These days

I am okay. Still here and doing relatively well. Between gardening, riding, sailing and going to meetings, I stay busy.  Life has a familiar groove to it.

Getting through the worst heat of the summer has been difficult. The humidity is stifling.  I have been going to the barn to ride in the evening when the sea breeze comes up and no one else is around.  I prefer the quiet times there and going to the ring or to the fields when the sun is setting.

The garden is in the waning phase so I'm getting ready to plant some fall crops. It produced well, but the heat eventually beats down everything, except for egg plant and okra.  We put up over 75 quarts of tomato sauce for winter.  It was a two day long ordeal but we managed to get through it, although both of us did not want to see another tomato.

Sailing is still the most fantastic getaway for me.  I go out for several days a month, dropping the anchor and staying overnight.  It is relaxing in a way that's hard to describe. I sleep better on the boat with the gentle rocking.  Even though it's hot on land, the island near the ocean where I anchor has a great breeze. I sleep comfortably with the ports and hatches open.

I celebrated ten years in Al-Anon on August 13.  It is hard for me to remember all the turmoil of the years before I went and the moments that propelled me to attend my first meeting. I don't dwell on that time much.  I have a core group of two meetings I attend each week and have been adding a third on as often as I can.  We all remain imperfect, struggling to get along with others and especially with the alcoholic.

One of the greatest things that I have learned is to have compassion and empathy for all who are struggling with the disease of alcoholism, whether it is the alcoholic or the person affected by someone else's drinking. And the same for those who are struggling with life and the circumstances of it.  I don't judge others for their choices or struggles. And I have learned to not take what others do or say personally.  My hurt feelings about something unkind said to me have diminished from days to an hour.  I hope to get that to a millisecond, as the feeling flows through me.  Resentments are killers of happiness. No need to hold onto someone else's bad feelings.

I don't feel much of an urge to write anymore.  But I am going to keep the blog going, perhaps only visiting once in a while.  All that I have written about here with such urgency in the past seems much less so now.

C. and I have a remarkable love for each other.  She picked up her ten year chip a week before I did.  We have grown in peace of mind, love, respect and compassion for each other.  And we are growing old together.  Every day is one to hold onto.

This day in time

Well, today I am securely into middle age.  I slept late this morning. The rain has been pouring since the wee hours.  Now, the skies have cleared, but the wind is strong and cold coming from the north.

C and I had a nice breakfast together.  I am going to head to the barn for a while to see my horse. Later, I am going to roast some oysters for my birthday, have some ribs and celebrate with our handyman who comes out every Sunday to help out. We have known him for over 25 years, and have come to see him as family now.

I thought about how much I miss my parents, C's parents, and all my other relatives who aren't here, except in spirit.  I'm not sad today, just reflecting on the happy times of past birthdays.  And I heard from some of my oldest friends whom I have known since elementary school.  It is a source of comfort to know that some of my long-time best friends are still around, running half marathons, celebrating grandchildren, and working their farms or businesses.  There is stability in that knowledge.

I am planning for this to be a lazy day. I am one year older.  I feel the same.

"Try to imagine a life without timekeeping. You probably can’t. You know the month, the year, the day of the week. There is a clock on your wall or the dashboard of your car. You have a schedule, a calendar, a time for dinner or a movie. Yet all around you, timekeeping is ignored. Birds are not late. A dog does not check its watch. Deer do not fret over passing birthdays. Man alone measures time. Man alone chimes the hour. And, because of this, man alone suffers a paralyzing fear that no other creature endures. A fear of time running out." — Mitch Albom (The Time Keeper) 

Birthday thoughts

Today is my birthday. And I am having a happy day. 

My sadness that I wrote about in the last post went away after a good night's sleep. I am glad not to be stuck in feeling sad for too long. I like to focus on the positive but everyone has "those" days.

Anyway, the above is what my lovely wife fixed for breakfast. A good healthy omelet to start this birthday. 

She gave me a huge birthday gift--landscaping of our backyard to include an outdoor fireplace and eating area. The photo shows the slate walkway being put in. In about another week, we will be enjoying our newly landscaped backyard.

I went to a good meeting this morning, saw some recovery friends including a new fellow I sponsor.  He is a sad mess as most of us are when we figure out we can't fix those we love. But he is learning to trust me which is good. Most of us don't know how to trust when we come into the rooms. Trust has been lost and promises broken. Hopefully, as we work together healing will occur.

Thank you for your comments, kicks in the ass to get over myself, and plain talk when I needed those very things. You guys rock. 

A December baby

Yesterday was my father's birthday.  Every year since I began blogging, I have written something about him on his birthday.  Yesterday, I decided to sit with the feelings of missing him and think about the good times we had together.

As I decorated the tree,  I put up the old ornaments that we had when I was a child.  Some of them have been broken, but there are enough to take me back to putting up the tree and all the excitement about Christmas I felt years ago.  My father loved Christmas, maybe because it was his birth month; but I also think that he liked giving and receiving presents. He was sentimental about many things.

I miss him.  I miss family who died this past year.  My father has been dead over 25 years now. But I remember him clearly. I have a few regrets from the years when he was drinking. I believe that he knew in later life how much I loved him and respected him.  He and I are alike in many ways: bluntness, impatience, love of animals, tender hearted, conflicted, respectful, controlling.   Our alikeness may explain why we butted heads so much when I was younger. I didn't like his trying to control me and that's because I had an issue with control too.  As they say, "if you spot it, you've got it."

I know that this is a difficult time of year for so many. So many reminders of what used to be.  We decided to just keep it simple and not have an open house this year. We are going to cook our meal for Christmas Day and be together. And I'll be thinking about my parents, my wife's parents, and all the other family members who are gone. I don't want to dwell on the sadness, but lightly touch on happy memories.

Today my memory is of a day old baby being loved by his mother as his sisters went about the house hold chores. I imagine the neighbors stopped by the farm to see the son born to my grandparents. A December baby born on a snowy day. An early present. Happy birthday, Dad.

An acknowledgment

I'm sure that some of you have been in a situation where you want to say "hello" to someone at a social gathering only to wait an interminable length of time before you're even recognized as standing there.  I recall a couple of those awkward moments.  The most memorable was when I was a young professional at a social gathering.  I saw my first thesis advisor and went over to say a few words. She was really a "star" in her field--the equivalent of a rock star in science.  My first published paper, in a highly prestigious journal, was inspired by aspects of her work.

Eventually, I decided to leave the main campus and transfer to the school of marine science where I completed my M.S. and Ph.D.  This meant that I no longer had her as my major advisor.  But we parted on friendly terms and years later, there she was.  I stood politely while she was talking to someone, waiting my turn to say "hello".  I stood there for over 15 minutes without so much as a eye flicker of acknowledgment of my presence.  I felt hugely uncomfortable and small as time dragged on.  Eventually, I began to inwardly fume.

In hindsight,  it was my shortcoming to accept the unacceptable and not simply wave at her and move away.  I stuck around, feeling as if I were a bother, and was critical of myself while building a resentment towards her.  That situation taught me a lesson that I still remember.  I no longer want to be around or cater to the inflated ego of someone.

Sadly, I've seen this kind of behavior at meetings as well.  Newcomers show up and seem to stand off at a distance, not really knowing what to do.  Or they may flee from the room quickly so that they don't interact with anyone.  It's hard to walk through the doors into a complete room of strangers and admit that you have a problem related to alcoholism in a loved one.  I know that I was sensitive to the critical scrutiny of others and worried a lot about being judged when I first started in Al-Anon.

I remain uncomfortable around people with inflated egos.  I like to introduce myself to newcomers and welcome them before or after the meeting.  I appreciate anyone who is genuine.

This week is my seventh Al-Anon anniversary.  I passed it doing what I wanted to do most--go out on the boat.  Next Monday, I will share my story at my home group.  I don't know what I'll say but hope that it will be something that is encouraging to those who are looking for comfort.  I feel a great deal of humility about where I am in life.  I'm happy to not be engrossed in self so much that I don't remember what it was like to first walk in the rooms, to be the newcomer, to be the one wanting to find a friendly smile and an acknowledgment of hope.

What I have been doing

I've had a busy time lately.  I spent the weekend on a trip down to the ACE Basin.  I asked a fellow that I know to ride along, thinking that he would give me a hand at the wheel so that I wouldn't be at the helm for 8 hours. I found out that he really doesn't know much about boats.  And that's really okay, because I had made the ASSumption that because he belonged to a boating organization, he might know something.

He is an affable fellow so we had good discussions on a lot of things. He lost his wife six years ago and is still sad about that.  He said that his life pretty much went off track after she died.  Not the drinking kind of off track but just not really there, if you know what I mean.  We talked politics because he shares the same leftist liberal views that I do.  I can tell you that if he weren't, we would have had a lot less to talk about because I don't discuss politics with most people.  We talked about his being Jewish and his going back to synagogue.  And we talked about what kind of boat he would like to get. He spent a lot of time on the iPhone too.

We passed the time and eventually met up with some fellow boaters and sailors at a marina.  Happy hour was pretty happy but not over the top.  And the dinner was at a resort restaurant.  I was seated across from a lady and her husband who were doing the Great Loop which goes up the East Coast.  Interesting stuff, except that she was really snippy and rude to her husband who seemed to want to talk incessantly.  He was working on his third Dark and Stormy, repeating the earlier stories, and she was telling us how she knew who she was at 20 and didn't need to learn much more about herself.  I finally said that I didn't have a clue who I was at 20 and was really getting to know who I was over the past decade.  I am really happy that I have made that progress.  And I know enough to realize that I can last through a two hour dinner with just about anyone, learn something, and then walk back to the boat.

On Sunday, we headed back up the coast to my home port.  I was tired and in need of a good soaking shower when I got home.  But here are some photos of the scenery on the trip.

At the dock

Lots of marsh and lowlands

Storm clouds coming in 

Paddle boarders going by 

A bridge opening on the ICW

Old boat shed along the way

Yes, that is a manned gun boat telling me to stay away. 

And then there is the garden.  It is coming along nicely.  My wife has a green thumb.  We have mulched, planted, amended, and irrigated.   The flowers are her pride and joy.  I like them but am partial to growing the edibles.  I do like the strawberries and blueberry plants.  I had best show you the way it looks now because later in the summer, it will not look nearly as pretty or lush.  

The blueberries!

Irrigating the raised beds

Potatoes coming up 

The walkway to the front door

Today is also my mother's birthday.  I usually write a tribute to her here.  My tribute to her this year is short. She was an inspiration in so many ways.  I miss her every day.  She loved me as her child and taught me about dedication, science, a love for books and research, and to pursue my dreams no matter what.

Tough time right now

I am having a tough time today.  I think that it's a combination of things actually.  The situation with the in-laws remains sad.  My mother-in-law is not wanting to eat anything, not even the mashed up gruel that is like baby food. Tomorrow is my father-in-laws birthday.  He is spending more time in bed at the nursing home, but today we hope that he will go to lunch.  My wife is going to see her dad tomorrow and take him a cake. What's there to celebrate?  I can't think of much right now.

I haven't been out on the boat to anchor in a while so I'm going to do that tomorrow.  I'll head to the "secret island" and anchor up for three days, walking the beach, reading and clearing my head.  I am needing the sanctuary of the boat and the beach.  Maybe not being out has been another source of my sadness.

And then there is my birthday coming up on Thursday.  Another year older is making me more mindful of diminishing time left.  I sincerely hope that if I live long enough to get old,  I will not be a burden on someone or having to eat gruel.  I simply want to die suddenly as my father did--take a nap and not wake up, or fall over on my bed as my mother did.  Done, caput, fini, end of story.  

I realize that this is a sad post, but I don't want to fake my feelings.  Yes, I am grateful for so much. I can list a dozen things for which I have gratitude.  But on these days when I feel sad, I need to sit with my feelings and let them work themselves out.  I can indulge in a bit of self pity for a couple of hours.  And then I'm going to take a shower, throw on some clothes, and head to my home group tonight.  No matter how far down I feel, I know that I will be cheered up by my friends there.  We all get through whatever is going on together. That's so much better than going it alone.

December 10

Today is my father's birthday.  He was born in the big farm house on a snowy morning in Virginia. I talked to a very elderly lady many years ago who remembered how my father's elder sister ran across the fields to tell the neighbors of his birth. It was a happy occasion that a son was born. It gave me a lot of pleasure to hear about his birth from someone who had been there and seen him when he was a baby.

My father would share a lot of stories about growing up on the farm. He told me about getting up on cold mornings and running down the stairs to stand in front of the fire in the dining room to get dressed. He told me about mornings that he and his father would ride on horseback for several miles to meet up with other riders for fox hunting. He told me about hog killing time and curing of meat in the smoke house.

He lived in another time. He never forgot the community though and would go to visit old neighbors whenever he could. At Christmas, he would take gifts to those old timers that lived near his birthplace.

The farm was sold and the old farmhouse fell into disrepair. At least I have photos of it. And I did an oil painting of it when I was a teenager. I remember going in the farm house and seeing my father's room upstairs.  I wish that I had photographed it.  The house was empty then, with only the echoes from his past still present : His room just as he had lived in it as a child. I always thought that was sad and developed a feeling at that time that houses have souls too. I still believe that.

Most of the people that he grew up with have died. All of his siblings are dead.  One died from alcoholism. Her daughter died from the disease as well. I don't know what happened along the way in life for her or my father to have decided that drinking was a source of solace. It's a question that everyone asks who has an alcoholic relative. How did the child born in innocence become tainted by something so destructive?

Anyway, I guess all this rambling is to tell you that I still miss my dad. I would like for him to know that I'm thinking about him on his birthday. When I was a child, my mother and I would surprise him with presents and a home made card. After I was out of the home and married, my wife and I would take him presents. He seemed to always enjoy this special day.  I like to think that his spirit lives on in me.

Saturday on the boat

The PGA is taking place near where I live. Fortunately, it isn't on the same island but is close enough to cause terrific traffic jams when I leave the island. I can see Tiger Woods' yacht from the water, docked at a resort marina.

I wonder what the pros do when they are done playing for the day. Do they meditate? Socialize with corporate sponsors? Go over video tapes of their shots? Review the next holes in minute detail? I am not a golfer or a fan of the game. But I have been watching a few moments of the PGA because it is happening so close to home. The Ocean Course is taking its toll. And today will bring more storms in the afternoon.

We are out on the boat for the weekend. We have been for a long walk on the beach, had a good breakfast and will probably do some reading, followed by a nap. The new medication appears to be helping my wife. I can't fathom why she quit taking the meds for depression but am grateful that she is doing well now. There are still ups and downs but those have occurred as long as I've known her.

Tomorrow is my Al-Anon birthday. It will be six years for me now. And I can honestly say that I feel so different from the broken person who walked into a meeting those years ago. We had had terrible arguments over her drinking for a couple of months. I was fed up and sick of the failed promises and the embarrassment of being with a blackout drunk. Luckily, a friend in AA told me that I needed to go to Al-Anon. I almost didn't make that first meeting because the directions on the meeting list were wrong! I was driven to be there though and happened to see someone who I asked about the meeting. She knew and told me how to get there. No coincidence, I think.

Nor is it coincidence that I met my sponsor at that meeting. He wasn't there for my first meeting or the second one. When I met him at my third meeting, I felt so much compassion and understanding that I knew I would ask him to be my sponsor. That was the most important step for me and one that got me on the path to self-enlightenment through the steps and traditions.

I am grateful to have friends, my wife, my sponsor and my sanity. I can honestly say that life is far better today than I thought. I was willing. I surrendered. I believed.

Happy birthday, Elizabeth

Today is my mother's birthday. I can't help but think of her with a mixture of happiness and sadness. She was certainly a woman of many contradictions.

She was my best friend when I was a child. We always had a number of interesting things to do. Every summer there would be a project for me to work on that involved biology.  She believed that learning could be fun, and she made it so.  I would hatch out insects and study the life stages. I would grow tadpoles into frogs. I had my own microscope and would make slides from my blood, onion skin, algae, etc. We went into the woods and along ponds and streams to collect and study various things.  I knew all the moths and butterflies in the area.  This was what she taught me.

She was a Latin and English teacher who loved science. She also loved history and wrote a book on history of our county. She graduated from college and took graduate courses, all things that women of her generation hardly ever did. She was an elected official and was in all sorts of clubs. My mother was one of the most interesting people that I ever met. She was also one of the saddest.

From an early age, I can remember my mother having a very closed view of our little world. She was a proper lady when she needed to be and could be very haughty and judgmental if she was put on the defensive. She was always in denial about our family.  Her sister was a recluse.  Her father suffered from depression.  My father drank heavily at times.  But she refused to see any of this.

Instead, she told me many times to "remember who you are and where you came from", referring to our family tree.  This was very confusing to me since I didn't think that we lived any better than anyone else or that we were any better than others. I liked just about everybody and to this day have an affinity for the people who aren't loved because they aren't good looking or rich or powerful. I am a friend to the underdog, I guess.

Anyway, my mother always wanted me to be the best. I had to have the best grades and succeed academically. She didn't have to push me much because it was what I wanted also.  All of this fed right into being affected by alcoholism because perfectionism in the midst of pain is how I coped.  I know that she was proud of my accomplishments though.

Mother could be very vain and put on great airs. In later life, those kinds of things could be excused, but they still bothered me. She suffered from severe depression from age 70 on. I made sure that she got treated.  My father didn't know what to do.  I can remember him crying because he could not make her well, and he didn't understand what was wrong with her.

She was treated with all kinds of drugs, but nothing seemed to work.  So after bringing her from Virginia to SC, she was put in the psychiatric institute where she began a series of shock treatments (ECT).  She had hundreds of ECT's over the course of her depression. She was hospitalized many times, and each time she was admitted, she would come out more mentally fragile than before. Anything could trigger a major depression such as getting a cold or not knowing how to work a microwave. But, when she wasn't depressed, she could have such  fun. Everything seemed to be a treat for her. It was as if life was a big candy store.

In her last years, she lived in a nursing center where she was the "social director". She always dressed beautifully and had a lot of friends among staff, visitors, and residents.  She became more beautiful with age.  If she approved of you, she could be charming. If she didn't, well, you never knew whether she would be cold or just neutral. I think that her depression had a lot to do with her attitude. Most times when I would visit her or bring her home, she would be busily writing or reading. She loved to make inventories of all the antiques and delighted in genealogy. I guess that the inventory I made on myself is probably one that she never thought about.

Mother died peacefully at age 95 in 2005. I know that she was an exceptionally bright woman who had inherited a terrible illness.  I don't know that she ever acknowledged how much my father drank.  I think that she denied so many things rather than face reality.

Depression robbed her of a lot because the ECT treatments wipe out short term memory. I'm just glad that her last years were spent being cared for well and being around those who loved her. Happy birthday Elizabeth. I still love and miss you.

Birthday night

Tonight,  there were two birthday celebrations at my home group.  One was for a lady with a year, and the other celebrated 19 years. I think that this was a particularly tender meeting.  All of us had a lot to share about life and who we have tried to control and how we have failed in expectations of others. 

The following was a poem shared in one of the cards tonight.  It sums up what it sometimes feels like to live this life and to find a solution that helps to get through it, move through it, and be okay.  

There is no controlling life.

Try corralling a lightning bolt,

containing a tornado. Dam a

stream and it will create a new

channel. Resist, and the tide

will sweep you off your feet.

Allow, and grace will carry

you to higher ground. The only

safety lies in letting it all in –

the wild and the weak; fear,

fantasies, failures and success.

When loss rips off the doors of

the heart, or sadness veils your

vision with despair, practice

becomes simply bearing the truth.

In the choice to let go of your

known way of being, the whole

world is revealed to your new eyes.

The birthday girl

I think that the birthday girl had a nice day.  She opened her presents (note the plural) first thing this morning.  And she seemed thrilled with my choices--a couple of light weight sailing shirts, a wide brim hat, and the sea glass necklace.  I knew better than to not give her anything for her birthday.  I fell for that one Christmas and saw the brief flash of sadness in her eyes before she put on a smile.

After the presents were opened, she went to the gym while I prepared the picnic lunch.  After she came home from the gym and showered, we headed out on the water.  It was a beautiful morning.  We caught the dropping tide, fished for a while and had our lunch.

We saw a lot of mullet jumping but didn't get a strike on the plugs that we were using.  Well, actually, we each hooked a clump of oysters and had to do some finagling to get the plugs back.  Soon, we noticed some ugly storm clouds forming.  The storm clouds brought a down pour, so we headed back to the boat landing. 

Although the fishing trip was a bit of a washout, we still had a good time. It was nice to just be together.  I know that C. is feeling the loss of the relationship that she used to have with her parents.  Her mom would usually send cards and have a gift.  This year, her mother called to wish her a happy birthday, but dementia has taken such a toll that she wasn't making much sense.  Her father is in the nursing home.  Things are definitely not as they were a year ago--not for any of us really.  At least this year, C. is healthy and not recovering from a heart attack.  Her parents are failing, but they are cared for and loved.  

It's another year in the life of someone that I love dearly.  I am hoping for many more years that we can spend together.  I would do anything for her.  She knows that. 

Birthday Law

It has been a good birthday so far.  And I define the "good" part as being quiet with everyone in the family doing well.  Tonight C. is cooking portobello stroganoff.  It is a meal that goes back a long way in terms of birthdays and our marriage.

With birthday law ruling the day,  I got to choose what I wanted to do.  So I worked out this morning, then went to the boat, dropped off the binnacle cover to be embroidered with the name of the boat, and began installing my birthday present--a depth reader that ties into the Garmin chart plotter.

Birthday law will remain in effect through tomorrow at which time we'll go to lunch and a movie.  I'm not sure what movie we'll see.  Probably it will be the screen adaptation of John Le Carre's Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy.  We both thought the preview of it looked intriguing.

The meeting last night was good.  There was a lot of laughter, something that I didn't know how to do when I first went to a meeting.  I was so serious that it probably took me a year to see the humor in so much of what happens in life.  Even looking back on the alcoholic escapades make us both laugh now.  At the time, nothing was funny about any of it.

Last night, the lady telling her story talked about completely ignoring the red flags when she met her husband.  I think that is so characteristic of us Al-Anons.  We think that somehow we can love someone enough to make them change.  So why worry about alcoholic antics when we can make them go away? I can tell you that I was bested at every maneuver.  Love became just a four letter word.  And thankfully, we were able to turn the whole thing around to get where we are today.  It is possible to rebuild that which is wrecked and broken.

No longer terrified, we will discover we are free to delight in life’s paradox, mystery, and awe.  We will laugh more.  ~ from Survival to Recovery

Help me to.....

The luncheon yesterday for my father-in-law's 91st birthday was nice.  It's amazing that in just a few short weeks, he is now walking normally.  After he got out of the hospital and physical rehab last time, he could not straighten out his legs.  His memory is amazing, and he is very sharp mentally.

My mother-in-law, on the other hand, says some outlandish things which actually turn out to be funny.  She had us and the caregivers in stitches with her comments that came out of left field.  I'm not sure that all of it is real, because one moment she can hear things perfectly well and make total sense and the next minute she can't hear and says things that are totally out of context.  But nonetheless, she laughs about it all.  Here are some of the funny things she said:

"I have selective hearing and sift through what I want to hear.  Sometimes my sifting needs some work around certain people."

"If you aren't good, I'm going to pull your toenails out."

"I want to go home and if you don't let me, I'm going to have to get my gun."

"I remember giving birth to both of you and you were a pain."

Actually, most of this makes perfect sense to me.  Being around them now that all the pretenses have been dropped has helped me to see them in a new light.

Tonight, my home group meets.  We are celebrating the 21st. anniversary of one of the members.  That's a long time.  Here is what the card says:

Help me to.......

Cultivate the habit of happiness.

Believe that I am good. 

Appreciate the wonders of life. 

Nurture my emotional and spiritual growth.

Say good-bye to the past. 

Give myself credit for what I have to offer.

Make enthusiasm a daily exercise.

Let love change the course of my world.

Every day, something new comes up that helps me to see life a bit clearer.  All the agonizing over so much minor stuff when I was younger, when I began my career, when we were first married--it all comes down to being real and authentic in life now.  And if that means that I don't meet the expectations of others as to how I "should" be, then so be it.  As long as I can be my authentic self, with full recognition of my own shortcomings, then I am okay. 

Not much to say

My body has stopped aching, and I am not as tired today.  Yesterday, I slept about 16 hours.  I think that I am over whatever it was that wiped me out.  I actually got out of the house today and went to a meeting tonight.  I was cornered by a lady after the meeting who was telling me about some things that she thought that I "should" do.  I extricated myself as quickly as possible and decided that she could go "should" all over someone else.

I have nothing much to say, other than the entire state has gone crazy because of the primary coming up.  The candidates are all trying to out do each other on digging up dirt.  I know that there is another whole year of this stuff to listen to, but really, I am sick to death of it.  I wish that they would complete the feeding frenzy, devour each other, and be done with it.

The weather is freaky with gale force winds whipping the coast.  I haven't been to the boat in a couple of days.  She will probably be coated with salt spray.  I like one of my new neighbors at the marina.  He and his wife actually would like to cruise to some of the spots that I like.  It's nice to meet other couples who get away from the marina and like to anchor out. We are planning some upcoming cruising weekends.

My father-in-law has a birthday coming up on Jan. 15.  My birthday is on Jan. 17.  We are going to celebrate his 91st. birthday over here.  I'm going to fix his favorite meal of oyster stew and Lowcountry Boil (aka Frogmore Stew).  The oyster stew is my father's recipe from the Chesapeake Bay: Fry some bacon,  add celery and onions, some butter, and saute the oysters and their "liquor" with some milk.  Delicious!

The boil ingredients are local white shrimp, corn on the cob, sausage, and new potatoes with some Zatarain's seasoning added.  Frogmore is a small community on St. Helena Island--in the southern part of the Lowcountry.  The origin of the boil supposedly goes back to the Gullah who lived on the sea islands of coastal South Carolina.  They would throw together what was available in a large pot, add spices and feed a lot of people quickly.  It has become a party favorite in modern times as well.

This year, I don't feel like celebrating much.  I think that my wife and I will go to a movie and have an early dinner afterwards.  On this birthday, I am not going to be anywhere near age 91, but every year that goes by now, makes me wish the days would last longer and the years would slow down.

That's it for today.  A little history, a couple of food photos, and some social commentary is all I've got.  Maybe something more will come to mind tomorrow.

My father's birthday

Today is my father's birthday. I thought that I would share some of my memories of him.

My father enjoyed his birthday. The day meant something special to him. When I was a kid, my mother and I would surprise him with presents and a home made card. I wanted to make sure that I had a nice present for him.

I can remember a set of cuff links that we bought. He wore them many times and they seemed to accent his starched white shirt. I still have those cuff links as well as many other things that belonged to my dad.

After I was out of the home and married, my wife and I would take him presents. He was always appreciative of our thinking of him. I could tell that he still had that little bit of child within him on this day.

He was born in the big farm house on a snowy morning in Virginia. I talked to a very elderly lady many years ago who remembered how my father's elder sister ran across the snowy fields to tell the neighbors of his birth. It was a happy occasion that a son was born.

After he died, it gave me a lot of pleasure to hear about his birth from someone who had been there and seen him when he was a baby. It made him seem alive in their memory of him.

My father would share a lot of stories about growing up on the farm. He told me about getting up on cold mornings and running down the stairs to stand in front of the fire in the dining room to get dressed. He told me about mornings that he and his father would ride on horseback for several miles to meet up with other riders for fox hunting. He told me about hog killing time and curing of meat in the smoke house. He shared about oystering and fishing on the family schooner. It was a different day and time back then. But I was spellbound by his stories.

One of the more poignant things that he told me was that for Christmas there would be candy and an orange or apple in his stocking. This would make me cry because of guilt that I got so much. I think now that my father might have been doing a bit of manipulating as his parents weren't poor. Maybe it was his way of making me feel grateful for those things that I received.

He never forgot the community though and would go to visit old neighbors whenever he could. At Christmas, he would take gifts to those old timers that lived near his birthplace. He enjoyed sitting around a fire and talking to them about the old times. I believe that he was a romantic at heart.

The farm was sold and the old farmhouse fell into disrepair. At least I have photos of it. And I did an oil painting of it when I was a young teenager. I remember going in the farm house and seeing my father's room upstairs. The house was empty then, with only the echoes from his past still present. I always thought that was sad and developed a feeling at that time that houses have souls too. I still believe that.

Many of the people that he grew up with have died. All of his siblings are dead. One died from alcoholism. I don't know what happened along the way in life for her or my father to have decided that drinking was a source of solace. It's a question that everyone asks who has an alcoholic relative. How did the child born in innocence become tainted by life?

Anyway, I guess all this rambling is to tell you that I still miss my dad. I would like for him to know that I'm thinking about him on his birthday. I like to think that his spirit lives on in me.

Vernal

Spring has really sprung here.  In the two days that I was gone,  there is more green in a thousand hues.  I am glad to be back home.  Home is truly where the heart is. Travel was a nightmare, but all of that is over now.  What matters is being here today.

This is my wife's birthday.  She said that the greatest gift she has gotten on this birthday is recovery--both health wise and from alcoholism.  I am grateful for all that we have together.

Today we are going to have lunch, visit her mother and enjoy spending some time together.  I have my home group meeting tonight.  I know that I need a meeting and can tell when I haven't been to one for a few days.  I don't know what else the day will hold but am okay with whatever C. wants to do.  Birthdays are special.  I know that she is special in my heart.

I want to share some of what has blossomed and sprung out over the past few days.  It is a beautiful time in this place I call home. Here are a few photos of what spring has brought to the Lowcountry:

Hope that you have a good first day of spring.

Remembering my father on his birthday

Today is my father's birthday.  He died in 1985 but every year I think about him on his special day.  In fact, I think of him often.  There are times when it's hard for me to reconcile that my father was ever a child, a new born.  He was always so adult to me.

Yet, I know that he was born on a snowy morning in Virginia.  He was the youngest child and had three sisters. One of the sisters ran across the farm field to tell a neighbor that she had a baby brother born that morning.  I try to imagine what it must have been like to be in that big old house.  I would have liked to know my father as a young man.  I wish many times that I had asked his sisters what he was like and what he liked to do. 

I really only know about him as a young man from my mother. My mother told me a story about how they first met.  My dad sent a friend of his to ask my mother if she would go out with him.  My mother retorted, "Tell him to ask me himself".  Good answer, I thought.  So they went on that date to a floating theater.  My father was so nervous that he dropped his wallet.  I suppose that he was already smitten by my mother even before that first date.

I have looked at pictures from that time of him and see a handsome man who towers above my petite mother.  I have my mother's diary and have read about the parties they would have before I was born.  There would be oyster roasts and card games.  I have nothing that was written by my father, other than a few signatures that I cherish and a letter that he wrote to my mother that professed great love for her.  I never received a letter from him.  My father was a man of few words and didn't talk about feelings to me. We didn't have those fatherly chats that I've read about.  I wish that we had.  

But he left me a lot of other things that I am grateful for.  

He taught me how to care for a large vegetable garden growing in the backyard. He loved to grow vegetables. He would till up the soil, plant tomatoes, beans, corn, and strawberries. I would help him put the seeds in the ground. It was my job thereafter to weed and water the plants. From doing this I learned responsibility.

My father taught me how to fish and feel at home on the water. He was quite a fisherman. He always had a boat, and we would get up early to be able to hit the water on the last of ebb tide. He showed me how to bait my hook, wait for the fish to bite and then set the hook. My father taught me how to run the boat and to read the water.  From watching and waiting for fish and tide I learned patience.

My father taught me about monetary values. I was given a weekly allowance but was not allowed to spend it freely. I was told to put some of it aside so that it would accumulate into a larger sum. I was taught to think about what I spent money on and to not buy things that wouldn't last. My father would not loan money to others, but he would loan tools and give away fish and vegetables to neighbors and friends. From this, I learned appreciation of what I had, and about charity.

My father taught me to tell the truth. He had a suspicion that I was taking his cigarettes and smoking them with my cousin when I was around 7 years old. He asked me if I had stolen them and was smoking. I told him that I had. He lectured me but told me that I did right by telling the truth because my punishment would have been worse had I not. He told me that he couldn't stand a liar. From him, I learned about honesty.

My father taught me that actions speak louder than words. He wasn't a "windbag" or "blowhard".  He would listen to what others had to say and then make his own decisions. He said that there were a lot of people who could talk their way out of anything but it was their deeds that were important. I learned the importance of doing from him.

My father taught me to care for animals and to love them. The few times I saw him cry were when an animal died or was hurt. He once took my cat to the medical doctor to get a fish hook out of her mouth. There was no vet in town at the time. "Mama cat" became a star and was written up in the local paper. From him, I learned about empathy.

My father taught me to stand up for myself. He never let people walk all over him. And he wasn't afraid to speak his mind if provoked. He didn't like injustice to people or animals. He didn't look down on people but treated everyone he met fairly, unless they proved to be unfair. From him, I learned about fairness.

And I know that there were many other life lessons that I learned from my father. All of these things he taught me have shaped me.  And somewhere along the line he also learned those things as he was growing up.  Perhaps his father taught them to him.  Like each of us, he had his own demons, and often I would wish that he were different.  Yet, as an adult, I realize that he did a good job in teaching me to think and do for myself. 

Although I won't get to ask him all the things that I wish I had asked him when he was alive, I realize that by understanding myself better, perhaps I have also reached an understanding of who he was. 

Happy birthday Mother

The mother looked adoringly down at the new baby.  Her green eyes, not focusing yet, looked up and a bit of a smile spread across her baby face.  She held her mother's finger in a fierce grip.  The mother looked at the child and said, "I think that I'll call you Elizabeth for you have the presence of a strong Queen".

Elizabeth did grow strong.  Always slight, she ran and played in the old house and the surrounding countryside.  Often hiding from her younger sister, she would laugh with glee at how much quicker she was.  She loved books and baffled people with her intellect.  She could remember dates and the most intricate details of literature.

Away at college, her intellect was further fueled by so many choices.  She was fierce with her mind.  She knew Latin and French. She studied biology and made intricate drawings.  She pressed leaves into the pages of the books she read as if to make a bookmark of memories.

She graduated college and went back home.  There she met a handsome man who took her breath away.  She was already engaged but couldn't get her mind off the tall man who would ride on his horse to visit her at the school.  It wasn't long before Elizabeth decided that life with the tall handsome man was what she wanted.  She broke off her engagement without another thought.

Elizabeth and the handsome man were married.  They played cards with friends, went out on her father's yacht, built a sturdy house, had flower gardens and enjoyed their time together.  Eventually, a child was born to them.  He was a surprise in a way as they had decided not to have children.

But Elizabeth looked down into the green eyes of her baby and watched as his eyes tried to focus.  A smile came across his lips, and he reached out to grasp her finger.  He held fast to it.

Many years later, the boy-turned-man held onto her hand.  The hand was thin with the skin nearly transparent, brittle like paper.  The blue veins stood out.  She looked at him with the green eyes that were now milky with age.  She told him that he was the most important thing in her life.  He smiled back at her knowing that to be true. 

Happy birthday to my beloved mother Elizabeth who left this earth in 2005. I treasure your spirit and all that you gave to me.

Long weekend

It's going to be my natal birthday on Sunday. My wife asked if I wanted a party, but I just wanted something low key. The best thing that I could think of was to go on the boat. The weather is supposed to be relatively warm which will be a welcome change from the below freezing temperatures of the past two weeks.

We did a birthday party last night for my father-in-law whose birthday is today. And I opened some of my presents last night as well. It was nice to spend some time with my in-laws. They are nearing 90 but seemed to be doing well. They live in their own home, still drive, and take good care of each other. As with all of us, it is one day at a time.

We are leaving today for an island up the coast where there are hiking trails and a good beach for walking. I can't think of a better way to celebrate my birthday. I'm grateful for a lot of things but here is what comes to mind today:

• Getting wiser and more comfortable with who I am as each year passes
• Talking with sponsees who are making progress with the steps. They remind me that patience, humility, willingness and hope are wonderful traits.
  
• That some help is getting to the suffering people in Haiti. I felt a strong urge to go there to help.
  
• Mindful of all that I have and what I sometimes take for granted.
  
• How disasters rally everyone to lend a helping hand. I wish that mentality would persist with normal everyday life.

"They say that pain is inevitable but suffering is optional. If I learn to accept that pain is part of life, I will be better able to endure the difficult times and then move on, leaving the pain behind me." (from Courage to Change: One Day At A Time in Al-Anon II, page 83).

"He who sees the calamity of other people finds his own calamity light.” Arabian proverb