee" or "where should I go fishing today?"  Retirement should be more than having more time to do jobs around the house.  A card I received from some of my coworkers when I retired said that my week would now consist of six Saturdays and a Sunday.  My efforts need to start reflecting that.  May the projects become smaller and the fish stories become bigger. 

Grace Under Fire

So there I was...going through my e-mails a couple days ago and saw where the guy who bought our house in Connecticut was asking me where we bought the wide plank oak flooring found in the dining room.  While trying to remember this for him, the memory of why were picking out oak flooring came flashing back.  It started on a Friday evening about twenty summers ago when Kim, Josh and I headed down to our boat to spend the weekend on the ocean as was our habit.  That evening a teenager, who lived in the neighborhood, burglarized our home and for whatever reason set fire to it before he left.  The house was a total loss.  My son's cat died in the fire and was buried by the firemen in the backyard.  We couldn't be found until late on Sunday so we were oblivious to the whole thing for almost two days.  The fire marshall who met us at the house that Sunday evening was so kind to us while we tried to figure out what happened.  Finally realizing it was arson, the State Police got involved.  The boy was caught a week later and there is a whole other story about how we became close to his family and the healing that God did in their lives.  Miracles do happen.  Our insurance company was wonderful and with their help we started rebuilding our lives and eventually our house.  I especially remember needing to go back to work so the night before I went to Eddie Bauer and told the sales associate I needed five shirts, five t-shirts, five pairs of pants, five pairs of socks, etc.  All of the incidentals we have and take for granted had to be purchased right away for our family to function.  When the rebuilding of the house started there were so many decisions to be made quickly, including what flooring to put in the new dining room, making the next year a bit overwhelming.  Neighbors in our little town, our church and so many friends went above and beyond with their acts of kindness, leaving us with a myriad of positive memories during a stressful period in our lives.  When it was time to sell the house and leave Connecticut we chose a real estate agent we felt to be competent and trustworthy only to find out that she was the daughter of the fire marshall that helped us through that initial realization, so many years ago, that all that we owned was gone.  Through God's grace, so much more was gained.

Dirt Bikes

So there I was...coming out of one of my favorite burger places a few days ago on the shores of Lake Ontario when I heard the high pitch whine of 2 cycle engines coming from a connecting bay.  Going to investigate, I found a long curvy circular track made on the ice of the bay from the shoveled snow and orange cones set at strategic corners.  Motorized dirt bikes with studded tires, made to grip the ice, were circumnavigating the track at high speeds pushing the limits of gravity and centrifugal force.  As Kim and I sat and watched these risk-takers, I thought back to the days when I owned a Yamaha 250 Enduro dirt bike while living in Missouri.  We lived out in the country and I remember a blizzard coming through that made all the rural roads impassible.  The daughter of a friend, that lived nearby, was very sick and needed medication from a pharmacy about 10 miles away.  So he and I jumped on our dirt bikes and took off into the deep snow, crossing farms and wooded land cutting our own path to town.  Many slips, falls and challenges later we made it and returned with what his daughter needed.  I also remember the time I was navigating the bike through a wooded area that was extremely inhospitable with steep hills and dangerous drop offs.  Heavy rains had created muddy puddles everywhere and as I approached one at a good speed I guessed it to be six inches to a foot deep.  I was wrong.  As I hit the four foot deep mini pond the bike went under water as I flew off into the mud.  It took over an hour to get all the water out of the engine and carburetor but it eventually started and the only thing hurt was my pride.  The time I can picture most about owning the bike is when I would take my 18 month old son with me.  With this mammoth helmet on his head, he would sit in front of me hanging onto the handlebars as we motored out of the driveway, up the dirt roads  and into the woods with him laughing and squealing all the way.  Returning home we'd find Kim standing out front wringing her hands with nervous anticipation relieved to see that I brought her baby back in one piece.  Good times.  

Granny and Paw-Paw

So there I was...having lunch with the pastor of my church the other day and we were sharing how we found one of the greatest treasures in this life, our wives.  I was telling him that I was set up on my first and last blind date by a well meaning coworker.  Having very little money at the time and basically subsisting on macaroni & cheese,  we began our courtship with conversation over nothing more than coffee and tea.  By our next date my financial situation had not improved in the least so going hiking seemed a good idea.  She suggested hiking her families land of many acres down near the Arkansas border in southern Missouri.  When we arrived at our destination she wanted to stop by her grandparents place who owned a farm close by to introduce me.  Coming from Connecticut, I had become acclimated to the very different mid-western way of life while living in Springfield, MO but had not had much exposure to the rural farming communities.  As we approached the farm house a large man with even larger hands got up from his chair on the front porch and shook my hand with a smile and one of the heaviest southern accents I had heard.  This was Kim's Paw-Paw and she was quite proud of him.  Then it happened.  Granny walked around the corner of the house.  She was a small woman dressed in cowboy boots, cotton dress and a bonnet on her head.  She was the epitome of what I had thought a southern farmers wife would look like in story books or on TV.  As I was taking this all in, my eyes were drawn to the holster strapped around her waist holding a revolver neatly by her side.  At first I thought she must be messing with this Yankee who was so far from home, but she went on to explain how she had been shooting the snakes that were eating the eggs in the chicken coop.  Over the next several months I got quite an education from Granny and Paw-Paw as we got to know each other and they found a very special place in my heart.  Kim reminds me of Granny with her giving and upbeat spirit, playful nature and a giggle that brightens a room.  How can you not fall in love with that?

Uncle Pete

So there I was...jumping from a fire escape three stories up to grab onto the window ledge of a building.  It was a few days after the death of Lyndon Johnson who died on January 22nd 1973.  To honor the 36th President of the United States, public schools had the day off and a couple of friends and I decided to ride our bikes across the Connecticut River into Hartford.  After visiting a radio station and several stores, I told the guys I should check in on my elderly uncle who lived in an apartment building in the downtown area.  After knocking at his door and getting no answer I went out onto the fire escape and saw his window half open.  He would sometimes have to do this, even in January, because the old steam radiators in this building would pump out too much heat in certain apartments with no adjustment.  Knowing he wouldn't have left it open if he wasn't home, I leaned out to see into the apartment through the window and saw him lying face down on the floor.  Believing I could make the jump from my perch to the window ledge and acting like a youth with no sense, I made my move.  While hanging on with one arm I was able to slide the window up the rest of the way and scramble through.  He looked bad but was still breathing, though unconscious.  He had laid there for three days and was close to death according to the doctors.  Having Parkinson's Disease, he had fallen and found it impossible to even turn onto his back.  After a long hospital stay he made a full recovery and was better than ever, thanks to a new and effective drug to treat this illness.  
Sometimes, what looks like a negative can have a positive effect.  Who would have thought that several more years would be given to my Uncle Pete because a President died.  

Gyros

So there I was...watching the Today Show a couple mornings ago where they were showing a new one wheeled motorcycle going on the market soon.  The way this thing stays up is with the use of gyros.  This is the same technology that was pioneered by Dean Kamen when inventing the Segway several years ago.  Why does this factoid find itself in my blog?  Three reasons.  One...I think gyros are one of the coolest underused phenomenons of physics that I know of.   Two...They've started putting gyros in the bilges of boats under the brand name Seakeeper that can cut the rocking of a boat dramatically, even with no forward movement.
Three...Dean Kamen owns an island just off the coast of Groton, Connecticut that I used to boat  around for years when I had a mooring in the neighboring town of Noank.  The name of the island is North Dumpling and is actually part of New York though closer to Connecticut.  Years ago, during the elder Bush administration, Mr. Kamen wanted to put a wind turbine on his island to generate some energy from the winds, especially from the west, funneling down Long Island Sound.  New York would not allow this to happen for a variety of reasons.  After many legal battles, Kamen said that his island would secede from the U.S. if an agreement could not be reached.  He was friends with Bush and though I don't know about the legalities, there was some sort of agreement reached involving a non-aggression pact.  Whether legal or just a ruse, there is now a wind turbine on the island.  Kamen, in all his wit, is called Lord Dumpling and printed money for the island called dumplings.  Boating by the island you can see his navy consisting of an amphibious vehicle that can go on land and sea along with a replication of Stonehenge that Kamen says is to sacrifice the lawyers.  For the President's assistance, Kamen outlawed broccoli since Bush hated the vegetable.  It was always fun to take guests for a cruise around North Dumpling and watch their reaction as the story was told.  Thanks Dean for your work with gyros and your wonderful sense of humor.

Christmas Cruise

So there I was...pushing my 9 foot long Dyer Dhow fiberglass rowing/sailing boat onto the ice at the edge of a lake we lived on several years ago.  Kim and I were embarking on our annual Christmas Cruise, a tradition we started years earlier.  In the week before Christmas we would launch the boat from the private beach where we stored it and circumnavigate the lake looking at all the decorations and lights the residents had on their docks and houses while sipping hot chocolate that Kim poured from a thermos.  Some years were colder than others and often there was ice formed around the shoreline going out a hundred feet or more.  The center of the lake took longer to freeze as it was spring fed.  This particular year, the ice was an inch or two thick, so after Kim got in the bow of the boat I climbed in the stern giving us the required combined weight for the boat to break through the ice.  I started my little 1953 Johnson 3 horsepower engine and it would push us forward until the bow rode up on the ice and again broke through.  This scenario was repeated many times until we finally came to open water and our cruise around the lake was a grand success.  Sometimes people would wave from their yards as we passed by no doubt wondering how in the world we got out there.  Returning to our beach we would find the the narrow path of broken ice chunks we had created on the way out and followed them into shore.  Always enjoyed the challenge of the ice...if I have a strong boat.