Perfect Spring Day
Last Tuesday was nearly a perfect day. Now the truth is I played hooky from the job I was supposed to be doing. I promised to finish Zoey’s changing table by Saturday. I finished it Saturday on time, but Tuesday that was not a sure thing. And still it was just to perfect outside to stay in the shop and cut wood.
So, we went to work opening the pond and stream. Last Spring, a dear friend gave me five little gold fish that were destined for sad endings if I didn’t take them. I figured we would throw them in the pond and they would have a good last summer. Despite assurances they would make it through the winter, last fall I gave the three surviving fish a ceremonial kiss good by (metaphorically speaking) and closed the pond. Winter was winter, so the pond froze, yuck blew in and I expected to find fish bones on opening day. To my vast surprise, I was greeted with three little fishy smiles.
We pumped about 30 gallons of pond water into a gigantic container, netted the fish and added them to the container, then pumped the remaining 700 gallons onto the lawn, pulled the plants from the pond and cleaned them. Then - the dredging of dead leaves, pine needles, enough algae to power the car for a year and a lot of unidentifiable yuck. While I slaved over the pump, Kay scrubbed and cleaned the stream. Within an hour, we were able to install the pumps, reinstate the plants, refill the pond with clean water, add organic yuck remover and chuck the fish back in. Once the statuary and lights were back in place, we added chairs to the patio, wine to our stomachs and joy to our hearts. April 6th seems pretty early to be soaking up the sun and relaxing around the pond, but it makes for a near perfect day.
Sunday, April 11, 2010
Friday, April 2, 2010
As a Franciscan, I am somewhat ashamed to admit that each year we rent a spectacular condo at the ocean. But I defy anyone to sit in the predawn darkness surrounding “my” chair and not feel God sitting in the chair next to me. And, as a Franciscan, I am supposed to see the Gospels all around. What better place?
Each morning, at first light, a flight of Pelicans drops over the roof of this building. I sit less than ten feet from their passing, and then as they glide in perfect beauty, Like Peter and the boat, they seem to remember they can’t really fly, and they plummet into the water, much as I envision Peter hitting the drink when he realized he couldn’t walk on water.
The last morning we were there, I arose even earlier than usual. As I settled myself to await the rising of the sun, three or four miles up the beach, a lone automobile drove up and down the beach, showing first his headlights and then his taillights. I thought about how that person, whatever his mission, had no idea that miles away he was being watched. How often do we pass unknowingly through someone else’s life, with no idea what effect we have on them? A smile, a kind word or conversely, a dismissal or an impatient moment all have effects. I have come to believe that in the end, those things matter. So, I said a silent prayer that my mystery person would have a safe day and would discover a moment of joy that day.
When the sun finally did appear, when the pelicans performed their morning ritual, when the outside world could no longer be ignored, I rose from my window chair for the last time this year and prepared for the return to home and all the joys that brings.
Each morning, at first light, a flight of Pelicans drops over the roof of this building. I sit less than ten feet from their passing, and then as they glide in perfect beauty, Like Peter and the boat, they seem to remember they can’t really fly, and they plummet into the water, much as I envision Peter hitting the drink when he realized he couldn’t walk on water.
The last morning we were there, I arose even earlier than usual. As I settled myself to await the rising of the sun, three or four miles up the beach, a lone automobile drove up and down the beach, showing first his headlights and then his taillights. I thought about how that person, whatever his mission, had no idea that miles away he was being watched. How often do we pass unknowingly through someone else’s life, with no idea what effect we have on them? A smile, a kind word or conversely, a dismissal or an impatient moment all have effects. I have come to believe that in the end, those things matter. So, I said a silent prayer that my mystery person would have a safe day and would discover a moment of joy that day.
When the sun finally did appear, when the pelicans performed their morning ritual, when the outside world could no longer be ignored, I rose from my window chair for the last time this year and prepared for the return to home and all the joys that brings.
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Biltmore
We came to Asheville to see the Biltmore Estate. We had gone to Newport several years ago and toured those homes. I use the word homes in a ridiculous sense; because nothing about them was “homey” They were ostentatious, cold and just silly, especially as summer “cottages”. I expected Biltmore to be more of the same. Something to be seen, more as a museum, than a home. Oddly, I found it quite different.
Not that the place is particularly nice. It is gigantic, spectacular and well worth seeing, but not at all a comfortable place. But – the story is really compelling.
George Vanderbilt was the youngest of three sons born into a very, very wealthy family. Apparently the older boys went into the family business of getting richer. George took his 10 million ( in 1895 dollars) and built a house. He hired the best people to design it and the gardens, and the best craftsmen to complete the job. On the surface, it is about the power of money. But as the story unfolds, something else emerges. George first built homes for all the workers to live in during the construction. Then every detail was aimed at making Biltmore a place where visitors would have every need met quickly and without fuss.
Biltmore had not only an indoor swimming pool of great size, at a time few homes in America had electric lights, the swimming pool had underwater electric lights. It had a full gym in case his guests wished to exercise, stables, tennis, indoor bowling alleys and a kitchen area that would put most major hotels to shame.
The establishment employed about 30 people at all times. And here in lies a real look at George Vanderbilt's soul. A young girl, who had recently lost both Mother and Father, was hired. Barely 15, she found herself carrying a large tray of food, all on very expensive china, to the formal dining room. Young and terrified, she dropped the tray, smashing china, scattering food all over. George leaped to his feet and ------ helped the young girl pick up the pieces. For many years there after he gently teased her about their first meeting.
When the house was built, George was a bachelor, but he shortly found someone willing to marry one of the richest men in America. Yet, despite all the tendencies to make fun, the marriage was deliriously happy. Within a few years, Biltmore had a little girl, 5 St. Bernard’s and up to 30 guests any time the Vanderbilts were in residence.
George was generous to a fault. For example, the local minister would be invited to Biltmore for Lunch once a year. He would write up an account of all the expenses the parish had incurred during the year in an account book and would leave the book on the seat of his carriage. When he returned from a lovely Lunch, at which no money was discussed, he would find the book contained a check that covered all the years’ expenses.
George was considered one of the best read men in America and he constantly shared his space with men of words. In the entire house, I found only two rooms I loved. One was a central sun room that was open and bright and filled with life, and the other was the library. This room is two stories tall, with floor to ceiling bookcases surrounding the room. A circular stair takes you to the second tier balcony that surrounds the room and gives access to the second floor shelves. What I found remarkable was a comment George once made. “ There should always be books and a comfortable chair to read it in.” Well, he made the books available, but I could not see a comfortable chair anywhere in the house.
Which made me think. With all his money and effort, in 1895, George was unable to build a “comfortable” home. Biltmore was notoriously hard to heat. Winter guests would wear woolen everything under their formal attire and still have trouble manipulating forks with frozen hands. The furniture was torturous by our standards. While the food was excellent it took a gigantic staff working from 6AM until 9PM everyday to produce it.
I think about my home. We take the heat for granted, of the 8 chairs in our living rooms, 7 are guaranteed to lull you asleep within 10 minutes and modern cooking appliances make gourmet cooking within the reach of even – well, me.
We came to Asheville to see the Biltmore Estate. We had gone to Newport several years ago and toured those homes. I use the word homes in a ridiculous sense; because nothing about them was “homey” They were ostentatious, cold and just silly, especially as summer “cottages”. I expected Biltmore to be more of the same. Something to be seen, more as a museum, than a home. Oddly, I found it quite different.
Not that the place is particularly nice. It is gigantic, spectacular and well worth seeing, but not at all a comfortable place. But – the story is really compelling.
George Vanderbilt was the youngest of three sons born into a very, very wealthy family. Apparently the older boys went into the family business of getting richer. George took his 10 million ( in 1895 dollars) and built a house. He hired the best people to design it and the gardens, and the best craftsmen to complete the job. On the surface, it is about the power of money. But as the story unfolds, something else emerges. George first built homes for all the workers to live in during the construction. Then every detail was aimed at making Biltmore a place where visitors would have every need met quickly and without fuss.
Biltmore had not only an indoor swimming pool of great size, at a time few homes in America had electric lights, the swimming pool had underwater electric lights. It had a full gym in case his guests wished to exercise, stables, tennis, indoor bowling alleys and a kitchen area that would put most major hotels to shame.
The establishment employed about 30 people at all times. And here in lies a real look at George Vanderbilt's soul. A young girl, who had recently lost both Mother and Father, was hired. Barely 15, she found herself carrying a large tray of food, all on very expensive china, to the formal dining room. Young and terrified, she dropped the tray, smashing china, scattering food all over. George leaped to his feet and ------ helped the young girl pick up the pieces. For many years there after he gently teased her about their first meeting.
When the house was built, George was a bachelor, but he shortly found someone willing to marry one of the richest men in America. Yet, despite all the tendencies to make fun, the marriage was deliriously happy. Within a few years, Biltmore had a little girl, 5 St. Bernard’s and up to 30 guests any time the Vanderbilts were in residence.
George was generous to a fault. For example, the local minister would be invited to Biltmore for Lunch once a year. He would write up an account of all the expenses the parish had incurred during the year in an account book and would leave the book on the seat of his carriage. When he returned from a lovely Lunch, at which no money was discussed, he would find the book contained a check that covered all the years’ expenses.
George was considered one of the best read men in America and he constantly shared his space with men of words. In the entire house, I found only two rooms I loved. One was a central sun room that was open and bright and filled with life, and the other was the library. This room is two stories tall, with floor to ceiling bookcases surrounding the room. A circular stair takes you to the second tier balcony that surrounds the room and gives access to the second floor shelves. What I found remarkable was a comment George once made. “ There should always be books and a comfortable chair to read it in.” Well, he made the books available, but I could not see a comfortable chair anywhere in the house.
Which made me think. With all his money and effort, in 1895, George was unable to build a “comfortable” home. Biltmore was notoriously hard to heat. Winter guests would wear woolen everything under their formal attire and still have trouble manipulating forks with frozen hands. The furniture was torturous by our standards. While the food was excellent it took a gigantic staff working from 6AM until 9PM everyday to produce it.
I think about my home. We take the heat for granted, of the 8 chairs in our living rooms, 7 are guaranteed to lull you asleep within 10 minutes and modern cooking appliances make gourmet cooking within the reach of even – well, me.
Sunday, March 14, 2010
What could go wrong??
This was the easy week. Before we left for South Carolina, we made a list of things that needed doing. Nothing big. The computer security program needed updating, the ceiling molding in the upstairs needed to be finished and the downstairs bathtub and sink were draining slowly, but the pipes are all exposed and easy to get to. In addition we had the regular run of the mill jobs. The Toyota needed to be defused so it won’t go into overdrive, stop the mail, pay the bills, and exchange books at the Library. Time was not an issue. We were tied up with Retired Teacher’s Monday, The car needed to be repaired Tuesday morning, but I would have the rest of Tuesday, most of Wednesday and all of Thursday. That would give me Friday free for fun and Rotary. (Not that the two are not one and the same!)
I finished with the car around 11 on Tuesday, headed home and started putting in molding. Only molding requires something to attach it to. Normally you would find one stud and measure 16 inches and you would find another. In some early construction they used 12 inches or 18 inches. In our 17 foot hallway the studs are – 10, 13, 9, 21, 17 , 18, 12, 15, 11, 16, 20, 12, and 14. Note this does not add up to 204 inches because of course there are no studs at the ends of the hallway. For many years, these irregularities bothered me, now I just figure it is part of the charm of owning an old house that had previously been remodeled by a “creative” person. But it turned a simple job into a simple but long job. So most of Tuesday disappeared. But I still had time to do that short plumbing job. I pulled the pipes apart, cleaned out the drain, put it all back together, turned on the sink and found it drained easily and quickly ----- into the bathtub.
So ok, I would call the plumber, not an unusual event.
At least I could update the computer security. By the time I went to bed, our computer was completely unsecured, none of the USB ports would work , we could not download any pictures from our cameras and the mouse no longer functioned. Not a bad day in the world of disasters.
Wednesday we drove to Scoharie to attend the funeral of a dear friend’s father. He was in his nineties and had lived life exactly the way I would like to. At age 85, the family felt they needed to take his motorcycle keys away, because he was still riding it regularly. Three weeks before he died he was on a ladder with a drill repairing something. Way to go!!
So Thursday was spent getting the plumbing cleared up, the computer up and running, so that Friday morning could be spent finishing the hallway.
We leave Tuesday for the Biltmore Estate and Kiawah Island, South Carolina. We now have a laptop computer and the plan is to keep everyone informed of our travels while staying in touch. After all, What could go Wrong???
This was the easy week. Before we left for South Carolina, we made a list of things that needed doing. Nothing big. The computer security program needed updating, the ceiling molding in the upstairs needed to be finished and the downstairs bathtub and sink were draining slowly, but the pipes are all exposed and easy to get to. In addition we had the regular run of the mill jobs. The Toyota needed to be defused so it won’t go into overdrive, stop the mail, pay the bills, and exchange books at the Library. Time was not an issue. We were tied up with Retired Teacher’s Monday, The car needed to be repaired Tuesday morning, but I would have the rest of Tuesday, most of Wednesday and all of Thursday. That would give me Friday free for fun and Rotary. (Not that the two are not one and the same!)
I finished with the car around 11 on Tuesday, headed home and started putting in molding. Only molding requires something to attach it to. Normally you would find one stud and measure 16 inches and you would find another. In some early construction they used 12 inches or 18 inches. In our 17 foot hallway the studs are – 10, 13, 9, 21, 17 , 18, 12, 15, 11, 16, 20, 12, and 14. Note this does not add up to 204 inches because of course there are no studs at the ends of the hallway. For many years, these irregularities bothered me, now I just figure it is part of the charm of owning an old house that had previously been remodeled by a “creative” person. But it turned a simple job into a simple but long job. So most of Tuesday disappeared. But I still had time to do that short plumbing job. I pulled the pipes apart, cleaned out the drain, put it all back together, turned on the sink and found it drained easily and quickly ----- into the bathtub.
So ok, I would call the plumber, not an unusual event.
At least I could update the computer security. By the time I went to bed, our computer was completely unsecured, none of the USB ports would work , we could not download any pictures from our cameras and the mouse no longer functioned. Not a bad day in the world of disasters.
Wednesday we drove to Scoharie to attend the funeral of a dear friend’s father. He was in his nineties and had lived life exactly the way I would like to. At age 85, the family felt they needed to take his motorcycle keys away, because he was still riding it regularly. Three weeks before he died he was on a ladder with a drill repairing something. Way to go!!
So Thursday was spent getting the plumbing cleared up, the computer up and running, so that Friday morning could be spent finishing the hallway.
We leave Tuesday for the Biltmore Estate and Kiawah Island, South Carolina. We now have a laptop computer and the plan is to keep everyone informed of our travels while staying in touch. After all, What could go Wrong???
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Odds and Ends
When discussing the medical profession, my father would often say,“ They are just Practicing.” Boy did he have that right!!
Last November I cleaned up the last of the leaves and apparently some of the left over mold as well. Within a week I had a pretty good case of bronchitis. Not at all unusual for me – happens every fall if I am not careful. The thing runs its course ---- I lose my voice for a short time, feel awful, then feel better and life moves on. This time I got caught in a time warp. By January ----- time for the Doc.
I was given a bunch of pills, and MR. Neb. Things got better, then much worse. I would go to sleep feeling fairly good and then wake up needing a sewer snake run down my windpipe. Back to the Halls of Medicine. “ Beginning asthma, complicated by post nasal drip.” One month later, back to the Doc. This time we discovered sever bronchitis and definite asthma so bad I would need an inhaler and Advar.
In 1968 sucking white powder down my throat didn’t seem like a good idea and the idea hasn‘t improved with age. Plus I know the history of me better than anyone else.
One of my clearest memories was having croup as a kid. I would be fine, go to bed wake up unable to breath. Needless to say, this caused some commotion. Shortly the big metal humidifier was out, Vicks was on me, in me and being blown at me and I didn’t go to school the next day. Sometime in the late 50’s, I got a real mystery disease. Since only small kids got croup, it had to be a mystery disease. We went to the doctor every week for what seems like months. They did tests, ran a light bulb down my throat, even suggested mental therapy.
The whole thing turned into a bonding time with my mother. I would go to bed at 10 wake up choking at 11 or so, and then we would sit up the rest of the night watching old movies. I learned a lot about her during those weeks.
Anyway, Spring came, the disease disappeared and it didn’t return. I did have some mild bouts while teaching, but usually pretty mild.
This time around, it never got as sever, but it acted exactly like that 50’s version. But this time I had the internet and did some research. Turns out the symptoms perfectly fit chronic croup. Something young children get for no apparent reason and outgrow by the age of 6 or 7. The present cure is a series of steroid drugs.
Well, back to the present. For the first time in life I told the Doctor what we were going to do. Steroids!! She was willing to try it with the admonition that if it didn,t work we were sucking white powder. Remember three months of wheezing badly enough to wake people up? One, six tablet dose of steroids, 24 hours and no wheezing. Since I also had bronchitis, “ one step from pneumonia” I got to take the same Cipro dose given someone exposed to anthrax. But, at least for the time being I seem to be healed. That would make me the oldest croup patient in history.
When discussing the medical profession, my father would often say,“ They are just Practicing.” Boy did he have that right!!
Last November I cleaned up the last of the leaves and apparently some of the left over mold as well. Within a week I had a pretty good case of bronchitis. Not at all unusual for me – happens every fall if I am not careful. The thing runs its course ---- I lose my voice for a short time, feel awful, then feel better and life moves on. This time I got caught in a time warp. By January ----- time for the Doc.
I was given a bunch of pills, and MR. Neb. Things got better, then much worse. I would go to sleep feeling fairly good and then wake up needing a sewer snake run down my windpipe. Back to the Halls of Medicine. “ Beginning asthma, complicated by post nasal drip.” One month later, back to the Doc. This time we discovered sever bronchitis and definite asthma so bad I would need an inhaler and Advar.
In 1968 sucking white powder down my throat didn’t seem like a good idea and the idea hasn‘t improved with age. Plus I know the history of me better than anyone else.
One of my clearest memories was having croup as a kid. I would be fine, go to bed wake up unable to breath. Needless to say, this caused some commotion. Shortly the big metal humidifier was out, Vicks was on me, in me and being blown at me and I didn’t go to school the next day. Sometime in the late 50’s, I got a real mystery disease. Since only small kids got croup, it had to be a mystery disease. We went to the doctor every week for what seems like months. They did tests, ran a light bulb down my throat, even suggested mental therapy.
The whole thing turned into a bonding time with my mother. I would go to bed at 10 wake up choking at 11 or so, and then we would sit up the rest of the night watching old movies. I learned a lot about her during those weeks.
Anyway, Spring came, the disease disappeared and it didn’t return. I did have some mild bouts while teaching, but usually pretty mild.
This time around, it never got as sever, but it acted exactly like that 50’s version. But this time I had the internet and did some research. Turns out the symptoms perfectly fit chronic croup. Something young children get for no apparent reason and outgrow by the age of 6 or 7. The present cure is a series of steroid drugs.
Well, back to the present. For the first time in life I told the Doctor what we were going to do. Steroids!! She was willing to try it with the admonition that if it didn,t work we were sucking white powder. Remember three months of wheezing badly enough to wake people up? One, six tablet dose of steroids, 24 hours and no wheezing. Since I also had bronchitis, “ one step from pneumonia” I got to take the same Cipro dose given someone exposed to anthrax. But, at least for the time being I seem to be healed. That would make me the oldest croup patient in history.
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Unfinished Business
Last Lent, I took wise advise and spent the 40+ days trying to understand a virtue of choice. I settled on Forgiveness because I was most in need of that. A wonderful journey I highly recommend for anyone. The first part, why should we forgive was actually very easy. Every Religion, every ethical system, every mental health care expert agrees. It is not about the person forgiven, but about the person who forgives.
Now comes the second and hardest part. If Forgiveness is that wonderful, why is there so little of it? ( Please do not count the, “ I forgive you, but I will never let you live it down.” Forgiveness.) In fact, it took another 300 + days, and the only two reasons I can offer this now are 1} It’s Lent again and time for a new Virtue (Compassion) and 2} I promised myself to finish this piece of writing by March 1, 2010 and please forgive me, I’m going to.
That should not be interpreted as I have anything to offer in answer, because I remain as confused as ever. But I can offer two plausible explanations. Perhaps people hang on to the hate and anger because it pays off. Eckhart Tolle, in A New Earth, talks about the ego’s need to find form in constant thought. That long held grievances give meaning to the egos existence and it takes great courage and wisdom to step away from the “voice” in our head and see reality. We come to define ourselves as someone who had this done to us, or this said about us. Our ego realizes it’s greatest dream—to be noticed.
Secondly, seeing reality requires an autopsy of our lives and that can be very painful. Anger is a healthy response to immediate physical threats. If I cannot flee I may need to fight. Anger will keep me from feeling the pain when I get hit in the head. I will keep going and perhaps save my life. But long term anger is not protecting me from physical pain, so what is it protecting me from? Emotional pain. If I stop being angry, then reality will slowly emerge and I am forced to examine my responsibility in the situation. Perhaps there were kinder, better responses. That would make me partly to blame and realizing that indicates I might not be perfect. As long as I stay angry, I don’t need to face that.
I have a poster on my wall that says, “ The voyage of discovery is not about seeking new landscapes but having new eyes.” Proust.
The Amish in PA that comforted the family of the man who had killed their children, the man who reached out and healed the young adult who destroyed his son in a drunk driving accident, those who wished to include a candle for the murderer at the Front street shooting – those people had “new Eyes” and when God asks them ,” What did you do for the Least in my Kingdom?” they have a pretty good answer.
Last Lent, I took wise advise and spent the 40+ days trying to understand a virtue of choice. I settled on Forgiveness because I was most in need of that. A wonderful journey I highly recommend for anyone. The first part, why should we forgive was actually very easy. Every Religion, every ethical system, every mental health care expert agrees. It is not about the person forgiven, but about the person who forgives.
Now comes the second and hardest part. If Forgiveness is that wonderful, why is there so little of it? ( Please do not count the, “ I forgive you, but I will never let you live it down.” Forgiveness.) In fact, it took another 300 + days, and the only two reasons I can offer this now are 1} It’s Lent again and time for a new Virtue (Compassion) and 2} I promised myself to finish this piece of writing by March 1, 2010 and please forgive me, I’m going to.
That should not be interpreted as I have anything to offer in answer, because I remain as confused as ever. But I can offer two plausible explanations. Perhaps people hang on to the hate and anger because it pays off. Eckhart Tolle, in A New Earth, talks about the ego’s need to find form in constant thought. That long held grievances give meaning to the egos existence and it takes great courage and wisdom to step away from the “voice” in our head and see reality. We come to define ourselves as someone who had this done to us, or this said about us. Our ego realizes it’s greatest dream—to be noticed.
Secondly, seeing reality requires an autopsy of our lives and that can be very painful. Anger is a healthy response to immediate physical threats. If I cannot flee I may need to fight. Anger will keep me from feeling the pain when I get hit in the head. I will keep going and perhaps save my life. But long term anger is not protecting me from physical pain, so what is it protecting me from? Emotional pain. If I stop being angry, then reality will slowly emerge and I am forced to examine my responsibility in the situation. Perhaps there were kinder, better responses. That would make me partly to blame and realizing that indicates I might not be perfect. As long as I stay angry, I don’t need to face that.
I have a poster on my wall that says, “ The voyage of discovery is not about seeking new landscapes but having new eyes.” Proust.
The Amish in PA that comforted the family of the man who had killed their children, the man who reached out and healed the young adult who destroyed his son in a drunk driving accident, those who wished to include a candle for the murderer at the Front street shooting – those people had “new Eyes” and when God asks them ,” What did you do for the Least in my Kingdom?” they have a pretty good answer.
Friday, February 19, 2010
Hits, Misses and Musings
We just returned from a trip to Florida and I thought I would steal the column title of the New York giants Newsletter that appears after each game.
HITS
1. Gigantic hit to Allegiant Air. We had a great flight from Elmira directly to Sanford, Florida. It was quick, easy and Sanford is so much saner that Orlando International. On the return trip, we left Sanford at 8 and we were in our living room by 12:30.
2. Gigantic hit to Port Orleans. We have always stayed on Disney property, and this place was the usual high quality, convenient, well laid out experience you expect.
3. Big hit to Disney Transportation. They got us everywhere easily and without fuss. And the one time they were an hour late because of technical difficulties, they put someone on the bus to smooth everything over.
4. Super gigantic hit to Epcot World Showcase. OK , we had had a hellacious rainstorm about 5, so we went to the Cape May Restaurant for dinner. After dinner it had quit raining, but upon entering Epcot through the back door ( my favorite entrance to any park, anywhere) we discovered most people had gone home for the night. There were probably two thousand people left, which in Epcot is almost lonely. We had probably the nicest view of the light show ever, and then walked around the park for an hour or so after. Great time.
5. Big hit to Gail and Dean for giving us a beautiful send off dinner in Elmira, to the Margaret and her husband for sharing a delightful breakfast with us in Disney and a special hit to Fran and Karyl for getting us a reduction in rate and for sharing a very relaxing evening at Boma’s in the Animal Kingdom.
6. A hit to the bar in Port Orleans. Nice people, nice place.
7. Usual hit to Pirates and Haunted Mansion, plus the upgrade to the Earth ride at Epcot.
MISSES
1. Cocoa Beach. Fair is fair. Cocoa Beach is glorious in 60 plus, sunny weather. When it is 50, raining and windy not so much.
2. A conditional miss to Port Orleans food court. At 6 AM, after a nice walk it is wonderful, at 8 AM it is pleasant – by 8:30 ouch!! Keep an eye on the kids or they may become door prizes.
3. The Contemporary Hotel, which I used to love, especially the game room on the bottom floor. At one time it looked futuristic and exciting. Now it looks seedy and in need of serious refurbishing. And there is no bottom floor anymore!!
4. Kay will disagree, but one of the great joys of the Polynesian Hotel was coming through the doors on a hot day and being assailed by the scent. Sure the smell came from decaying plants, but it was just – special. Entering the Polynesian still feels like coming home, but now the center section has cut out much of the large growth and replaced it with orchids. Much brighter and much more colorful, but no Poly Stink.
5. MGM
6. Florida
MUSINGS
Just one big one has bothered me since the idea was put forward during the ride through the ball at Epcot. Did paper lead to the civilization of man, or did Civilization lead to the invention of paper? And how about the printing press? Was it really “ the reason for the Renaissance, or was it a byproduct that was inevitable?
Well, all and all it was a wonderful trip, despite the weather. Our welcome home was a little rocky, but that is a tale for another time.
We just returned from a trip to Florida and I thought I would steal the column title of the New York giants Newsletter that appears after each game.
HITS
1. Gigantic hit to Allegiant Air. We had a great flight from Elmira directly to Sanford, Florida. It was quick, easy and Sanford is so much saner that Orlando International. On the return trip, we left Sanford at 8 and we were in our living room by 12:30.
2. Gigantic hit to Port Orleans. We have always stayed on Disney property, and this place was the usual high quality, convenient, well laid out experience you expect.
3. Big hit to Disney Transportation. They got us everywhere easily and without fuss. And the one time they were an hour late because of technical difficulties, they put someone on the bus to smooth everything over.
4. Super gigantic hit to Epcot World Showcase. OK , we had had a hellacious rainstorm about 5, so we went to the Cape May Restaurant for dinner. After dinner it had quit raining, but upon entering Epcot through the back door ( my favorite entrance to any park, anywhere) we discovered most people had gone home for the night. There were probably two thousand people left, which in Epcot is almost lonely. We had probably the nicest view of the light show ever, and then walked around the park for an hour or so after. Great time.
5. Big hit to Gail and Dean for giving us a beautiful send off dinner in Elmira, to the Margaret and her husband for sharing a delightful breakfast with us in Disney and a special hit to Fran and Karyl for getting us a reduction in rate and for sharing a very relaxing evening at Boma’s in the Animal Kingdom.
6. A hit to the bar in Port Orleans. Nice people, nice place.
7. Usual hit to Pirates and Haunted Mansion, plus the upgrade to the Earth ride at Epcot.
MISSES
1. Cocoa Beach. Fair is fair. Cocoa Beach is glorious in 60 plus, sunny weather. When it is 50, raining and windy not so much.
2. A conditional miss to Port Orleans food court. At 6 AM, after a nice walk it is wonderful, at 8 AM it is pleasant – by 8:30 ouch!! Keep an eye on the kids or they may become door prizes.
3. The Contemporary Hotel, which I used to love, especially the game room on the bottom floor. At one time it looked futuristic and exciting. Now it looks seedy and in need of serious refurbishing. And there is no bottom floor anymore!!
4. Kay will disagree, but one of the great joys of the Polynesian Hotel was coming through the doors on a hot day and being assailed by the scent. Sure the smell came from decaying plants, but it was just – special. Entering the Polynesian still feels like coming home, but now the center section has cut out much of the large growth and replaced it with orchids. Much brighter and much more colorful, but no Poly Stink.
5. MGM
6. Florida
MUSINGS
Just one big one has bothered me since the idea was put forward during the ride through the ball at Epcot. Did paper lead to the civilization of man, or did Civilization lead to the invention of paper? And how about the printing press? Was it really “ the reason for the Renaissance, or was it a byproduct that was inevitable?
Well, all and all it was a wonderful trip, despite the weather. Our welcome home was a little rocky, but that is a tale for another time.
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