Travelogue: Southwest Florida 2

From the Dec. 8, 2009, Writer’s Almanac – Bill Bryson:

Is there anything, apart from a really good chocolate cream pie and receiving a large unexpected check in the post, to beat finding yourself at large in a foreign city on a fair spring evening, loafing along unfamiliar streets in the long shadows of a lazy sunset, pausing to gaze in shop windows or at some church or lovely square or tranquil stretch of quayside, hesitating at street corners to decide whether that cheerful and homey restaurant you will remember fondly for years is likely to lie down this street or that one? I just love it. I could spend my life arriving each evening in a new city.

Yes, it sounds lovely, doesn’t it? But we are not “at large in a foreign city” in the Bill Bryson way. No, we are on a mission to capture/create ethereal wonderment on the shell-filled beaches of Sanibel Island.

It feels and sounds foreign here. My theory is that we Southern Californians develop our own internal, highly-calibrated hygrometers. We are able to detect even the smallest changes in relative humidity at home, and when we travel to more humid places our hygrometers go bonkers. So between the partly cloudy conditions, the slight breeze, and the slow burning off of heavy-duty morning fog, I spent most of the past three days having flashbacks to previous high-humidity experiences (chiefly, Panama), and then suppressing these experiences so that I could be ‘in the moment.’

It’s an odd thing to be in a place where people are recreating and you are not. Well, the Scout is not. The Scout is, of course, doing the heavy lifting in terms of getting the job done. Sand is the enemy of the camera so scouting beaches is always a careful operation. One is grateful for a clean bench on which to put the camera case. Measures must be taken: The Scout wears high-topped boots on the beach to prevent sand getting in his shoes. His attire and equipment make it clear that he’s on a mission.

I’m in limbo between not exactly working and not exactly being on vacation. I try to be helpful with getting the job done, but there isn’t much to actually DO most of the time. So I dip my toes in the water but then worry I won’t be able to get the sand off my feet when it’s time to go shoot an interior. I’d like to go for a long walk but it’s practically impossible to know when the Scout will be ready to move on to the next location. I get bit by the bugs the locals call “noseeums” as in you ‘no see ‘um’ when they bite you.

Does it sound like I’m complaining? I’ve been dragging my feet on this post because I fear a ‘poor little rich girl’ tone. I’m at the beach in Florida, fergawshsakes. I’m staying in a hotel, eating at restaurants, seeing beautiful scenery. Yes, Dianne, we drove through Ding Darling yesterday, but the Scout insisted we do so before lunch and after a breakfast that consisted of a leftover dinner roll from the previous night. “It’ll only take an hour, ” he said. It took two.

My ankles are itchy. It’s cloudy, but it rained overnight and it’s a pleasant 63 degrees Fahrenheit this morning. I’m off to have a decent breakfast.

Travelogue: Southwest Florida

Greetings from Fort Myers, Florida. The Scout is working. Mission: Make this piece of heaven look like the piece where you want to go and spend your hard-earned cash. We are staying at the Sanibel Harbour Resort and Spa, recently changed demoted from the Preferred Hotels and Restaurants brand to being a Marriott. And by recently, I mean last Friday.

So when we splurged on room service last night, my salad that was supposed to have argula, avocado, tortilla strips and jalopeno Havarti had none of those ingredients. It did have mango, which was quite nice. Sensing an opportunity to use the recent Marriott takeover to my advantage, I called and asked that they take the salad off the bill. This mortifies the Scout, who grew up in the 50’s and thinks that I should just be thankful I got something to eat at all. I explained that I wasn’t complaining as much as simply providing feedback. Blake, the guy on the other end of the phone, agreed with me. Blake would rather hear me explain in a non-judgmental way how the salad didn’t resemble the written description in the room service menu, than hear it at high volume from an agitated person at some point in the future. I see it as a win-win. I got a free salad, and they got quality-control for $17.

I guess it’s thanks to Marriott that we’re paying only $99 a night (well, the production company is) for a room with a sunset view overlooking San Carlos Bay. This hotel isn’t on Sanibel Island proper—it’s on the last bit of land (Punta Rassa) before you get to the causeway (toll: $6 for cars) that leads to Sanibel Island.

I’m not used to the word Sanibel yet. It makes me think “Sani-flush” and then I get the jingle in my head. “Take this job and flush it, Sani-flush it chlorine clean.” Or is it “take this grime”? My guess is that I’m not remembering the jingle correctly (especially since I haven’t been able to find it on YouTube yet). It’s a riff on Take this Job and Shove It. Anyone, anyone?

In any case, along with the military, advertising’s been very, very good to me in terms of being able to see the world. Hello, Southwest Florida!

I like being in the eastern time zone. I get a little kick out of watching The Today Show live (very little when I am reminded how they do the same 8 stories over and over). The fashion segment, the diet segment, the cooking segment, the parenting segment, the celebrity hawking segment. Look, there’s Bill Cosby! He’s promoting Bill Cosby Presents the Cosnarati: State of Emergency. Seems the comic/educator is trying to get his message out via hip hop. You may be a tad preachy, Mr. Cosby, but I appreciate your positivity.

It’s cloudy here in Florida this morning. The Scout is still asleep—though he did roll over and ask “What’s this obsession with Sani-flush?” because he heard me listening to this (in which animation is referred to as “time lapse”) and this (Dirty toilet! Dirty toilet!).

Photo credit: Trip Advisor user Greeneview.

More to follow. We’ll be here all week.

Comfort

The milieu in which I grew up made it clear that some people were predestined to be more successful than others. It was subtle message. It was complex, having roots in things like the pitfall of pride (i.e., if you’re proud of your accomplishments, you may be stealing glory that belongs to God). Being prideful was one of the worst sins. Echo: What makes you think you are better than anyone else?

In the smoldering aftermath of the hottest period of women’s lib, and my dad said things like, “Women shouldn’t drive or vote.” (He now claims it was a tongue-in-cheek statement.) I also grew up on a couple of military bases overseas—places where hierarchy is paramount, where knowing your place and staying in it is key to survival.

I could write more paragraphs like the ones above but I just read that our eyes go in an “F” pattern when reading content on line, and you may already be scanning this. (God forbid that I should be a boring writer!) That’s why I like to throw photos in:

This year, I did something out of my comfort zone. I knew that it was important to have a Lakenheath High School reunion this year, and I knew if I didn’t plan it, it wouldn’t happen. So I did it.  I planned a reunion in San Antonio, Texas—a place I had never been.  The reunion was a success.  Sure, I learned some lessons, and there are things I would do differently next time.  But overall, everyone had a great time.

I had helpers who signed on at the beginning and dropped out.  I had other helpers who weren’t there at the beginning but did magnificent work—taking care of some of the important stuff like name tags and t-shirts.  I spent oodles of time on Facebook, friending fellow LHS alums, then carefully adding their name, class year, and contact info to the big list of All Lancers Ever Since the Beginning of Time (which in this case is 1951).

Here’s one example of what made all the work completely worthwhile:

Meet Donna and Leslie (aka Zo).  Donna posted this photo on Facebook with the caption:

“I have waited thirty years for this hug.”

RAF Lakenheath (map) was our temporary home…a place into which we were plopped down through no choice of our own.  How can a military base in a foreign country be home?  These days,  that ‘home’ is fortress, and most of us can’t enter it.  As they say in the old wartime movies, our papers are not in order.  Only a handful of us have a military ID that would allow us access to our old stomping ground.  Were I to show up at the main gate waving my American passport and proclaiming my previous status as Junior Class Secretary, the military police would escort me out and have a good laugh about it over beers after work.

So where is my home?  Is it that military island sitting in the middle of East Anglia?  Is it the country that surrounds the military island?  Is it the house I’ve lived in for the past 27 years?  I can’t exactly say that I am *from* anywhere.  The place I was born is not the place I grew up.  The places I grew up are far from where I now live.

My home is the people who share my story.  We are now scattered all over the US, even all over the world.  Every so often we get together and celebrate how lucky we were to live in England.  We share memories, we sing jingles from British adverts, we dance like teenagers.  We hug each other after thirty years—in San Antonio, or Washington D.C., or Las Vegas, or whatever city it happens to be.  We are at home when we are with each other.

We carry each other in our hearts when we are not.

Happy Thanksgiving to all, and a special shout out to everyone who showed up in San Antonio.  See you next year in Boston.

 

 

A Case of the What Ifs

This came up over coffee at Zeli:  A friend of mine was at a formal event recently. He was sitting with a prominent, accomplished family–dad, mom, and grown daughter. The daughter had gone to exclusive private schools, then on to college and graduate school. She was beautiful too. This friend of mine wondered what his life would be like if he had grown up in this family instead of his own—how much farther would he have gotten in life? Would he have been able to accomplish more had he not been born into his own highly dysfunctional family (so dysfunctional that he spent time in a children’s home when his parents were unable to care for him).

I had a very strong reaction to this line of thinking. “Sounds like a case of shoulda, woulda, coulda,” I said. “We don’t have any control over the family we’re born into.  It’s much more important to me to just keep putting one foot in front of the other.”  I illustrated this by marching my forefinger and middle finger in a line across the table.

My friend persisted.  “Every year on my birthday, it all comes back to me.  The hurt, the loss.”

We agreed on the idea that with some things in life, there is a permanent sense of loss.  There are losses that are deep and irrevocable.  These losses produce scars that may fade but never really go away.  Sometimes these scars get re-aggravated.  We may even have a propensity to get ourselves into situations that lead to the re-aggravation of these scars.  Or we may be aware of our scars and learn how to take care of them and protect them.  But they remain.

Still, I think it is fruitless, pointless, and a waste of energy to think about what might have been.  Besides, that prominent family may look perfect on the outside, but I’m sure they’ve got their own peccadillos, losses, dramas and tragedies just like everyone else.

Do you think back on what might have been?  Ponder how things could have been different (better) for you had you had a different (better) childhood?  Or (like me) are you just trying to make do with what you’ve got and maintain some forward momentum, no matter how small the steps might be?

PS The Nutty Jazz show was outstanding.  I’ve seen them several times now and they are consistently great.  Here’s what my friend Kevin Carr said about them:

This just in – Nutty ROCKED The Sandbox for their final show there Wednesday night 10/21!  Play was delayed at first on account of game (final Dodgers/Phils face-off), so the jazz started late, and it being a sports bar, everybody was bummed about LA’s loss.  A real tribute to just how great this band is: eight out of eight tables plus the patrons at the bar all stayed for Nutty’s first set…and loved it!  These cool cats made everyone forget their sorrows and just enjoy great classic rock meeting great classic jazz in a most NUTTY way!

Nutty will be at the Hip Kitty in Claremont on Saturday, November 21 at 8:00 pm.  If you want to carpool from Pasadena, let me know.

Nutty Jazz Tonight

The Sandbox is discontinuing their Wednesday night jazz series.  Major bummer!

That means tonight is your last chance to experience Nutty in the OC…at least for the forseeable future.  Let me know if you want to carpool.

Baseball

For those not keeping score at home, the Los Angeles Dodgers are the National League West champions. There are multiple reasons for this, and I’ll leave it to my betters to do the heavy-lifting on the analysis. For my part, I’ll offer up just three things: 1) The Dodgers bullpen showed up; 2) There was lots of nice hitting by lots of players; 3) Joe Torre’s continued used of Bigelow Green Tea. I think we’re all clear on the healing, restorative power of tea.

I’ve let this sleeping blog lie recently as I’m spending gobs of time organizing my high school reunion. It has taken a lot more time than I thought, due in large part to how Facebook works/doesn’t work. (One example, FB doesn’t allow you to attach a file to an e-mail sent through their system. So I couldn’t send the registration form through FB…had to do it through regular e-mail. Extra step x 50 people x other stuff = A Lot of Time.)

Back to baseball. I was at Dodger Stadium a couple of weeks ago and snapped these photos with my trusty cell phone cam. I was sitting behind home plate in the section with all the scouts from other teams. The Cardinals guy was sitting next to me, and in the row behind there was a guy with a MASSIVE, diamond-encrusted, NY Yankees ring. I *had* to take a picture.

I love it that men celebrate their victories with huge diamond rings. This one was obtained in 1999, when Joe Torre’s Yankees won the World’s Series.

Two kids (brothers) were sitting next to me. They said they’d sneaked down from the Top Deck, no mean feat at Dodger Stadium. The wearer of the ring offered them a chance to try it on.

Brothers with ring

That’s the owner of the ring in the pale peach on the right hand side of the frame. Nice guy. Very comfortable with complete strangers/Dodger fans oogling his bling. He’s now with the Giants.

I love it that these brothers made it down to field level and got to see this ring up close and personal. I love it that the owner of the ring was so simpatico. I love baseball.

Wake up, Florida!

It’s not uncommon, but it is tragic.  A person is wrongfully convicted of a crime and sent to prison for decades.  It happened to Bill Dillon, a guy who went to my high school.

I wasn’t friends with Bill but I remember him very well (and his older sister, Debbie).  He was a gangly kid with a really great smile and a friendly demeanor.  If you needed 35 cents to buy french fries in the school cafeteria. Bill seemed like the kind of guy that would lend it to you and not bug you about paying it back.

In 1981, Bill was wrongfully convicted of first degree murder and sent to prison for life.

The good news is that Bill was released from prison late last year thanks to DNA evidence and the good work of the folks at the Innocence Project of Florida (details of the case here).

The bad news is that he spent almost 28 years in prison and the State of Florida is holding up his compensation because according to state law, the exonerated are eligible for compensation only if they have no prior record.  Here’s an op-ed piece by Marshall Frank suggesting that ‘prior record’ should be restricted to acts of violence.

There must be some politician in Florida (or higher up) who would like to mount the white horse and make things right in this case.  Unmerited suffering for decades due to wrongful conviction is a tragic miscarriage of justice, and the least Florida can do is follow the example of Texas (words I thought would never come out of my mouth—but Texas has comprehensive compensation plan) and pay Bill for robbing him of the life he deserved to live as a free man.  Money doesn’t restore the years lost.  At the same time, financial security provides a necessary foundation for “life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.”

Bill’s release day, with his sister Debbie.  November 2008.

Bill Dillon and his sister Debbie.

Station Fire from Mount Wilson Cam

Thanks to the Militant Angeleno for the heads up via Facebook. Here are a couple photos of the Station Fire from 7 September 2009 snatched from the Mount Wilson cam.

2:51 am

3:13 am

Did you notice that little flare up in the lower right? I hope it’s minding its own business.

Fueling Up

I got out of the car and could see ashes floating in the air. I went into Trader Joe’s and there they were, five firefighters hovering around the prepared salads section. One of them was reading the list of ingredients on the back of the package. “Are they going to kill me with the sodium?” he wondered aloud.

They were all over 6 feet tall, handsome, trim and fit. I stared and couldn’t figure out how to say thank you. I wanted to slip them each a $20.  (So tacky…I know.  But wouldn’t you like a tip like that?)

I didn’t say anything.  Until now.  Thank you, Fremont Fire Department.  Thank you.  Thank you.

Putting out (information about) the fires

Re: The Station Fire.  Fire update 6:05 am, 2 Sept. 2009: Chief Mike Bryant from the fire department says:  If the fire has a personality, the descriptor for today is (once again) “cranky.”  The west end of the fire is above Little Tujunga.  The east end of the fire is west of Chilao.  $21 million has been spent fighting the fire, which has now covered 150,000 acres.

Mt. Wilson update: It’s in good shape.  Firefighters were able to stay there overnight.  Class A foam and retardant has been deposited in the area, along with the 7,500 gallons of gel that was dropped yesterday.

Evacuation update: That information comes from the LA Sheriff.  Bryant didn’t have the latest.

Getting accurate information out to people about the fires hasn’t been the smoothest, or so I hear from Altadenablog (who has done a wonderful job).   The LA Times has been doing a great job, but Sparks and Butterflies bemoans local television coverage and says she’s gotten the best and most accurate information via Facebook.

On the local blogging front: Frazgo did a round up of locals over at Los Angeles Metblogs (which has some good coverage overall).  Deb over at Altadena Above It All has several info posts and some great photos.  Karin has been blogging photos and running descriptions of what she’s seeing from her vantage point in Altadena—here’s a sample.  Petrea at Pasadena Daily Photo posted a fire photo round-up (but didn’t mention my post—no hard feelings, I promise!).

Except for Frazgo, the bloggers mentioned above aren’t particularly active on Facebook, so those of you watching the fire via Facebook may have missed them.  And you non-FB folks may have missed some good stuff too.

Straddling the Facebook vs Rest of Interwebs is the Pasadena PIO, who is keeping the City of Pasadena’s web site updated (along with her blog).  She has also been using Facebook to get info out to local residents.

So in the Venn diagram of life, I offer my Facebook fire coverage round up, with thanks to all who have posted information there:

KChristieH has done several fire-related post with great photos and info.  She points us to the LA Times’ updated interactive map of the fires.  She also pointed us to InciWeb and to this site with many LA County area emergency scanners.

From Susan:  She has a thing for time lapse movies of the fire.  A link to the Mount Wilson Tower Cam (come back soon!).  The Firefigher Blog.  A list of fire stations accepting food and water donations.  Gargantuan image of the fire area from space courtesy of NASA.

From Monica Hubbard: A link to Mount Wilson Observatory.

From Eye Level Pasadena: A link to CBS News on Ustream (As I watch this live feed, I have the window open.  It’s like smell-o-vision!)  Jill also links to Kolby Kirk’s map of the fires.

So thanks to people posting info on Facebook, I feel like I’ve learned a lot about the primary sources of information in a disaster like this.  Perhaps the Pasadena PIO will hire me…

Photo from Saturday, 29 August 2009, 11:00 pm.  Taken from just south of Woodbury between Lincoln and Fair Oaks.  I know, I know—I need a tripod.