Go Blue

We went to Florida for the week between Christmas and New Year's. Patty's brother Doug and his wife Natalie recently bought a house in Palm Bay, Florida, which is just south of Cape Canaveral. 

And one activity was a trip to the Orange Bowl for the first round of the college football playoffs.

Spoiler Alert: They did not go far.

We got there a bit on the early side. 

Pros: plenty of parking and no lines at the still clean porta-potties.

And plenty of space in the grilling field.

Cons: We were so early we ran out of beer.

So we headed on over to the Fan Fest. Where six beers and one water cost over $80. There was a bridge.

And a tunnel. The Ronald L. Book Pedestrian Tunnel to be specific. At first my thoughts were that the tunnel was named in Mr. Book's honor; what one had to do to have a tunnel named after them; and how proud his mom must be. But after a quick web search I discovered that Ronald L. Book is a law firm that specializes in lobbying. So the law firm bought the naming rights to a tunnel. I could see that meeting: "well team, the naming rights to the stadium are taken, but there is a tunnel available." And they said "yeah, let's do it!". And that is kinda sad.

And I still wonder how proud Ron's mom must be.

🏈  🏈  🏈  🏈  🏈

Patty's family are Michigan folk. Her grandfather was a Professor of Voice and Music Director of the Men's Glee Club.

The only Michigan gear I had was the mask I wore throughout the game (except when drinking very expensive beers).  And we are in the absolute last row in the building.

While enjoying those beers (and they had a nice selection, along with Bud Light) we were entertained by the Michigan Marching Band. Curiously the Georgia Band did not perform. Worse, neither band performed at halftime. Instead a country act (that Patty's sister Suey actually likes) played through the stadium sound system. It was awful.

The "Animal House" moment at the end of the performance. Alas, this would be a metaphor for the game, with Michigan marching into the wall that was Georgia.

ESPN was in the house. Have floor will travel.

I was a Michigan fan by association, but really was just hoping for an entertaining game. It was not a good game. Final score Georgia 34 - Michigan 11. And it wasn't that close. The ride home was not a joyous one. 

But I crossed Major Bowl Game and College Football Playoff Game off my bucket list. Of course, I had to add them to my bucket list as I don't really follow college football. 

What a Difference a Week Makes

This morning I took this picture looking out the window over my work laptop:

(You might recall the image on the laptop.)

I took this picture last week, of Patty's nephew Stephen 'working from home':

This morning:

Last week:

❄️  🏝  ❄️  🏝  ❄️

Swinging Bridge

After spending several days on Mount Desert Island, we headed on down the road towards home. But there were stops along the way.

Including the Androscoggin Swinging Bridge.

Built in 1892 by the John A. Roebling company, the bridge is now a park. All but the suspension cables have been replaced.

The view from mid-span.

The view of Patty mid-span.

🌉  🌉  🌉  🌉  🌉

John A Roebling is perhaps better known for another bridge, one often for sale, and named after the place where I was born. The Brooklyn Bridge. Designed by the senior Roebling, the completion was overseen by his son, Washington Roebling, who, like me, has a degree from Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute. 

And also lived for a time in Troy, NY and Burlington County NJ.

One Year

It was a year ago yesterday.

There are still times I grab the phone to call him.

I tell him those things anyway, without using the phone.

It's not the same though.

We Did It

Summited Mt St Helens is what.

Where we, from left to right are, my brother-in-law Steve, my brother-in-law Steve's brother-in-law Steve, Patty's brother Doug, my niece Alison, Patty's nephew Steve, my nephew Kenneth, and Patty. 

Proudly holding our sign at the summit, just prior to popping the champagne (yes we had champagne, we are civilized you know, although it was twist top bottles).

It was not an easy hike.

This is the mountain, at the top center there are two dips, we hiked to the right most dip, you can see (once suitably bigafied) a thin grey line to that dip. That was the trail.

It was brutal.

The first two miles were along a nice easy path through the forest.

And then ...

Boulders. Lava boulders. And snow. And then ash (like walking on a beach, only up).

Three miles of this stuff.

Note the white poles, those were the trail markers. 

Did I mention boulders? (A Mountain, Mt Rainer?, nicely framed.)

Notice the yellow work gloves. They were so I didn't cut my hands when scrambling over those lava boulders.

Also note I'm wearing shorts and no jacket. It was 108° F in the valley that day. And it was hot on the trail. If not for a constant breeze, and the snow (more on that below) it would have been brutal as the last three miles were exposed above the trees. No shade whatsoever.

One final word about my attire. At the top there was a group of hikers, six women and one guy, and one of the women asked if I "was and adventurer". I guess I am. And as we were approaching the tree line on our way down, one of the volunteers who hike the mountain looking to help folks along the way asked if I was a tour leader.

I was the last of our group to make it to the top. 

Leading from behind ...

We had plenty of wonderful views. That's Mt Hood in the distance.

And the view from the rim, looking in to the volcano:

Across the way is the Johnston Ridge Observatory, where this adventure started four years ago.

Up on the rim we enjoyed the champagne and lunch.

And then we headed back down. Like this:

Sliding down on the snow. It's called "glissading" and usually requires thicker pants and an ice ax, as one is sliding down on the top layer of ice. But since it was so hot the ice had melted. And it helped keep us cool. Sharp eyed readers will notice I now have long pants on, through the miracle of zippers.

Here is a link to a glissading video taken by the youngest of the Steve's: click me. 

Patty and I at the top. Note the thin grey line of ash on the left. That is the same line visible in the second image above.

Now while I can't say that I totally enjoyed this hike, as some parts were just brutal, I can say that I did enjoy parts. Being at the summit. Sliding down. And arriving back at my car. :-) And I'm glad I did it.

When we got back to the 'resort' were we had spent the prior night, we met up with a group of women who had been on the trail behind us through the wooded part. They were on a guided hike. And they told us that they turned around just one mile from the summit because the tour leader said there wasn't enough time to summit. They were understandable angry, as there was plenty of time. All that work for no payoff. I too would have been pissed.

A spectacular end to our Washington adventure.

🏔  🏔  🏔  🏔  🏔

Thanks to Steve, Steve, Steve, Doug, Patty, Kenneth, and Alison who provided images for this post. And who were great hiking companions.

Dad

My Dad, seen here with two of his favorite things, 

steak and wine, while with his family.

And sporting a tee shirt from a trip he made to Europe. He loved to travel, and visited every continent except Antarctica (he hated cold).

Edward Mattan

July 10, 1929 - September 7, 2020

Two more of his favorite things were reading and talking on the phone. He also enjoyed falling asleep in his chair while watching TV, mostly sports and detective shows.

On the waiting list over 25 years, when he finally got season tickets to his favorite NFL team he was at the point where he preferred the at home TV experience. His nephew John, through his company, footed the bill for the tickets, and Dad and I would go to one game a year. This contest, against the Bears, was a Giant's win, in a game where the G-Men recorded 10 sacks. 

~  ~  ~  ~  ~

Dad's drink of choice was Jack Daniel's on the rocks. 

He'd enjoy one pretty much every evening.

We poured one out for him, to toast and celebrate his life. I invite you to do the same, with whatever your favorite beverage may be.

Farewell Dad. 

Farewell.

Happy Mom's Day!

This is for my Mom.

She hates squirrels.

Almost as much as she hates computers. So she'll never see this.

But it is the thought that counts.

Weekend Wanderings ... The Spy House

Once upon time there was a house, the Spy House, in which drinks were served and Redcoats with loose lips sunk ships. Or so the story went. And that was the tall tale told to me, and many others, by one Mrs. Gertrude Neidlinger.

The actual story, while to the history buff is just as interesting, is much less fanciful.

But to a twelve year old boy tales of spies and Revolutionary War battles fired the imagination. And I ate this stuff up.

I remember going there with my boy scout troop and hearing these stories. Apparently Ms. Neidlinger told some ghost stories as well, but I do not recall those (I had no interest in ghosts).

As the tale went, this was a tavern (it was, but not during Revolutionary War times; tavern days would come much later) and the British had many ships in the Sandy Hook and Raritan Bay at New York City (maybe so?). The British sailors would come ashore to eat and drink. And the proprietor would pass info about the ships to Colonial troops. And while the owner of the house was on the side of the victors in this war, it was a house and home at the time, not a tavern.

Today the house is part of Bayshore Waterfront Park, in the Monmouth park system. Back then, it was a private museum struggling to stay afloat. And I was quite surprised when I visited this past weekend to see no mention of spying. It wasn't until I got home and went wandering on the web that I found the real story.

The New York City skyline in the distance. Much different looking than in Colonial days.

And today it is US Navy ships, like the distant one center left in the image above, that ply these waters, visiting the Earle Naval Weapons Depot.

⚓️  ⚓️  ⚓️

I grew up surrounded by military bases. Army bases at Hartshorne Woods and on Sandy Hook, which also houses an active Coast Guard base. The first house my parent's bought in New Jersey was on a road that ended with a fence across it. On the other side of that fence, which we kids would sometimes sneak under, was the Earle Naval Base. And Hartshorne Woods was immediately adjacent to my high school.

During the Korean War my Dad was in the army. And he was stationed on Sandy Hook and Cape Cod. Defending the east coast from the North Korean navy. History shows that he, and his fellow soldiers, were quite successful at this.

🎼   🎼  🎼  🎼

My Mom was a member of St.Agnes Senior Choir. And that choir made an album of Christmas music. In the late 1960's. On vinyl. Hipsters before it was hip.

If you look closely (bigafy!) you'll discover that Gertrude Neidlinger was the conductor of the choir.

And that my Mom was one of the Sopranos. Who knew?

🖼  🖼  🖼

Clown by Amalie Day

This masterpiece was painted by my sister, in 1971. And is currently hanging in my parent's garage. No doubt because it is too heavy to tape to the refrigerator.

My sister took painting lessons from a local artist. Travers Neidlinger, Gertrude's husband.

(This painting is available, let me know if you're interested. But act fast, it will be gone by the first week of May.)

Moth-er's Day

In addition to being Pi Day, as well as Potato Chip Day, March 14th is Moth-er's Day!

Here we have Patty's sister Suey, on the day Patty and I moved into Piney Place, happily sporting a Luna Moth. A good omen. While I knew they were native to the area, I had never seen a Luna Moth prior to this. Now we see them on a regular basis.

🦋  🗓  🦋  🗓  🦋

I don't know how something gets a 'day' of its own. There are 15 'days' on March 14th alone ("Dribble to Work Day?" really?). To pick another day at random, July 29th only has five; March 17th has none, (sorry St. Pat). December 25th is Pumpkin Pie Day?!? Who decides these things?

 🗓  🦋 🗓  🦋  🗓

Try as I might I couldn't find anything on the origin of Moth-er's Day. Nor much about it at all. One site I found stated, without attribution, "March 14th has always been Moth-er's Day". Always since when?

Anyways, Happy Moth-er's Day!

Anticipated Encounter ...

... which fortunately did not occur.

My Dad and I were visiting Yellowstone National Park when we came upon folks lined up along the side of the road. This usually means interesting wildlife. So we joined the throng. And saw this.

But upon closer observation, most of the cameras were pointed to the right of the Moose and her calf.

Alas, I was not in a position to get a photo of what they, and the moose, were looking at.

Many, perhaps most, wildlife photographers are respectful of their subjects, and shoot from a safe distance. But there is always that one that has to get closer. And just outside the frame, hidden from me behind the foliage, is that photographer. Fortunately for him or her, there as a drop-off between them and the moose. One that mama Moose could not scale. Much to the disappointment of the crowd around me, who had their cameras at the ready for the 'when animals attack' moment.

🦌  🏔  🚗  🗺

My brother and I were in Moab, Utah hiking about when my sister called. Dad wanted a 'new' car. My sister was getting a new car. She had an old car to trade in. So we hatched a plan. My three siblings and I would divide the trade in value amongst us, buy the car from my sister, and give it to Dad.

The best part of the plan? I would drive it cross country from my sister's place in Spokane to Dad's place in New Jersey. Dad thought this was a fantabulous plan and asked if he could come along. Thus one fine day in June 2002, with no set agenda, Dad and I headed east.

Here we are at Yellowstone. Somewhere behind me are my life Sandhill Cranes.

The reason I was able to take my time on this cross country trip is that I was unemployed. My prior employer had been purchased by another company and while many of the front line workers continued to be employed with the new owners, the management team, including yours truly, was let go. A situation I find myself in once again, as my company was just bought by another, and it is not clear that everyone will find jobs in the new combined company.

Given that Patty is a teacher and gets the summer off, this may mean another cross country trip. If so, I'll try not to wait seventeen years to blog about it.