We just spent a marvelous week on Kiawah Island near Charleston. We were staying in a sixth floor condo with a spectacular ocean view. My particular spot was a corner chair that overlooked the beach and faced the sunrise. Each morning I would greet the sun from this position, but it was not the sun that gave me the most joy.
Perhaps there was some airflow pattern around our building, or perhaps it was just habit, but each morning a pelican would drop over the roof and fly past our window. This placed him within ten feet of where I was sitting. He was followed in single file by about fifty other pelicans. Each looked me right in the eye in some sort of bird salute. Once clear of the building, they formed into a goose like v and continued up the beach gliding about 20 feet out to sea.
But apparently hunger would overcome the need to provide beauty. Pelicans do not “land”. They let go and gravity reunites them with ocean. I came to love these birds. They had attained the grace and wonder of effortless flight, but they never let it go to their heads.
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Nothing to do in Binghamton???
I’ve heard that since I was young, probably said it myself several times. So let’s take a look at our last few days.
Thursday, March 12th saw us at the Anderson Center to see the National Chinese Acrobatic team. In general they were spectacular, but specifically one young girl stood out. About the size of a minute, she walked out, grabbed a pole with one hand and did a hand stand. No great effort, she was simply facing us and blink she was facing us upside down supported by one hand on the top of a pole. She then did all sorts of moves and revolutions totally supported by that one arm. When the arm got tired, she did a one, two, three switch and flipped from being supported by her right hand to being supported by her left hand. The strength required was astronomical.
Saturday morning brought us to the events center to watch the Binghamton Bearcats defeat UMBC for a place in the NCAA Tournament. The game was exciting as Binghamton managed to turn a ten point lead into a nail biter. That night we were off to the Forum to watch the Binghamton Philharmonic put on a show entitled Celtic Fire. Nor was that our only available choice. The Hooley was being held up the street at St. Catherine’s, a private party was going on in Owego that we were invited to and several other establishments were doing shows that seemed like fun.
On a much more personal adventure, we went car shopping on Monday. We thought this might be a good time to quit supporting two cars and combine into one newer chariot. We went to a local dealer where one of Kay’s X students works. Mark Hall has always treated us very well and I have never been anything but pleased with the service. Being the revolutionary thinkers we are and ready for a gigantic change in our driving lives, we traded the two green Toyota Camrys we are presently driving, for a silver, green Toyota Camry. Talk about a walk on the wild side!
Today I went over early and helped clean up stables, water horses, halter and lead them to pasture, then ride for an hour. We rode outside for part of that time and it was glorious. I simply love being around horses. But, I would never be a good horse owner because the horse would be spoiled rotten in a short time. And one thing I have learned is that they spoil really easily. It is a lot like dealing with a room full of kindergarten kids. One slip and you have lost control. Having a twelve hundred pound unruly child is a lot worse than having a 45 pound unruly child.
So anyway, my point is Binghamton seems to have quite a bit going on. Maybe people just need to get off the fat part of their anatomy and go look for it.
I’ve heard that since I was young, probably said it myself several times. So let’s take a look at our last few days.
Thursday, March 12th saw us at the Anderson Center to see the National Chinese Acrobatic team. In general they were spectacular, but specifically one young girl stood out. About the size of a minute, she walked out, grabbed a pole with one hand and did a hand stand. No great effort, she was simply facing us and blink she was facing us upside down supported by one hand on the top of a pole. She then did all sorts of moves and revolutions totally supported by that one arm. When the arm got tired, she did a one, two, three switch and flipped from being supported by her right hand to being supported by her left hand. The strength required was astronomical.
Saturday morning brought us to the events center to watch the Binghamton Bearcats defeat UMBC for a place in the NCAA Tournament. The game was exciting as Binghamton managed to turn a ten point lead into a nail biter. That night we were off to the Forum to watch the Binghamton Philharmonic put on a show entitled Celtic Fire. Nor was that our only available choice. The Hooley was being held up the street at St. Catherine’s, a private party was going on in Owego that we were invited to and several other establishments were doing shows that seemed like fun.
On a much more personal adventure, we went car shopping on Monday. We thought this might be a good time to quit supporting two cars and combine into one newer chariot. We went to a local dealer where one of Kay’s X students works. Mark Hall has always treated us very well and I have never been anything but pleased with the service. Being the revolutionary thinkers we are and ready for a gigantic change in our driving lives, we traded the two green Toyota Camrys we are presently driving, for a silver, green Toyota Camry. Talk about a walk on the wild side!
Today I went over early and helped clean up stables, water horses, halter and lead them to pasture, then ride for an hour. We rode outside for part of that time and it was glorious. I simply love being around horses. But, I would never be a good horse owner because the horse would be spoiled rotten in a short time. And one thing I have learned is that they spoil really easily. It is a lot like dealing with a room full of kindergarten kids. One slip and you have lost control. Having a twelve hundred pound unruly child is a lot worse than having a 45 pound unruly child.
So anyway, my point is Binghamton seems to have quite a bit going on. Maybe people just need to get off the fat part of their anatomy and go look for it.
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
WINTER SUCKS!!
As a child I had a very pleasant relationship with winter. That was because I never experienced it. My mother was a tad overprotective and I was never allowed out of the house during anything resembling winter. To attend school, which was visible from my back porch, I was either driven by my Father, a wonderful time I fondly remember, or on those days he was working and not able to drive, I was sent in a taxi. In addition, I was outfitted in two pairs of pants, heavy sweater, scarf, boots and hat. Everything has a silver lining. The extra clothing prevented me from getting hurt in the beatings that occurred because I was wearing all those cloths.
Anyway, by the time I was in third grade, I had learned to get in the cab, strip off all the extra cloths and pay the driver by the time we reached the corner. I’d do a quick recon to be sure no one was looking, stash the extra cloths in the alley between the corner store and the hardware and walk to school. Or on the rare occasions a cab was not called for me, I cut through our back yard, ditched the offending cloths in back of the garage and crossed Baburchack’s yard to reach the school. At night, I simply reversed the course. If I was supposed to call a cab to return home, I walked home, donned the extra cloths and waited on the porch until someone up the street slammed a car door, and then went in the house. Shamefully, I pocketed the cab fare. But I always used it for Christmas presents or donations to charity. (There was the occasional Chocolate binge!)
The extra cloths and cabs continued throughout Junior High, but by then, I had worked out strategies that let me escape most of it. By High School, I had a paper route and was out in the winter weather quite a bit. I remember being cold, but not disgusted with the whole thing.
The four years I spent at Oneonta were so entertaining, I don’t think winter ever dampened them. There were some memorable walks from downtown back to the campus. But I would stop at St. Mary’s, then stop at the Newman Club, then stop at the Phi Delt House and finally make the big push up the hill. One Christmas vacation, we all held up going home so we could spend a couple of nights camping at our mountain top retreat. That experience convinced me Winter Camping was just nuts. But I enjoyed it.
Even our graduate study jaunts to Cortland didn’t bring on fits of hate. Secretly I enjoyed driving in horrible conditions, it was a challenge. Then I started having my children in the car and it was no longer just me in danger. That took most of the fun out of it. And when they started driving themselves—Well if you have kids you know what I mean and if you don’t you will learn.
Anyway, the very first time I truly HATED winter was a morning in February about twenty years ago. It must have been a vicious winter, and once again my car was refusing to run. As I waited for the bus, the wind just beat on me, and I remember looking back toward the house and thinking, “This just sucks. “
Each year after that, I attacked winter. I made sure I was out in it on the coldest days. I refused to be held hostage or alter my plans, but still each year would have a particular day that marked the end of my patience.
Monday was this year’s last straw. I had a cold in the head which already had me down, but I was going to go ride horses anyway. I got there, learned how to saddle and bridle the most pleasant animal you ever met, and climbed into the saddle. Riding was numbingly cold, but went well. After unsaddling, brushing and getting the horse’s jacket on, I had to take him out to a field and “turn him out.” I walked him there, opened the chained gate, gave him a last carrot and then proceeded to take five minutes re-chaining the gate because I could not get my fingers to work. At that precise moment, winter 2008 – 2009 became a total pain in the ass.
As a child I had a very pleasant relationship with winter. That was because I never experienced it. My mother was a tad overprotective and I was never allowed out of the house during anything resembling winter. To attend school, which was visible from my back porch, I was either driven by my Father, a wonderful time I fondly remember, or on those days he was working and not able to drive, I was sent in a taxi. In addition, I was outfitted in two pairs of pants, heavy sweater, scarf, boots and hat. Everything has a silver lining. The extra clothing prevented me from getting hurt in the beatings that occurred because I was wearing all those cloths.
Anyway, by the time I was in third grade, I had learned to get in the cab, strip off all the extra cloths and pay the driver by the time we reached the corner. I’d do a quick recon to be sure no one was looking, stash the extra cloths in the alley between the corner store and the hardware and walk to school. Or on the rare occasions a cab was not called for me, I cut through our back yard, ditched the offending cloths in back of the garage and crossed Baburchack’s yard to reach the school. At night, I simply reversed the course. If I was supposed to call a cab to return home, I walked home, donned the extra cloths and waited on the porch until someone up the street slammed a car door, and then went in the house. Shamefully, I pocketed the cab fare. But I always used it for Christmas presents or donations to charity. (There was the occasional Chocolate binge!)
The extra cloths and cabs continued throughout Junior High, but by then, I had worked out strategies that let me escape most of it. By High School, I had a paper route and was out in the winter weather quite a bit. I remember being cold, but not disgusted with the whole thing.
The four years I spent at Oneonta were so entertaining, I don’t think winter ever dampened them. There were some memorable walks from downtown back to the campus. But I would stop at St. Mary’s, then stop at the Newman Club, then stop at the Phi Delt House and finally make the big push up the hill. One Christmas vacation, we all held up going home so we could spend a couple of nights camping at our mountain top retreat. That experience convinced me Winter Camping was just nuts. But I enjoyed it.
Even our graduate study jaunts to Cortland didn’t bring on fits of hate. Secretly I enjoyed driving in horrible conditions, it was a challenge. Then I started having my children in the car and it was no longer just me in danger. That took most of the fun out of it. And when they started driving themselves—Well if you have kids you know what I mean and if you don’t you will learn.
Anyway, the very first time I truly HATED winter was a morning in February about twenty years ago. It must have been a vicious winter, and once again my car was refusing to run. As I waited for the bus, the wind just beat on me, and I remember looking back toward the house and thinking, “This just sucks. “
Each year after that, I attacked winter. I made sure I was out in it on the coldest days. I refused to be held hostage or alter my plans, but still each year would have a particular day that marked the end of my patience.
Monday was this year’s last straw. I had a cold in the head which already had me down, but I was going to go ride horses anyway. I got there, learned how to saddle and bridle the most pleasant animal you ever met, and climbed into the saddle. Riding was numbingly cold, but went well. After unsaddling, brushing and getting the horse’s jacket on, I had to take him out to a field and “turn him out.” I walked him there, opened the chained gate, gave him a last carrot and then proceeded to take five minutes re-chaining the gate because I could not get my fingers to work. At that precise moment, winter 2008 – 2009 became a total pain in the ass.
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