Leon and that which Remains (Kid Stuff)

One of the great blessings that age affords is the reality that gainful employment is no longer a consideration much less an option.  The blessing manifests itself to the everyday in that schedules are far less rigid and the thinking process is allowed to run it's course, in it's time.  Without an alarm set for 00:dark:30, a freedom is presented to rouse oneself into the still of the night and simply reflect.  Recently, one of those thoughts that has bounced around is the musing that we share our planet with a menagerie of creatures.  A few, we choose to cohabitate with.  

The Bible tells us that God presented Adam with a number of choices for a helpmate (Genesis 2:18-20).  Thankfully, the selection process progressed beyond the four legged variety of companions.  However, a rumination persists:  Are those animals which we label "domesticated" the ancestors of those creations introduced to Adam all those ages past?  Foolishness to ponder the unanswerable.  Yet, those creatures with which we live, possess God-given traits.  They leave their mark and we are richer for their godly touch.   

Written accounts of two such gifts can be found here:

Rascal

Fäet the Cat

Now there will be a third.

The three little words "I've been thinking..." never fail to twitch my antenna whenever they come out of Jamie's mouth.  Inevitably, my blissful routine is soon to be interrupted.  Now translated, those words really mean, "I've made a decision".  Plus, and here's the tricky part, "and it involves you..." - an interpretation that took years of marriage for me to decipher.  Once my attention is focused, a ritual, dare I say dance, ensues.  She leads.  I object.  She insists.  I rationalize.  She counters.  I try to reason.  She voices wisdom.  We get in the car. 

So it was not long ago, "...we need a cat".

Jamie had already picked out a cat listed on the local cat orphanage/prison's web site.  The cat's rap sheet read in part, "Needs quiet home.  No kids.  No other pets.  Shy boy looking for peace and a master to love."  I had to admit, our sedentary lifestyle sounded like a perfect fit.   

When we arrived at the rescue we found Jamie's companion of choice to be an 8 year old Maine Coon named Leon.  Large, with orange fur and white boots, Leon's crowning glory is actually his tail - outsized and fluffy.  Besides their size, Maine Coons are known for their intelligence and in keeping with his breed, Leon voluntarily gave one, single rub of his flanks against each of our shins during that initial meeting before retreating.  An act suspiciously self serving as he no doubt understood that a small show of affection would guarantee an escape from his confinement.  Yes, Jamie was smitten and I'm hesitant to admit that my heartstrings were tugged a bit as well.

Besides intelligence, we've come to learn that Maine Coons are by nature talkative and playful, friendly and gentle.  They are known for following their humans around doglike from which strong bonds soon form.  However, they are generally not the proverbial "lap cat".  Staying near but not necessarily in contact are strong traits.

The age old debate of Nature vs Nurture is in full throat with Leon.  How much of his behavior is purely feline, genetically predetermined as far back as the garden?  How much of his ways have been learned, if not encouraged, along his path in this fallen world?

Once home, an ongoing acclimation process began for Leon...and for us the more so.  We continue to be amazed by his attentiveness to our every move.  If one of us leaves the room while he is napping, somehow he senses, and will literally run after us to see what we're up to.  It is quite endearing to hear the muted rhythm of his padded paws meeting the hardwood floor which he combines with quiet chirps that just have to mean "wait... wait...wait for me".  In addition, that single rub of his flanks on our shins has increased to multiples accompanied by deep purrs. 

But that affection is nearly always initiated on his terms.  Early on we learned not to approach him from behind and attempt to pet him.  Especially with something in our hands.  Such actions were met with a glare and a swipe of the claws.  Persistence on our part resulted in full on attacks which in one instance drew blood.  Sadly, we now understand why Leon was incarcerated on at least two separate occasions.  Negative conditioning, perhaps physical abuse, at the hands of a previous owner being the presumed culprit. 

Regardless all that, Jamie is determined that love and positive reinforcement will undo any and all bad habits learned from the past.

In the meantime, Leon seems content to practice the Theological Virtues to the best of his abilities.  Despite the fact that faith, hope and love are impossible to perfect in our sinful state, we persevere.  Leon carries on as well.  While our faith is based on an assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen (Hebrews 11:1), Leon is simply finding confidence that a human's touch is not synonymous with pain.  As for hope, we place our ultimate expectation in a Living Savior (Psalm 42:11) while Leon patiently anticipates our return at the front door.  Finally love.  Ours is sacrificial      (I Corinthians 13:4-8).  Leon is given to emotional displays.

Now that we share some part of the same path, Leon and the companionship he provides are becoming an ever increasing source of joy and a valued reminder of what lies ahead.  

The hour is coming when the earth and all the works within it will pass away (II Peter 3:10).  Then a new age will arrive where the wolf shall dwell with the lamb and the young lion with the calf (Isaiah 11:6).  Indeed, the Three Virtues will abide in perfection as they once did in the days of Eden.

"And now these three remain:

faith, hope and love.

But the greatest of these is love." 

I Corinthians 13:13   NIV                                             

Leon

 

My Box of Journeys (Kid Stuff)

Recently, Jamie suggested that we look for a new hobby.  Now, she said "we" but I suspect her intent focused on me.  Yes, it's hard to imagine but I suppose that it is marginally conceivable that the sameness of my daily rituals had become a bit trying.  Perhaps the term "underfoot" best fits the situation for indeed, Jamie is just too nice to come right out and say that she needs some space.  Rather, she cloaked her suggestion with the trappings of health benefits appropriate a septuagenarian.  The inherent joy and the resultant lowering of blood pressure that curiosity when confronted with new tasks bestows.  Dexterity gained by the use of the hands on something other than a computer keyboard.  The exercise of the right side of the brain - the creative and spatial reasoning side.  Mercy, those brain cells are weak even on their best day and more than one of those puny muscles atrophied long ago.  Regardless, a creative outlet made sense if brought to bear in my struggle against the aging-processes' war of attrition.  Still, the precise venue remained illusive.

A few days later I was browsing through my "box of journeys".  As is my habit from time to time, I dig an item or two out of the box and allow my mind to wander back to times past.  The baubles never fail to trigger memories of people and places, travels and events that have touched my soul.  The collection started circa 1990 with a small rock picked from the sands on Cannon Beach, Oregon.  Finished smooth by sand and sea, the stone nestled in the palm of my hand and presented a small  hollowed out impression tailored to my thumb pad.  Without thought, the rock found it's way into my pocket and from there to a window sill.  Then onward to desktop to drawer to jar before some years later finding its way into the box.

The alpha collection piece.

Haystack Rock, Cannon Beach, Oregon

Over the years dozens of trifles have been added to the box and the practice of the putting-in has proven therapeutic as a sense of wellbeing is always induced.  So too, the taking-out.

Well, on this day, much to my annoyance, the lid of the box would no longer close tight when the two items were attempted to be placed back into the box along with the rest of the hodgepodge.  Hmmm...confound it...walaa!!!  Yes truly, necessity is the mother of invention.

The right side of my brain blurted right out loud, "Doug!...why don't you make a new box?...Doug?"  

The comment stunned the whole of my mind and it went numb for a time - a state of affairs fairly common, truth be told.  Regardless, Dexter soon gathered himself and continued making his case but thankfully for the sake of my dignity in silent mode now, "A wooden box. Design it yourself, Doug."  

Before it even started the conversation threatened to erupt into fisticuffs with the southpaw synapses rationalizing sarcastically, "Oh!  Yes.  Good idea.  Lets build a box....Are you crazy?  Have you ever built a box?  Actually...that would be no.  Of course not.  Do you have any idea of how much work that would be?  Again, nooo.  Well, let me tell you, it would be a lot of work.  Think about it.  Surely, a much nicer box could be purchased for less money than the cost of materials alone and for a fraction of the effort."

But the neurons on the right would hear none of it, "This will be fun, Doug.  Doug, you can do this.  Besides, you've been prattling on to Jamie for days now about some so-called hobby.  Put up or shut up, Big Boy!"

The gray matter on the left shot back, "No!  You shut up, Dexter Doug."

With that, numbness once again enveloped the entirety but only for a few seconds.  Then, for reasons not completely understood, Lefty relented, "Well, maybe you have a point.  Maybe we could kill two birds with one stone.  But you better see this through.  I'll need your help with the design.  And we'll need to make some jigs for the cuts.  Think you can figure that out?  You better!  Because we're not going to spend a bunch of money on fancy new tools!  Let's get to it."

And so it came to be that a new box of journeys was designed and built.  Sixty one individual sticks cut to size and glued together along mitered butt, rabbet, and some very primitive tongue-and-grove joints.  No nails or screws but a magnet in each of the upper corners with corresponding attracting magnets in the lid.  Large enough to hold the elder box as it has become one of the medley in and of itself.   Plus space for trinkets reminiscent of journeys yet to be.

Lefty was correct - a purchased box could be had with far fewer imperfections, not to mention lower cost.  Yet, the project was both fun and satisfying.  Welled over with attendant benefits - two such rewards being a renewed connection with the sense of touch and some compulsory thinking outside the box.  (For you punsters in the group)   Surprisingly, those advantages proved to outweigh those moments of frustration when Lefty's reality didn't quite sync-up with Dexter's vision.

With a tinge of pride and without further ado, I present my Box of Journeys together with a small random sampling of whatnots gathered along the pathway of the journey grand.  

Inside Dimensions
Elder:  8"L  x  5.5"W  x. 4"H
Big Boy:  16"L  x  12"W  x  7"H
 

A plastic ornament that I made in a 7th grade crafts class.  It is being displayed here as supporting evidence to the comments made earlier regarding Dexter's creative prowess or more accurately, lack thereof.  The bauble was placed in the box because my Mother attached it to her key chain the very day I brought it home from school and she carried it with her until her dying day.  I hold it in remembrance of her.

My Mother Esther
as pictured on Jamie's and my wedding day.

Top row left to right:
Hallands Fläder Aquavit bottle, Stockholm, Sweden
Seashells in bottle, Kauai, Hawaii
Wooden Thimble, Bellagio, Italy
Oyster Pass (subway system),  London, England
Bottom row left to right:
SeaUrchin spine and Tiger Cowrie shell, Tikehau, French Polynesia
Seabean, Molokai, Hawaii
French Pacific Franc, Tahiti, French Polynesia

Rascal's dog tag. 
Ironic, in that he would never run away.  Always by our sides.

Rascal.

Jamie's Birthday Extravaganza (Kid Stuff)

 

Sunsets as viewed from sea are no more beautiful than those seen from land, but they do tend to inspire greater awe.  The boundless union of water and sky together with an ever changing fusion of color and light never fails to beget a divine inspiration. 

That is one reason that on December 12, 2023, Jamie and I set sail on a 12 day cruise across the Atlantic from Lisbon, Portugal to Fort Lauderdale, Florida.  Then, once in Florida, we rented a car and proceeded to explore just a sliver's worth of Southern Florida for the next 7 days.

A second reason, and probably more motivating, was an event of a lifetime.  Jamie turned 60 on December 27 and we wanted to do something special to commemorate the occasion. 

The links below contain a few thoughts and pictures garnered over our 3 week adventure. 

Somewhere, somehow, during our trip I became conscious of the the fact that there are now some 8 billion souls inhabiting our planet.  Forty five million individuals were added to our population in the '23 calendar year alone.  During one of those "inspirational" sunsets, I found the need to write about a particular friend - one of the eight billion.  The first link includes some of those thoughts:

Link------Voyagers in Passing

Other sights along the way:

Link------Lisbon and the Viking Neptune

Link------The Keys

Link------Quicksand

Link------Christmas Day on Dry Tortugas

Link------The Everglades and Big Cypress National Preserve

The Everglades and Big Cypress National Preserve (Kid Stuff)

Water, water everywhere.  So different than home.  Yet, stunningly beautiful....and diverse.  Pictures can tell it better than me.

A purple gallinule seeking out supper.

They would turn over the Lilly pads and find insects. 

How's this for some bad nature photography.  Those are Manatees.
Sometimes they would raise their head out of the water and snort,
but we were never quick enough to capture the moment.  

Sawgrass for as far as the eye can see -
prairie like but fresh water flowing slowly over the entire base.

Smallest Post Office in the US.

My avifauna identification skills are exceeded only by my
nature photography skills.  I have no idea what this guy is.

I think this is an American crocodile.

I think this is an American alligator.

Alligator hole.
Alligators form holes by using their feet and snouts
to clear muck from depressions in the limestone bedrock.

Big Cypress grove.

Bromeliads, aka Air Plants.

Now this one I know for sure.
Two hams on a boardwalk.

Thanks for taking a look.

Christmas Day on Dry Tortugas (Kid Stuff)

In 1513, the famous explorer Juan Ponce de León stumbled upon 11 small keys 68 miles west of Key West, Florida, in the Gulf of Mexico. Intrigued by the abundance of sea turtles, he named the small islands Las Tortugas. However, the name later evolved to Dry Tortugas as a caution to seafarers that there was no fresh water to be found on the islands. Warnings be what they may, there are believed to be some 250 to 300 shipwrecks scattered across the islands and surrounding reefs. The exact number is difficult to pinpoint as hurricanes periodically churn the sands, thereby obscuring any remains. Indeed, the seas have reclaimed four keys themselves, leaving the seven keys as we know them today.

In 1821, Dry Tortugas was ceded by Spain to the United States as part of the Adams-Onís Treaty. This treaty ended the Florida Purchase negotiations and formalized the border between the United States and Spanish Florida. Not long thereafter, a lighthouse was built on Loggerhead Key and Fort Jefferson was constructed on Garden Key. The fort's construction consisted of some 16 million bricks and the fortress initially fulfilled the duty of an advanced post in defense of the Gulf Coast. Later, the outpost served as a Union prisoner-of-war camp during the Civil War followed by a period of disrepair as the result of neglect, vandalism, and repeated storms. President Franklin D. Franklin designated the area a National Monument in 1935 and on October 26, 1992, Dry Tortugas became a National Park.

For some time now, Dry Tortugas has been somewhere on my ever changing bucket list. So, I decided to give myself a Christmas gift - with Jamie's blessing of course. Yes, it came to be that on Christmas Day, 2023, Jamie and I boarded the the Yankee Freedom III, the daily passenger ferry from Key West to Dry Tortugas. The catamaran accommodates 250 passengers and is licensed by the National Park Service. Out we headed for the 2.5 hour crossing, 4 hours at the park itself, and the 2.5 hour ride back despite Doug's TRAVEL RULE #1 - never go on a tour which requires more travel time than actual boots-on-the-ground sightseeing time.

Now, Dry Tortugas was anything but "dry" on this day. Indeed, we stepped off the boat into a blowing mist which within the hour turned into a continual, drenching downpour. Did I say blowing? That would be a politician-like understatement. The boat ride in both directions proved to be anything but smooth. Let's just say that vomit bags and spaces on the gunnels were hot commodities among my fellow passengers. Thankfully, Jamie and I had taken a meclizine pill prior to boarding - one of mankind's greatest inventions along with sun screen. The motion sickness medicine surely helped but my real defense proved to be a simple mental distraction. I tried to focus on the horizon and repeatedly sang in my mind the lyrics from an old sitcom comedy:

The mate was a mighty sailing man,
The skipper brave and sure.
Two fifty souls set sail that day
For a three hour tour, a three hour tour.

The weather started getting rough,
The tiny ship was tossed,
If not for the courage of the fearless crew
The Freedom would be lost, the Freedom would be lost.

                                                                               The Ballad of Gilligan's Island                                  

                                                                               George Wyle and Sherwood Swartz                           

Regardless all that, Dry Tortugas was fascinating and I'm glad we did it. However, our pictures were disappointing. They failed to capture any of the vivid turquoise blues and greens that I had hoped to see. Also, the exploration of nooks and crannies was cut short. Nor were we able to get in the water as the surf had kicked up so much sand that a swim would be anything but enjoyable. As such, the first picture posted is a copy off the internet which I assume portrays the place as it is on probably 360 days out of the year.

Garden Key and Fort Jefferson.
Photographer unknown.

Right off the boat.
Perhaps that red flag was somehow weather related.

Cannon bays that housed some of the 464 total.

The fort is six sided.
The moat is singular in structure encompassing the whole fort.

Looking out at the Yankee Freedom III.

A local resident.

15-inch Rodman
with Garden Key Light on the far wall.

And then it started to rain.

Quicksand (Kid Stuff)

Forever seeking the path less traveled, our explorations on this morning found us forsaking any number of beautiful State Parks and opting to reconnoitre Coupon Bight Aquatic Preserve, Big Pine Key, Florida.

"Don't worry, Jamie.  It looks pretty solid here along the edges.  Follow me."  

(unmute)

The initial breakthrough and suction with subsequent flounder and extrication are best left to the imagination.  Besides, an unnamed camera-person seems to have been otherwise distracted.

The white shoes make a statement of their own, don't you think? 

    

 

The Keys (Kid Stuff)

 

The architecture of Key West.

A roadside bar serving up
caesar salad, peel-and-eat shrimp, and white sangria.

The Keys were connected by rail in the early 1900's.

The remnants are larger than life in some places,
barely visible above the waterline in others.

View from Bahia Honda State Park.
Pronounced Bah-EE-ah OWN-da.

Canals take the place of neighborhood streets.

Out the windshield view of
US Route 1 - the Overseas Highway.

Bright colors everywhere.

Two hams again.
This time at Southernmost point buoy.
We opted for a picture on the back side as there was a line
a block long of people waiting to take selfies on the front side - truly.

Lisbon and the Viking Neptune (Kid Stuff)

Our adventure started in Lisbon, Portugal.  After 17 hours in the air and 27 hours plus door-to-door, we spent much of our time in this beautiful city fast asleep.  Wherever we go we are conscious of the fact that only a very small fraction of the whole is experienced.   Sometimes I wonder if the costs outweigh the benefits.  But no....even as I write this my mind is reprioritizing my mental, virtual "bucket list".  By the Grace of God, we'll be blessed with the opportunity to taste but a morsel once again.

 

Glória Funicular, Old Town District  

Larger-than-life street art

Meat tray at a small, hole-in-the-wall, side-street restaurant.
Wonderful tastes but wondering which would get me first -
a clogged artery or the explosion.

Jamie on the Square of Trade with
statue of King José I and
Rua Augusta Arch beyond

Avenue of Freedom
decorated for the Season.

Small portion of a Christmas Village from across Eduard VII Park.
The Christmas Village was
 one part neighborhood light display competition,
two parts Puyallup fair (complete with rides and junk food),
three parts arts and crafts festival,
with a pinch of department store Santa's workshop.

Untold miles of tile sidewalks
and cobblestone streets.
The little lady with cane was a perfect fit.

The Alfama District, Lisbon's oldest
as seen during the embarkation process onto the Viking Neptune.
The embarkment center was thoroughly modern facility
that had long ago been a tobacco quay.

    

Pachelbel - Canon in D major.

The Viking Stringed duet as seen from the 3rd level in the Atrium.

My Sister Carol played this for Jamie and me at our wedding.

It brings a tear to my eye.

A portion of the ginger bread house display
as seen at the top of the video previous.

The reflections and refractions of light were fascinating in the quiet. 

OK.  Pretty lame.  But I still liked it.

Jamie enjoying afternoon tea.
This day was not her birthday but she celebrated her 60th during the trip.

Altogether now -

Hip hip Hooray!
Hip hip Hooray!!
Hip hip Hooray!!!

Jolly good!  

A tight squeeze into Nassau Harbor, The Bahamas.
That's the Atlantis Resort on the horizon
with four behemoths already docked.
The gauntlet of t-shirt shops was quite impressive
as we walked towards Old Town.

Abandoned street cafe.
Many shops and establishments were shuttered.
Likely the aftermath of Covid.

Two hams in front of the Government House, The Bahamas.
Ouch! - Some sit-ups are in order.