Christmas 2007

When I awoke this morning, my head filled with visions of my two grandchildren waking up to all of the presents around their trees that Santa had brought them.

Lucy and I talked about those memories we have of when we were children.  the difficulty of falling asleep knowing that Santa never comes when children are awake. The surprise and awe of seeing a tree that had only a few gifts under it turn into a dazzling array of presents during the few hours that we had dozed off (finally).  Our parents complaining that they had "just gone to bed" but dragging themselves to the living room because the rule was, you can't open presents until they were present in the room.

My best childhood Christmas gift in memory was a beautiful bicycle I received when I was a young boy.  I was a paperboy and had to deliver papers before dawn via my bicycle.  All of the paperboys would meet at 5 a.m. on a street corner in Opa Locka where a truck would drive by and drop off our newspapers in stacks bound by wire and named for each delivery boy.  We all had wire cutters with which to cut the wire and then we trifolded each paper, slipped a rubber band around each paper and packed it into a large basket on the front of our bicycles for delivery.  A few days later, the bike was stolen.  A truck drove up to the corner where all of the paperboys had left their bikes, chained to light posts while we all walked across the street to have breakfast at a diner, cut all the chains and threw our bikes onto the truck and disappeared.

As an adult I appreciate things that I might not have before I matured.  Although some say I haven't matured fully yet.  This year I received a simple gift that truly impressed me.  My daughter Rita put together a professionally bound book with photos of me and my Granddaughter together and a narrative that she wrote.  I love this book as much as I did the Bicycle.

This is the first year we've been by ourselves on Christmas morning.  Our children have grown into adults who had to prepare for Santa's visit for their own children.  It is heart warming to see our children, passing along the same excitement and happiness that was enjoyed in our home to their children.

We had a visit the week prior to Christmas from Rita and Alexi.  Justin's work precluded him from coming with them until he drove down last weekend to retrieve his family and return to Dallas by Christmas eve.

These visits from Rita and Alexi have allowed us to participate with Alexi's process of growing up.  They come down and stay with us for a few days a few times a year.  Her rapid mental growth is most obvious when we see her in this manner.  Her verbal skills are amazing and much like her cousin little Leonard, she is progressing with her level of intelligence much faster than many children around her.

Some interesting things happened during this visit.  Lucy decided that a crib was not a good place for her to sleep since she just turned four the week before her visit.  My first memories are around that age, as well.  I still remember my grandfather and how kind he was to me at the age of four.  I was reticent to remove the crib (probably because I had to put it up in our attic - the only place we have for storage.  When Alexi saw her new bed she was ecstatic.  I asked her before they left,  what her favorite presents were (we shared our gifts a few days early to permit her return and the visit from Santa).  She said her favorites were her new bed and a bracelet that the "new" Marino's gave her.

Alexi has a habit while she sleeps she twirls her finger in her hair.  It results daily in a hair knot on the top of her head when she wakes up.  On their last evening we had a panic in the house at around 11pm when alexi woke up with her finger stuck in her hair.  she couldn't extricate it and the finger had turned  purple from being trapped in her hair.  Scissors were obtained, hair was cut and she was rescued. Quite an ordeal. this is a photo of her unraveling her morning hair knot (never a pleasant process, but done DAILY).

We had dinner out with both Rita's family and Leonard's family at Bravo Italian restaurant here at La Cantera (upscale new shopping center).  The food was good but even more fun than that was the trip home.  We drove around looking at christmas lights while playing "name that tune" on the radio.  Rita is now beating me on a grand scale.  When a song would start everyone would try to name the song first.  Alexi was riding in the back seat with her mother and started exclaiming in a calm measured voice "too late" every time Rita shouted an answer.  It was hilarious, having a miniature ally in the back seat.

When we opened our presents Little Lenny received a megaphone that had numerous buttons on it - Lucy's Idea.  She had seen several of the kids in the store having a good old time with it right there in the toystore and felt it would be just as interesting in our home as it was there at the toystore.  It promised to be one of those gifts that drives parents crazy like a new drum set. The buttons distort your voice and you can vary how it sounds.  Our new family tradition is someone announcing, via a megaphone, a play by play as each present is opened.  "AND JUSTIN IS NOW LOOKING OVER HIS AMAZING NEW RADAR DETECTOR, YEA... LET'S HEAR IT FOR JUSTIN!!!"

Little Leonard received his second lensatic compass.  Old age is the reason he has two.  I forgot  I gave him one previously.  I plan on teaching him what life was like reading maps before the advent of the GPS (of which he also has two).

While Lucy and I were preparing our early christmas dinner a discussion of how tall Lenny is commenced among our offspring and their spouses.  Justin, being and engineer, was unable to accept an inaccurate number so we broke out a tape measure and measured everyone.  Excepting the kids (who are obviously short), we now have an order to the Marino/Bowker family height heirarchy.  Brandi is the shortest, next is Justin, then Lucy, then Rita, then Me and then Lenny who is, according to the tape measure, six foot five inches tall.

World Series Celebration in Boston

Today was our last day in Boston. We’ve decided to take the subway to Harvard, on the other side of town in Cambridge. Since the police are blocking off many of the major arteries for a Parade for the Boston Red Sox (they won the world series last night). Got started around 9 am with the ferry ride, after days of convoluted searches for Subway stations near our hotel, we discovered there was a station right next to the ferry dock on the boston side.


The parade was to begin at noon, so we thought we’d be okay. Wrong, we arrived at the station where many of the outfoing lines converge - and many people change from one line to another, called government center, to change trains to get to Cambridge. We walked down the stairs and found a sea of people, literally THOUSANDS waiting on the platform, all dressed in red sox paraphernalia many with faces painted and various large finger hands pointing up with #1 on them. Although the crowd was huge, they were all in a celebratory mood. People were singing the red sox song everywhere… yeah, they have one. Others were hollering at the top of their lungs "go red sox" etc.. I even thought I saw the "can collecting guy" from Boston Common (the guy with the colorful language) and his brother (they must have reconciled).

The incoming train pulled into the massively populated platform already full to the brim with people already ON the train. It reminded me of Japan where they have “people pushers” whose job it is to lend a hand pushing the final few people into the packed cars before the doors close. We managed to get on the train and even more impressively, once on the train, we actually were able to squeeze our way to the door to EXIT in two stops.



Harvard square was our destination. We arrived and found ourselves surrounded by history. Cambridge and the area around the Harvard College was the center of “loyalist sympathies” during the revolutionary war. Until George Washington and the rebels took over the area, it was chock full of supporters of the Monarchy in Britain. The streets have British names. Many of the treets are narrow, tree lined with beautiful massive front yards and it’s a beautiful walk. The house that was the headquarters of George Washington during the war is about 100 yards from the university, and closeby to the Longfellow home which the famous author lived in.

We had arrived, not in search of enlightment or a higher plateau of knowledge... BUT in search of Tshirts that say Harvard on them. It turns out that most adults don’t want to wear T shirts from a university that they didn’t attend (but not ME, I got one). If anyone asks if I went to Harvard, I’ll say yes.. to visit the campus bookstore.

Sol, worldwide as we travel, it occurred to me a basic philosophical question. Which looks better? A Giant cows head with huge horns on a burnt orange shirt (Go University of Texas - what color actually goes with burnt orange?) or a Giant “H” on aa maroon background (they call it crimson), which no one would know it is a Harvard shirt unless they went there and are part of the “in crowd” who recognizes the big H. I do have a fear, however, in this country we wear T shirts as a personal statement. People usually identify with what they wear and what others wear. I see someone fully dressed in black, with a T shirt that says Alice Cooper and sporting combat boots, visible piercings and purple hair and I think, wow that guy looks trendy.

While we were in Hawaii on the beach, I saw a young woman walk up to a man wearing a harvard shirt and they exchanged the secret handshake and began a big discussion about the university that no one who hadn't attended could possibly know. So I may just wear my shirt around the house and lucy and I can do the Harvard hand shake in private - but only when she's wearing HER shirt.

Here's a uniquely American tradition. We, as American's, MUST have a T shirt (or alternatively a baseball cap) from every place we’ve ever visited. One of my most prized possessions is my baseball cap from Tahiti. I love that I went there and bought it. However, the people in Tahiti are FRENCH. that means a couple of things. Their women Lounge about topless in the strangest places. We were on a tour boat with about a hundred people and sailed within feet of a woman who had decided to sunbath topless spread eagled on a JET SKI. I conclude from that incident that most of the French have an Exhibitionist Tendency and even if the pose is extremely impossible to do comfortably, flaunt your stuff!, and secondly, they have no skill in manufacturing clothing. The baseball cap I bought is without a doubt the Worst I've ever seen. When I wear it, I feel like I'm wearing a beanie with a propellor on the top (it's seriously ROUND), and someone as an afterthought put a tiny brim on it - giving a really weird and nerdy look to it.

We had breakfast in a nice cozy little restaurant near Harvard Square then walked the University grounds. They have a statue of the founder of Harvard college in the center of Harvard Square. It’s where all of the students and tourists start their tours. It’s a fifteen or twenty foot high bronze statue of John Harvard sitting looking important in period clothing. Some idiot guy climbed up on the statue’s pedestal and was posing for photos sitting on John Harvard’s lap and with his arm around the statue like they were drinking buddies. College… what are you gonna do. These are the future captains of industry.


After walking Harvard grounds, we headed back to the Wharf via the subway. It was even more crowded on the way back. The parade was over and now everyone was packing back into the subways to head to additonal ongoing parties throughout the city.

We found huge crowds everywhere. This is a photo of follks waiting for a hot dog at a hot dog stand.
There was a long line to get into a bar that was located on the second floor of one of the buildings there a faneuil marketplace. Every minute or so several people who were in the bar up on the second floor, would lean out the open windows and sing the first part of the Boston Red Sox song at the top of their lungs and the crowd waiting to get in, from down on the street, would sing the second part. It was a major happy fest.



We set out to find a post office in order to mail home the souvenirs we’d purchased. We had quite a pile of goodies. I was concerned it wouldn’t fit into our suitcases for the return trip. There is a post office inside Faneuil Market – a counter with a single clerk. When I asked her for a priority mail box, she told me that they didn’t accept anything over envelope size – no packages. I asked her where the REAL post office was and she sent us on a wild good chase. We probably walked an extra mile or two trying to find the post office and no one really knew where it was, including the omnipresent cops who were everywhere.

We finally gave up when we stumbled tired, and exhausted into a Kinko’s and shipped the package home via fedex.
While we were walking around trying to find the elusive post office, we encountered a phalanx of about twenty motorcycle cops cruising up and down the streets in formation with sirens blaring and lights flashing. They weren’t going anywhere in particular, not leading a VIP limo or escorting a funeral, just riding around the area making noise in celebration of the Red Sox.

We found the people in Boston to be friendly, no matter what their level of income or social status. Everyone was great. We didn’t see a single rude act the entire time we were there. IN FACT the average person we encountered in shops, on the street, on the ferry’s and subways was much like that gal we met on the first day at the information booth in the subway. We asked her a simple question and she came out of her booth, helped us to put our coins into the ticket sales, chatted with us about life in general and then escorted us to the turnstile to make sure we could figure out how to get in. thank you Boston for a great time.

Our final trip back to the Constitution inn across the bay was during sunset. A beautiful sunset, sailboats, crisp air and our trip wound up.

Boston North Shore and Cape Cod, October 28th & 29th 2007

Today is Sunday, the final day of the world series and Boston is about to explode. Weekends are filled with tourists and this is a major metropolitan area. Our plan was to drive south to Cape Cod and view the beach and find out what the big deal is all about, however, our tourist guide says that the traffic returning to Boston from Cape Cod is gridlock on Sunday afternoons. So we decided to take a chance and go the other way – North instead of South.

It was a good choice. The sun was shining, the weather cold and brisk and the wind was blowing heavily (making it seem even colder). Our first stop was Lynn, a very nice little community with a beautiful seashore. The sand is hard packed and birds are walking around looking for food, impervious to the frigid water or blowing wind. The water was glistening, but BROWN. It was kind of like an ocean of crisp iced tea breaking in waves and flowing up onto the shore.



All along the beaches are clams. Nobody ate them and threw the shells, they’re just there! Its hard to believe that the ocean here is so abundant with shellfish, like clams and lobster, but it is. I guess those critters really like it cold.



As we continued along the coast we passed through a number of small communities that were stunningly beautiful.




Manicured tiny little doll house looking homes to giant estates. We passed one whose gate was bigger than our home. Huge, beautiful trees in fall colors and a driveway winding up to the horizon, you couldn’t even see the house it was so far away in the forest. I thought…. There are folks with money and then there is THIS kind of money. That town was Gloucester. The guidebook told us that when the railroad was built to Gloucester (pronounced Gloster) many rich industrialists built huge mansions and homes at the end of the rail line. We visited the old railroad station, which has been turned into a store. They preserved two of the benches that were in the original rail station. THEY HAD SEPARATE SEATING FOR DEMOCRATS AND REPUBLICAN. Note the democratic bench is on the left!







We also drove through Salem, famous for the witch trials. There was a HUGE crowd in Salem and bumper to bumper traffic. Halloween is the biggest holiday EVER around there. There were kids sporting giant witch hats, and motorcycle clubs. Pedestrians along a mall that crossed the street we were traversing were having a jolly old get ready for spook night.











Halloween in this part of the country is HUGE. Pumpkins EVERYWHERE. They even have pumpkin flavored coffee. We came across a graveyard with the most macabre display for Halloween (truly scary to adults and children alike) decoration I’ve ever seen. I would be concerned if I was the family around which these ghosts are dancing.





Lobster was on the menu again for Dinner. Larry the lobster’s great grand lobster was consumed. For those of you not old enough to remember, the original cast of Saturday night live had a national vote to save the life of Larry the Lobster, which they presented like a telethon.



At the end of the show, citing a lack of concern for crustacean life, they boiled Larry alive on live TV.

Monday morning, when traffic was heading in the opposite direction, we went to Cape Cod. It was interesting but not as nice as the north shore on Sunday.









Two points need to be made. First… I now know why Turkey was served at the first thanksgiving. Wild Turkeys are EVERYWHERE. I was in the seven eleven and one was shopping on the next Aisle (click on the arrow below to play the movie)



Secondly, I have never seen so many donut shops in one place in my life. Some of them are right across the street from each other. We read that there are slightly more than 6,000 Dunkin Donut shops in the country. They were founded here in Boston AND over 2,000 of them are in the Boston metro area – THAT, by the way is not an exaggeration, those figures came right out of our tour book. They went out of business in San Antonio, we prefer to get our fat from Mexican food, but you should see them line up here for donuts and muffins. The lines are out the door.

Boston Inclement Weather Day 3

Today we awoke to rainy weather. We decided that indoor activities would be in order due to the rain and thought museums or aquarium.

We took a cab to the North End (that’s Boston’s Italian ethnic neighborhood), we had decided to have lunch at a restaurant called Massimino’s. It was small (maybe eight tables), cozy and the menu was extensive. I had called last night and they told me that they opened for lunch at 11am. We got there around 10:45 and found others in search of Pasta for breakfast already there – it appeared to be three young (I’m speculating here) Navy guys or coast guard guys. Sailors have no common sense, so they had the same idea as me eat brunch early and save room for a good dinner. Food was excellent – no eggs or grits.

While we ate, Lucy and I decided to WALK to the aquarium (we brought an umbrella). Boston is a relatively small town in its center. It is only about four miles from where we are staying to downtown and the distance from our hotel to the restaurant was about half a mile. Another half mile to the aquarium. There were several interesting historical sites enroute to the aquarium; the oldest cemetery in the country- Copps Hill Burying Ground, on top of one of the three highest hills in Boston and Boston’s earliest graveyard. Some of the pilgrims commenced burying their deceased here in the sixteen hundreds – Cotton Mather and the Mather family are all buried here, Paul Revere’s preserved house – the oldest building in Boston and all of the restaurants and shops owned by Italians in Boston’s “north end”. It was an interesting walk. By the time we got going it was around 12:30 and every little hole-in-the-wall Trattoria was overflowing with patrons. They had failed to arrive during breakfast hours and now had to wait.

We continued walking and about ten minutes later we spied the Marriott hotel on Long Wharf, which is adjacent to two notable things, the Aquarium and the Legal Seafood wharf restaurant (its where the ferry we’ve been taking back and forth docks). By this time we were feeling our age – feet were hurting -so we stopped at the Marriott (I checked the rooms at this Marriott online and they are - get this- $699 per night). We parked ourselves in a nice little lobby enclave with four chairs and a table and relaxed. The lobby and the enclave are all on the second floor of the hotel. I presume they did that to discourage the riff raff from trying to lounge around in their enclaves or using their restrooms (also on the second floor). They failed dismally as we Riff Raff from San Antonio soon discovered the subterfuge and took advantage of it fully.

Directly in front of our nest was a gift shop overlooking the wharf. I walked in the store to buy Lucy a bottle of water and glanced out the window. At the Aquarium there was a fire truck parked, lights ablaze, and about five million people milling about in the rain (obviously evacuated patrons from the Aquarium). I guess the small respite had saved us considerable trouble. We decided to forego the aquarium. We were really disappointed, having never seen a live fish before.

So, skipping the Aquarium we walked directly across the street to the Faneuil (pronounced like Daniel with an F) marketplace. Faneuil Hall was the spot where the American revolution was fomented in the 1770’s. Typical of good ole American ingenuity it is now a mile long market with kiosks and every sort of food vendor you could possibly imagine. They even have fast food Lobster being served in paper bowls at a mini bar. It was surreal.

There was a group of musicians from Chile who used to perform in front of Mi Tierra Mexican restauraunt in San Antonio’s Market Square. They played music from the Ande’s mountain villages using flutes and various instruments. It was a unique and excellent sound. I hadn’t seen them for a while. Voila!!! Here they were playing their hearts out for the gringos of Boston. Click on the sideways triangle below to play the video


Lucy indulged her sweet tooth and purchased the largest Macaroon I’ve ever seen.



We picked up a couple of clam chowdah’s to go (from Legal Seafoods, of course) ---- and headed back to our hotel.

We were in for the day at 4pm to read and lounge about in our own personal attic (see photo from day one). Looking forward to good weather tomorrow as the clouds are scheduled to depart and the sun return (along with 40 mile per hour winds). Hope that doesn’t blow every last leaf off the trees!!!

Boston Trip Day two October 26th, 2007

Our first night in the Constitution Inn was a trial. Once you have evolved into the “princess and the pea” in the bed arena, sleeping on a spring board that every movement sets in motion a bouncing movement that takes ten minutes to subside is a bit challenging.

The skylight is right above the bed on my side and last night at 3am I was awakened by a full moon shining directly in my face. It was like laying on the beach at noon.

We bounced out of bed at 8 am (rather I bounced out and Lucy was thrown by the resultant mattress wave) and with my research in hand we headed off to what Zaggat’s calls the best breakfast restaurant in Boston, Flour Makers Café. It was an adventure. We took a shuttle bus into Boston that ran from the Medical School which is immediately next door to our hotel. It dropped us at a subway station. I called the restaurant and asked them where the closest subway exit to their restaurant was, they told me “Massachusetts (MASS) ave on the orange line” and we set off.

We purchased two seven day passes for fifteen dollars each – allowing us unlimited access to all buses, ferrys and subway trains. I asked an information clerk to help us with the procedure, she came out of her office, introduced herself, talked us through the procedure and then followed us to the turnstiles to insure we got through them safely. I was beginning to thing she was coming back to Texas with us. I’ve never seen such friendliness in a public servant.

Riding the subway was enjoyable. The orange line disappears into the depths of Boston’s southside and “Mass” avenue was apparently pretty far along into the depths. We had an encounter with local culture on the subway. A toothless old guy sat down across from us wearing a boston red sox cap and sporting a huge Byzantine looking cross on a pendant hanging around his neck. I smiled at him and asked him if he was a red sox fan (in boston that’s like asking are you really a human – everyone is) He smiled back revealing a stunning lack of anything close to teeth and commented on the fact that he admired my camera and if I chose to forget it when I left, he’d be happy to have it. I told him it would be a slim possibility of that happening. Following our cordial discussion, he was mumbling under his breath warnings to everyone sitting close to him except us (we were directly across). “hey you! You look nervous, why are you nervous” (spoken to a college student looking oriental guy to his left – actually muttering like a character out of the Hobbitt) the overall effect was to have Lucy tell me to hold on to my camera and not set it on the seat next to me.

We arrived at Mass ave exit and set out to find the restaurant, around a fifteen minute walk. Initially I was a little nervous, knowing nothing about the neighborhood. It was much like NYC. Nice sidewalks, Beautiful brownstown homes on both sides of a wide tree lined street. As we walked we were passed by an elementary class of small children walking in the other direction. One teacher in front and one in the back, sheparding them like ducks following their mother duck in a row. As they walked by, one of the little kids looked up and me, smiled said hi to us. I grinned back and said Hi Kids. A few had round stickers on their foreheads. I asked the trailing teacher what that was all about and she said some of the brood had been exemplary in their behavior during this field trip, thus earning the coveted round forehead sticker!!!

We walked by old brownstones that reminded me of the house the Huxtables lived in on the Bill Cosby show.

The restaurant turned out to be a small bakery with a counter and several tables and really not the kind of breakfast we were looking for – all baked goods, so we set off to find another, which we did, a diner just down the street. Fantastic food there, as well. They actually served grits, which is so rare outside of the south and for any of you who have read the great grit diatribe of Seabourn cruise line, will realize that grits are one of my favorite breakfast foods.

So there we were deeply esconced in the south end of Boston. The people on the streets were a varied mix ranging from well dressed and sophisticated looking to the stereotypical teen with baggy jeans hanging down to his knees and a giant sweatshirt.

We grabbed a bus to china town (pass worked fine), which was a disappointment after HONG KONG. Got back on the subway and went to Boston Common.

Boston Common is Boston’s equivalent of New York’s Central Park. The sign at the entrance says (the spelling is theirs not mine) “in or about the year of our Lord One thousand Six hundred thirty and four the then present inhabitants of the town of Boston of whom the Honorable John Winthrop; Esq. Governor of the Colony was Chief – did treate and agree with Mr. William Blackstone for the purchase of his Estate and rights in any lands lying within said neck of land called Boston after which purchase the town Laid out a plan for a trayning field which ever since and now is used for that purpose and for the feeding of cattell.”,. Apparently this is the exact spot where back in the sixteen hundreds religious heretics were hung in great numbers (RITA, pay attention to what used to happen to liberals back in the day)

Boston common is laid out in the center of town and is beautiful. Directly next to it and actually a part of it is the Boston Botanical Park. The commons consists of a beautiful tree filled park with wide walkways, vendors and kiosks selling T shirts and other trinkets .

We walked through the park to the botanical gardens.

The gardens surround a lake filled with ducks and swans who seemed to be fascinated with the scenery AT THE BOTTOM OF THE LAKE.


We had an interesting encounter while sitting on a bench. Two derelict looking young guys who were each carrying large plastic bags filled with cans and other recyclables struck up a loud conversation while standing roughly fifty yards apart In the midst of these two guys were: us, numerous mothers with infants and strollers and some Japanese tourists.

First Guy“Hey Donnie, how ya doin. Hey man, I made a hunnert dollahs on Satuhday. Oh yeah, I sawr your braddah a while ago. He’s looking for ya” to which Donnie replies “Hey F*** em”. Donnie obviously holds his brother in high regard. AND concurrently teaching several young children, playing nearby new words.

So we had a bit of low rent color to add to our experience.

Dinner.. had to go back to legal seafoods.

Boston Trip Day one October 25th, 2007

Lucy and I have never been to Boston and the city is rich with history and, more importantly, is loaded with Italian restaurants, lobster and clam chowder.

We really didn’t need a vacation, we just came back from a vacation in Hawaii with our kids and grandkids, so we were fairly well rested (and broke). HOWEVER, while I was surfing the net last month I happened across an unusual deal. We’d built up 45,000 frequent flyer miles in each of our Continental Airlines accounts and I found two first class tickets round trip to Boston for almost that exact amount. We couldn’t pass it up so I swapped the miles for two tickets and began planning.

I almost decided not to go when the motel 6 was too expensive. In the case of the Boston motel 6, it’s not six dollars, or even sixty dollars but more like six HUNDRED dollars a night. Exaggerating, of course, but even the normal run of the mill hotels are ridiculously expensive here – not as bad as Hawaii, but I remember when we HAD money…. That was BEFORE the Hawaii trip..

Being resourceful, I began looking to see if there was an Army, Navy, or Marine base anywhere close. Turns out there is a hotel that is run for the military but is not run BY the military. We have a room for $79 a night in Charlestown, it’s called the “Constitution inn”- named, I presume for the USS Constitution (Old Ironsides – for those of you who know US history. Old ironsides is the first warship of its type and served fighting the British during the revolutionary war. The wood it is constructed from was so resilient that cannonballs fired by British gunners bounced off the sides of the ship – earning it the name old ironsides) the ship is still afloat and nearby our hotel – which is located in the National historical site Charlestown navy yard (whew, did I say all of that without taking a breath?)

I can see the skyline of Boston out our window- that is - If you stick your head out the window far enough. Regarding our room. Several calls to the ladies at the front desk who make the reservations in my usual “pain in the ass” attention to detail way, prior to arrival resulted in establishing a small amount of rapport.

They gave us what is purportedly (by them) to be one of the best rooms in the hotel. It is kind of like an attic. I’m sitting here on the bed and looking straight ahead. We’re on the top floor and the roof is our ceiling. It slants 45 degrees making the wall on the right side of the room about four foot tall and on the left side of the room about 9 feet tall. There are two windows, which are like skylights, if you push them up they raise above the roof and permit air to come in. ONE of the two window/skylights actually has a screen in it. So far, no serious head bumping incidents have occurred, however if anyone gets out of bed in the middle of the night to make a bathroom run, it could get ugly. I’m afraid if I leave the window without the screen open, it could admit a seagull. Alfred Hitchock!!!

There is a ferry that leaves every fifteen minutes and steams over to downtown Boston in ten minutes.


So there it is, a week in a YMCA style hotel and free airline transportation for a pittance. Couldn’t pass it up.

This morning we crawled out of bed at 3am in the morning in order to catch a flight that left at 5:30 am (probably the reason the miles were usable). I was very surprised to find the airport hopping at 4:30 in the morning. Apparently, everyone must get to Houston before dawn.

We arrived and picked up our rental car (which had Florida license plates on it) and drove with our GPS to the hotel. Unfortunately, the street names didn’t correspond with the ones on the GPS. It told us to get on and continue south on the Burbank highway. Unfortunately not a single sign anywhere said anything about Burbank highway. We actually had to get out and look at a map – how prehistoric.

We arrived at the hotel around 2:30 pm, checked into our room and headed by taxi to our first restaurant. My first exposure to Boston was a chain smoking Haitian Taxi driver who treated us to a diatribe about how no one liked Reagan while he was alive. I told him to shut up or his tip would be forfeit!

We researched the city via the zagat guide to restaurants and the most popular restaurant in Boston according to Zagat is Legal Seafood. Strange name – long story on how it got its name – goes back to the time of Paul Revere - I’ll spare you the details. We got to the restaurant (apparently there are about 20 around the Boston area) AND they have one in Sunrise Florida – which I think is Fort Lauderdale. It was like a seriously high class red lobster. Big, nice bar, windows overlooking Boston harbor and a menu that made it almost impossible to decide. I ordered a stuffed Lobster. Lucy ordered their special of the day, which was a seafood casserole. Both were absolutely among the best we’ve ever eaten. During the meal I tried to take a photo of me slurping down a lobster while wearing a giant BIB with my cellphone and tried to send it via text message to Lenny and Brandi. Don’t think it worked. A piece of technology is evading me. DAMN.

Wonderful dinner. Jumped on the ferry, which was directly in front of the restaurant, cost $1.70 per person and sailed beautifully back to Charlestown, sunset behind the Boston Skyline – brilliant red sky, on the exact opposite horizon was a full moon. Glorious day.

Maniac Kid

My Grand Daughter Alexi is a maniac. Here she is after I made a monster face (normal expression for those of us of grandparent age).

There was a movie back many years ago where frankenstein surprised a bellman. The bellman looked at the camera, his eyes bugged out. He exclaimed "FEET..... do your duty" whereupon he vanished in a puff of smoke like the road runner. what made it particularly funny is that all of the other people (I think it might have been the three stooges), stood around waiting to be grabbed by the monster - which in itself was comical since frankenstein moved slowly dragging his leg behind him.

As a matter of fact what is the deal with ZOMBIES? They also move so slowly anyone can walk around them while whistling and looking the other way, but NOOOOOoooo they always get caught and large chunks of their flesh bit off, complete with spurting blood. Who are these people who watch these movies like Texas chain Saw Massacre and Friday the 13th?

Ooops, I'm ranting. This is Alexi's "feet do your duty" (these are movies, click the play button below to watch them)

Alexi is also very good at aerobic exercise. One of her favorites is a ball that she sits on and bounces around the room. She can do it for hours. In this case she knocks over the photographer (me)

cupcakes

While Lucy and I were up in Frisco, visiting last week, Lucy bought Alexi a chef's costume and they baked cupcakes together while Rita and I went to a medical appointment. They were actually DELICIOUS. I just polished off the final three last night. There were a few left without frosting that Lucy brought home in a Tupperware container. I couldn't resist. Lucy took a short movie of the moment, you'll notice their dog Shelby the Sheltie barking in the background. We love Shelties. They are so intelligent and loving, however, they are a pain in the ass with their barking. Shelby will bark insanely whenever the telephone rings or someone comes to the door or rings the doorbell. While they were baking, Alexi's dad, Justin, was trying to telephone the house. Lucy didn't hear the phone, but Shelby did. THEREFORE, the barking fest. Here's the movie.

I had a conversation with my daughter this weekend. She has been trying to enroll my grand daughter Alexi into a gymnastics program but the one in their neighborhood (the residents of which, have much too much disposable income) has a waiting list for a year.

A friend of hers, the mother of one of Alexi's friends - Uma Claire, asked Rita if she would mind taking Uma Clair to the gymnastics class for her one day last week. Rita gained permission for Alexi to sit in on the class for one day. It turned into a nightmare. Apparently one of the instructors is a recognized gymnast. This may be the reason for the overwhelming interest in the school. Nothing like denying access to make everyone want it all the more. An American shortcoming.

As Rita sat on the bleachers with the other parents observing the class, it became immediately obvious that the famous gymnast had no children of her own and no empathy or skill at dealing with small children. Her instructions to the small children in the class was more akin to a drill sergeant's demeaning methodology than that of anyone teaching young children.

Rita has done a wonderful job of positive reinforcement with her daughter. Alexi is confident in virtually everything and is shocked and will cry if anyone speaks to her in a stern voice. Rita reserves this voice for behavior problems. This gymnast spoke to the class in the harsh "punishment" voice throughout the session. At one point when Rita applauded a somersault that Alexi had skillfully executed, "yeah, Alexi, good job!" the instructor marched over to the Bleachers and chastised Rita while wagging a finger in her face "we don't do that here - no distractions will be allowed!" Think "soup nazi" from Seinfeld.

While Rita is not the type to put up with this type of behavior in adults, I applaud her for not stuffing that finger down this woman's throat. If it had been me, I think I'd be in jail right now.

I view this as a perfect example of people wanting what they are denied. Here's a class that frankly, should have parents in an outrage over the behavior of this gymnast and they are all lining up like lemmings because the waiting list is over a year. I'm just glad that my granddaughter found out the climate in this supposed "School" before they paid to enroll.

What is even more anomalous about this particular school is that Alexi has participated in virtually everything the young, active mothers of this community can think up to involve themselves in, dancing class, pre-school class, SOCCER!!, those of you who know RITA have seen the pictures of little Alexi and her friends partipating in all of this or have read Rita's Blog. In EVERY instance, the teachers and coaches working with these little children have been caring and nurturing. This is like a blight on their community and I think Rita should do something about it. However, because she was only a guest at this training session, AND she was also accompanying a friends little girl, she did NOT react the way she, or I would have normally reacted by giving this woman a piece of here mind and immediately taking alexi out of the class in the midst of the continuing harangues of this Nazi.

The disappointing things is that Alexi is short and compact and has the perfect body to become a gymnast. I resisted mentally (silently) my daughter's enrolling Alexi in dance class, I thought she was too young, but it has taught her poise and grace not usually found in children this young. She is constantly doing little graceful pirouettes, or standing on her toes like a ballerina (it's a comically cute, she sometimes does it unconsciously - here's a photo - blank stare on toes - to make it even more difficult she's wearing SANDALS:

A day on the Volcano

Sunday August 12, 2007, 0600 hours, Kiluea Military Camp, Hawaii.

I am sitting on the covered porch of our cabin at Kiluea military camp (KMC). It is six am in the morning and the sun has just risen. To my left is the gentle slope of the volcano rising to over fourteen thousand feet. Behind me, about the distance of a football field, is the caldera around which the volcano national park was built – a several hundred foot deep crater with steaming vents on the floor – last erupted in the 1800s. It’s cool and crisp with a breeze. It’s probably around 50 degrees plus or minus but the breeze is making it seem cooler.

My fellow campers, Lucy, Rita, Justin, Alexi, Leonard, Brandi and Lenny are all still asleep and missing the best part of the day. Later the clouds will roll in and it will once again be difficult to see the heights of the slope or clearly in any direction.

I followed our GPS to the site and found that all of the old entrances had been blocked off and that you now must enter through the National Park entrance, necessitating a $10 entrance fee.

KMC is four thousand feet in elevation and you can feel the difference in your physical abilities by simply walking. The thin oxygen at this level will have you winded while doing only moderate exercise. In addition (while this may seem like a worthless fact), the effect of one ounce of alcohol doubles with each two thousand feet of altitude – SO – if you have a “mixed beverage” you will feel it much more quickly and with more potency than you would at sea level.

Yesterday, our day of arrival, we drove to KMC, checked into our respective cabins (the new Marino’s have a one bedroom by themselves and we have a three bedroom), then upon Rita’s suggestion, we decided to take a look at the “black sand beach”, Punalu’u state park. It was a forty-minute drive down the mountain to the coast line. Justin and I played with the GPS on the way down – the device has an altitude readout, which gives you your exact altitude through triangulation with satellites. When we passed signs on the way down, we compared what the GPS read and the altitude on the sign. In most instances it was within a hundred feet of agreeing, however, as we approached sea level the variance began to increase.




The beach itself was unusual. There was a lagoon directly behind it with lily pads and flowers forming from a stream that comes down from the mountain side. A small stand was set up at the back of the beach dedicated to educating the tourists about the sea Turtles, which are abundant, and held as sacred by the Hawaiians (they call them Honu – it just occurred to me that Honolulu sounds much like Honu – wonder if there is any connection to turtles).
As we walked around on the black sand and took photos, a couple of these large turtles, floating within ten or twenty feet of the shore began poking their heads up and looking around. We all had a good time except Alexi. She is so cute that everyone wants her in their photos and she is starting to rebel. Whenever we take a family photo shoot, Rita has to promise her a bribe like M&Ms or she refuses to cooperate. She’ll cover her face with her hands or turn around and face the other direction. There is a real dynamic going on here that approaches the celebrity / paparazzi relationship.

This is a very isolated spot up here on the volcano. The KMC is located about half a mile down the national park road that circles the main crater of the volcano (inactive for many years). There are two restaurants, one on the military camp (buffet style with mostly low brow food for soldiers) and the Volcano House, which is a hotel / restaurant perched on the edge of the volcanic crater, with great views from the hotel rooms and the restaurant. Volcano house restaurant was a bit pricier, but worth the view and ambiance. We had dinner there.
Everyone ordered dramatic drinks like the Volcano flaming something or other (Rita), so by the time we completed those drinks everyone was feeling just fine.

Everyone enjoyed their food (could have been the cocktails).

Rita got up early with me our first morning while everyone else was still sleeping. We decided to take a quick photo journey to the crater rim and snap some shots. It was cold and breezy but the steam vents were dramatic.

Rita was dressed in Shorts a light shirt and flip flops. She clipped her hair up in a giant clip and away we went. I was concerned that she’d be too cold. She told me that she was impervious to cold ever since we lived in Chicago. She says she used to wait for the bus in subzero weather. She remembes the feeling of pinpricks on her face during the blowing wind. I can vouch for that. I’ve been in many a very cold situation and that feeling of needles comes when your skin is effected by blowing frigid air. She says she is now immune to cold – and she must be to have blasted out here and not felt it. So while everyone slept, she and I went to the edge of the volcano.

The wind was blowing briskly and the vents were steaming. It was beautiful with the sunlight at a low angle and dew still on all of the plants.
Whenever I see steaming fissures around the volcano I think about some of the science programs I’ve seen. They talk about how many times hydrochloric acid forms from these vents and at times poisonous gases have killed people unknowingly. I wonder how they decided that THIS volcano was so safe.

The next day while visiting the observatory, I walked up to the seismograph they had on display. As there have been several earthquakes and a major change in direction of lava flow since father's day, the volcano is currently very active. I watched the seismograph machine begin logging a big reaction on it's paper graph. I thought, oh no, here comes an earthquake. Turns out the seismograph was only logging the floor in front of it and anyone passing by. Rita and Lucy decided to create a 9.5on the richter scale in this photo.

During our first drive through of the park, while looking for the actual entrance to KMC, we made a wrong turn and ended up in a residential area. As we were driving we were listening to the AM radio broadcast of the park service about special notices within the park. As we were driving back to the main road to get back on track, we had to slow to allow a walking bird with her brood to cross in front of us. We had just been listening to a caution on the radio to look out for the Hawaiian endangered species - the NeNe (pronounced Nay Nay). They gave a running count - "there have been 7 NeNe killed thus far this year by motorists".
I personally think that the NeNe is like the Snipe. When I was a kid and had just joined the boyscouts, a rite of passage within the boyscouts was the "snipe hunt". You would be put out in the woods with a burlap bag and were to hold the bag open near the ground while making strange hooting noises to attract the snipe. when the snipe ran into the bag you were to close it and return to camp. After spending the night in the dark woods, you were told there is no such thing as a snipe. MANY a boyscout went through the ritual. My personal belief is that there is NO SUCH THING as a NENE. It was invented by the park service to get drivers to drive slowly while watching for them. HOWEVER, Lenny was actually able to reproduce verbally the "call of the NeNe" that he said he'd heard on the discovery channel. Of course that was after we all had coctails that evening. In his defense, Lenny didn't drink at all. so I leave it up to you as to whether there actually is such a thing as the NeNe.