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In plain site: National leaders need to take a look around once in awhile

May 8th, 2012, 9:21 am by madisontaylor

Political leaders are almost always disappointing to a large number of people. This has been true almost forever.

Abraham Lincoln, for example, was widely reviled and led the United States when it was more sharply divided than it ever could be today. Franklin D. Roosevelt was lambasted as a socialist. Even Thomas Jefferson had his detractors. They were loud, but had no internet to broadcast their rants of that time. Martin Luther King Jr. was jailed, threatened and branded a communist.

I don’t think there is any doubt that each and every one was flawed in some way. Who isn’t? All, however, were in one way or another exceptional leaders, figures who overcame great odds to either lead our nation or engineer important societal changes that would advance the cause of freedom or better America. All are remembered with monuments or memorials on the National Mall in Washington.

They are, indeed sites that inspire with either words or images. The same could be said of Washington itself, if people could overlook the less-than-breathtaking politicians who now operate there.

It’s hard to get around the fact that national leaders today seem prone to tripping over their own politics or special interests en route to whatever goal they might have to do their best for the nation. And believe me, I sincerely think they all hope to improve the lot of our country when they first go to Washington to serve in any branch of the federal government.

But politics, invariably, get in the way. It’s endemic. They are, after all, politicians. But the figures remembered on the National Mall, on some level, led by making difficult choices, ignoring critics and opponents or followed a gut instinct about what might need to be done at the time. They did so with brains, guile, fearlessness and eloquence. They weren’t always right, but they damn sure weren’t afraid to be wrong. And they absolutely refused to govern by focus groups or polling. If nothing else, they had the courage of their convictions.

I don’t see many like them out there today.

That point was stark for me this past weekend when I visited the National Mall once again. On earlier trips I had seen the monuments to Jefferson and Lincoln. But I hadn’t seen the Martin Luther King Jr. memorial, which opened last fall. While there I decided to check out the FDR memorial, which I had forgotten all about — my hunch is I’m not the only one. Earlier on this trip we took in the Pentagon Memorial to those who perished in 9/11 and visited Arlington National Cemetery.

Unbelievable, every single site.

It led me to wonder how a city with so many inspiring monuments to so many great figures and events could have become such a cesspool of pandering dolts, dullards, doofuses and dillweeds. Don’t these people ever stop to visit the sites that surround them as they go about the business of lawmaking, speechifying and arguing?

Obviously not.

How else to explain what goes on in Washington as the MLK Jr. memorial rises just a few hundred yards from where laws are allegedly made. The site has a spectacular view of the water and the Jefferson Memorial. The statue to the Rev. Dr. King is 30 feet — constructed by four blocks of granite. The surrounding walls are marked by many of the timeless and passionate quotes offered over the years by the slain champion of civil rights for all Americans.

Just a few feet away, nestled in the woods along the Tidal Basin, is the memorial to Roosevelt, the first and only four-term U.S. president, who guided the nation throught the Great Depression and into World War II. This 7.5-acre site was first commissioned in 1955, 10 years after FDR’s death in office. It would not be constructed and completed until 1978. In many ways, it’s the most spectacular site on the Mall.

The Roosevelt memorial, like the war memorials nearby, is not merely a tribute to the president but to the time in U.S. history he served in office. Sectioned off by FDR’s terms, it includes something visually stunning around every corner of what is a maze of stone walls and waterfalls. There are statues marking rural poverty, bread lines, fireside chats, young FDR in a wheelchair, older FDR with his dog Falla; and Eleanor Roosevelt. Famous Roosevelt quotations are inside the walls. He speaks of war, the perils of joblessness and the importance of helping those who can’t help themselves. One impressive stone mural notes the accomplishments of Roosevelt’s New Deal.

I’m not sure that it’s very simple matter to visit the sites along the Mall and not be impacted for the better, to avoid inspiration or aspire to a higher calling. How could anyone visit such places and not wish to be the best he or she can possibly be?

This leads me to believe that current members of the U.S. Senate, House, Supreme Court and White House don’t bother going there at all. Oh, they might’ve visited a site or two when they first arrived — but a refresher every so often certainly couldn’t hurt. And a trip to Arlington every so often should be mandatory for any elected official who sends young men to war.

Somebody should make it a law.

Here are some other photos I took from the two National Mall memorials we visited as well as Arlington. I’ll post images from the Pentagon memorial later. It’s a sobering vision as well.

From the Roosevelt monument, a statement about war.

Men on bread lines was the signature image of the Great Depression — captured here in statue form.

A powerful quote from FDR.

This message on the MLK memorial will stay, the one on the other side, which was an inaccurate quote, will be removed.

The scene at Arlington National Cemetery is hard to fathom. Row upon row of tiny white stones — like the ones in Pine Hill Cemetery’s “Little Arlington” — rise and fall with the rolling hills on the former estate of the late U.S. and Confederate Gen. Robert E. Lee.

The changing of the guard at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier is a solemn ceremony that takes place each hour most of the year and every half-hour in the summer.

Posted in: Just thinking out loud • Random photos • Voyages and adventures | Post a Comment »

Beyond the Frame … beyond imagination

October 30th, 2011, 9:18 pm by madisontaylor

Well, it took a few months for us to get to Graham and see the much-talked-about Beyond the Frame exhibit at the Captain White House. I’m sorry we waited so long. It’s truly something we would go back to see again given the opportunity. Unfortunately, the last chance is Monday, Oct. 31.

The exhibit of sculptures by Seward Johnson depicting in a three-dimensional form the paintings of the French impressionists is a one-of-a-kind opportunity to not only learn more about the works of Monet, Renoir, Manet and Van Gogh. But what’s more, it’s a rare chance to lounge in the mental corners of an artist with true imagination. Not only does Johnson deliver the goods in replicating the true images rendered by the original artists, he transforms the subjects into characters. With supposition, imagination and wit, Johnson takes the subjects to new levels of consideration. Visitors can almost feel as though they interact with the sculptures — or have their photos taken that way (see above).

The amazing show, sponsored by area businesses and the Alamance Arts Council, is the kind of thing usually available only in major metropolitan areas. A few thosand made special visits to Graham to see it. On Sunday a few hundred people stopped in — the house and grounds were packed and the parking lot overflowed into the Children’s Museum area, which is still under construction. In one of the rooms of the Captain White House, where Johnson’s vision for Renoir’s Lunch at the Restaurant Fournaise was housed, a French-speaking family was just as transfixed as I. In all, I suspect close to 40,000 will have viewed the show when it closes today.

I’m sad to see it go, but excited about what might be coming next. With the Children’s Museum nearby, the future is bright for that particular spot of the county.

And for those who missed the show, here are some photos we took on Sunday.

This was my favorite piece, Johnson’s take on Renoir’s “Were you Invited.” So rich in detail, imagery and humor. Here’s an overview photo by my spouse.

The overall piece has far too much to be viewed at any kind of distance. You have to get close and peer around corners — even look down to see what’s going going on. Here are some more detailed images from this particular piece. I shot these.

NOTE: These two appear to be somewhat engaged but check her foot in this next photograph and where it rests – a detail not in Renoir’s painting, but all Johnson’s imagination.

In Renoir’s painting, the very back table can’t be seen. Johnson has filled it with the faces of other artists — including himself. He’s the center of attention and the obvious storyteller at the table. Loved it.

The Captain White House garden was filled with Johnson’s vision for French impressionist painter Claude Monet’s On Poppied Hill. And Johnson included a sculpture of Monet creating the image.

Inside the Captain White House was a stunning three-dimensional portrayal of Renoir’s Lunch at the Restaurant Fournaise. I was struck by the interaction of the images. My wife shot the first photo, and captured me getting the photos that come after.

This one is by my spouse, who probably enjoyed the show as much or more than I did. While I fixated on a couple of pieces she took in the entirety of it. This is Renoir’s Dance at Bougival.

Posted in: Random photos • Voyages and adventures | 1 Comment »

Not just for history nerds anymore

August 31st, 2009, 3:13 am by madisontaylor

In colonial Williamsburg people walk into taverns that not only don't have Bud on tap but no big-screen TV. No wonder Patrick Henry was so agiated all the time.

In colonial Williamsburg people walk into taverns that not only don't have Bud on tap but no big-screen TV. No wonder Patrick Henry was so agitated all the time.

Let me start by saying that as a place to get away for a few days, colonial Williamsburg in Virginia wasn’t at the top of my must-see lists when it came up a month or so ago. To be completely honest, it wouldn’t make the top five either. It wasn’t No. 6, 7, 8, 9 or even 10 for that matter.

In fact, counting down from 100, I would probably get to around No. 63 before either dozing off or choosing the three-plus hour ride north to settle for a prime vacation spot.

My hesitation, mind you, had nothing whatsoever to do with Williamsburg itself. Seemed like a nice enough place with shopping outlets and a huge theme park with roller coasters and all.

But since I’m not usually interested in any of those things my view had mostly centered upon the reason Williamsburg was invented to begin with — the colonial part, which was basically where America started.

So based upon keen observation conducted from a safe distance, it was my general assumption that colonial Williamsburg seemed a rather tame and quaint place full of restored old homes and antiquated government structures separated by places called taverns where beer was not readily available and there wasn’t one big-screen TV anywhere with a baseball game on it. I also figured it had people walking about in broad daylight wearing goofy three-cornered hats while nearby another handful of men stand in breeches practicing the fife and drums. Every so often, a cannon simply goes off without warning and for no apparent reason.

Something historic happened at this fort-like deal once and I got an artsy photo to document that I visited the place 300 years later.

Weird, huh? Kind of like a theme park for history nerds.

Yes, what it seemed from a distance was exactly like the kind of destination my mom and dad started going to check out after they successfully jettisoned my brother and me out into the harsh and cruel world and they could start traveling wherever in the heck they wanted and not hear any lip about it.

Despite all that, a couple of weeks ago I found myself walking smack dab through downtown Williamsburg where I encountered lots of restored old houses, antiquated government structures, men in goofy three-cornered hats, the occasional unannounced cannon shot for no apparent reason and not one big-screen TV with a baseball game on it.

Photos I took of alleged ghostly orbs while taking a ghost tour in Williamsburg. So are they or aren't they -- ghostly orbs I mean.

Funny, sometimes things exactly meet your expectations. But what’s funnier is this: I enjoyed myself immensely.

Our decision to visit Williamsburg came because we decided to meet some friends from Rhode Island there as a kind of happy mid-point. They were taking a week off, accompanied by their two teenagers who were much more interested in Busch Gardens, Water Country and all the outlets than where Patrick Henry once stood as a member of the Virginia House of Burgesses and cussed the British. When I was their age, I felt exactly the same way.

The good karma of our trip was nearly destroyed by this overly officious dude in a three-cornered hat we took to calling the "Colonial Nazi." I did not ask his views on health care reform.

So we were only blowing into town for a couple of days to take in some history and maybe hopefully encounter a spectral presence on one of the city’s nighttime ghost tours. One of our Rhode Island friends turns out to be a certified ghost hunter armed with gadgets even our tour guide had never seen before — not that our guide was much more than some old dude who could manage to carry a lantern at night.

For the record, I can’t say definitely that we made contact with any colonial spirits but I certainly can’t say we didn’t.

But aside from a colonial storm trooper who patrolled the exterior of the courthouse where cases were being re-enacted with the vigor generally associated with the “Soup Nazi” on “Seinfeld,” we had an extraordinarily good trip. Actually, I’d call it a great trip.

So now Williamsburg is creeping toward the upper half on the list of my top destinations for a vacation. After all, now we have to go back and see some of the stuff we missed.

Maybe I’ll even get one of those goofy three-cornered hats, too.

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Remember the Alamo … for all your useless trinket needs

May 25th, 2008, 7:44 pm by madisontaylor

San Antone 1

I have a new favorite American city. Its name is San Antonio.

No foolin’.

Yes, forget the headline. I was just in San Antonio last week for another in a series of conferences involving the future of the newspaper business. I learned the following two things:

1. San Antonio is quite possibly the best American city to visit if visiting is what’s on your mind. And that Riverwalk pictured above is pretty damned cool. Even Charles Barkley has to be right every now and again.

crpclett jat and 2. Newspapers are not exactly deader than that fake coonskin Davy Crockett replica hat I purchased on my quick run-through the Alamo but on serious life support. For the record, no, I did not buy the hat for myself or the wife. It looked, however, like the perfect gift for my brother. By the way, the wife got a nifty box of Alamo crackers for those dying to know.

I’ll write about the once slow but now rapidly alarming and inexorable demise of American newspapers over the next few days. Right now it’s still too depressing to actually put into words. But check back on Tuesday or Wednesday and I promise we’ll talk about it at length.

Anyway, over four days I absolutely fell in love with San Antonio. Not because it’s a place I’d want to live or anything. It’s pretty congested for a small-town kid like me. No, I simply had a great time prowling the riverwalk for food and drinks, checking out the music and enjoying the downtown architecture — a combination of Spanish, Mexican and good ol’ American know-how.

Alamo 1 San Antonio has everything a great city needs: History that makes you stop and ponder the nature of life — or that can be advertised on a key chain; a diverse population, a signature social scene such as the riverwalk; drop-dead gorgeous people; enough art to shake a stick at; bars with more than Budweiser on tap; museums out the ying-yang and food from everywhere.

Now to be fair, my favorite American city is generally the last one I visited. In this case San Antonio beat out Miami, which is where I parked for a day or two in November. And I like to say “American” city because it makes me sound like a seasoned world traveler of some contiental repute. Nothing could be further from the truth. If you take away a two-hour jaunt to a beach in Cozumel, Mexico last year, I ain’t never been outside the U.S.

I’m not proud of this.

Anyway, here — in no particular order — are my current favorite cities to visit.

San Antonio: Bright lights, a thriving nightlife and history everywhere. Good beer on tap at Maddog’s British Pub made my week.

Chicago: Museums, art, high-rise buildings, the Chicago Tribune and the Cubs make this a great place to go. My wife and I took our own Ferris Bueller tour a few years ago — we even borrowed her brother’s Corvette — and it was well worth it. I’m deeply saddened though, that I never tried to pass myself as Abe Frohman, the “Sausage King of Chicago.” Maybe next time.

Miami: Has it’s own tremendous riverwalk area in downtown, scenic vistas of Biscayne Bay and the hottest women in the world. When it comes to food there’s an international feast everywhere you turn. The art-deco look downtown is way cool, too.

Springfield, Ill. OK, it may seem like a weird choice but any city that actually wants to be known as the inspiration for “The Simpsons” has to rank up there. The capital of Illinois has great buildings and history stacked upon history. It’s the home of Abraham Lincoln after all. There’s a restored historic area just as it was when Lincoln lived there with his house intact and the former state legislature building when Lincoln served there is still around. If that’s not enough, it’s also his burial place. Other sites to see include a great home built by Frank Lloyd Wright. Visit during the Illinois State Fair to get a pork chop on a stick. If not, try the horsehoe at any local diner. It’s more gross than that smothered, covered, gagged and crapped thing they sell at the Waffle House.

New York: It’s the absolute and undisputed Mecca for museums, major sports and weirdos on this or any planet. There’s no better place to see or do most anything than New York. It’s still the greatest city in the world, bar none.

Washington D.C.: It’s impossible to list everything there is to do in D.C. and almost all of them are pretty cool – well, delete “Have a friendly drink with Dick Cheney.” I’m going back in June to check out the new ballpark where the Washington Nationals play. Everything else from there will be gravy.

Beaufort/Swansboro: OK, this is close to home and neither are worlld class cities (about the only diversity is between fishermen and shellfishermen) but there are few places to go better than these two fishing villages on the North Carolina coast if you just want to get away from it all, booze it up a little, catch a few fish and eat a few more. Lots of great restaurants, interesting shopping and historic sites on every corner. Beaufort has better bars and more restaurants but otherwise it’s a toss up. If you go to Swansboro check out Hammocks Beach State Park. It’s the best beach in North Carolina.

Tempe, Ariz: I love drinking Corona in the dry night air. Just can’t help myself.

Las Vegas: You can go to Vegas, not gamble a dime for four days and still have the time of your life. So many rides, attractions and shows that they simply can’t be accurately counted. And lots of free stuff to simply stand and watch in stunned disbelief. That water show at the Bellagio — everything on the strip stops when it starts. And for some real old-style neon Vegas, head off the main strip and go back in time. Speaking of Vegas, I saw this way cool web site last week at our meeting. Enjoy.

Sorry Dallas and Atlanta. I’ve been to both and neither make the list. They suffer from behing too much like Charlotte. And hey, a topless bar for every 100 males may be entertaining but it ain’t the arts.

Posted in: Admissions by the author • Just for laughs • Voyages and adventures | 3 Comments »

What does it take to be cruise material? Extra lime

November 10th, 2007, 5:12 pm by madisontaylor

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When I was a kid “cruising” was something we did in whatever old cars our parents let us drive on a Saturday night. Where I grew up it meant circling an area over and over again. Usually this circling had some focal point in the center of it all — a universe where teenagers could sit on the hoods of their cars and tell lies, smoke cigarettes and make eye contact but little else with members of the opposite sex. Where I came from that place was called The Burger Barn. It would not be mistaken for Casino Royale.

Today cruising is something grown-up adult people seem to do on ocean liners the size of Sri Lanka where there is unlimited food, bars on every corner and people walk in circles on layer upon layer of decks. This circling also has a focal point in the center of it all where adults tell lies, smoke cigarettes and make eye contact but little else with members of the opposite sex. In this world that place is known as the Promenade. It has the added value of having its own slot machines.
This is what I noted when my wife and I journeyed on our first cruise in late October — this one a Carnival voyage on a ship called the “Fascination.” We took this mostly free trip — we won a raffle — with some trepidation. We had our reasons.
Numero One-o: We tend to be folks who keep to ourselves. It’s not that we don’t like people or anything but they can’t really be trusted now can they?

Numero Two-o: Our abiding philosophy is why march in formation when there’s all this space off over yonder somewhere to check out.
And Numero Three-o: My wife was deathly afraid of falling overboard where she would then find herself on the buffet for sharks.
I also had serious concerns about the proper dinnertime attire. The last time I wore a suit on vacation was …well, never.
So we wondered whether we might be cruise ship material.
Quickly, though, I became attracted to the schedule. For those who don’t know, here’s the deal.
1. You get up at about 10 a.m. and knock out a mimosa because you need a pick-me-up in order to handle all of that stressful traveling in the Caribbean.
2. Then about noon you absolutely have to get a beer in order to adequately wash down the animal fat which is served up in buckets from the Lido Deck food bar.

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3. Along about 4 p.m. the waiter from Uruguay comes around with one of those gigantic fruit punch drinks laced with about six different kinds of hooch and topped with a miniature umbrella. The absolute only time to buy such a contraption is when you’re on a cruise. In most respectable bars even ordering such a libation will get your butt beat. So I get one because, well, just because.
4. So about 8 p.m. you go for dinner in the main dining room and it wouldn’t be civilized to dine without a glass of wine, would it? Of course not.
5. After that it’s time to go to the nearby piano bar. It’s unseemly to sit in a piano bar without having some type of refreshment. So after a few Coronas the next thing you know you’re sitting there with a large group of people happily singing “Bohemian Rhapsody” at the top of their lungs. You gaze at a bald man next to you who’s yelping “Mama mia, mama mia, mama mia let me go!” and hope you never look that foolish yourself. If there’s a mirror on the room, by all means avoid it.

And that’s your basic day at sea.
Who wouldn’t like that?
Here’s some other cruise leftovers ….
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In Cozumel, Mexico we bumped into quite a few very friendly people who never hesitated to ask where we were from. When we said North Carolina they universally said, “Ahh, Norte Carolina, it’s beautiful there. My relatives live there and send pictures. I have lots of relatives in America, in Norte Carolina, Arizona, Tejas …”
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The sorriest excuse for human beings we saw in Mexico were a couple of Americans hustling real estate who looked like the cast members from a cheapo local production of “Glengarry Glen Ross.” Once they found out we were in the newspaper business, they found a good excuse to go leave us alone. I believe they mentioned something about having to return library books or something.
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I can see why cruises are popular for folks who like to pound the animal fat. It was like being in a bobbing 24-hour Golden Corral.
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Six people in Jacuzzi seen from above looks a freshly opened can of Vienna sausages.

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I’ve never had better service anywhere, anytime in my life — bar none. As an aside, absolutely none of the wait staff we encountered on any level was American. They were from Eastern Europe, former Soviet republics, Asia, South America, Central America and Mexico.
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We were served drinks in something made to appear carved from a coconut. It was stamped “Made in China” and there was a telephone number listed where you could theoretically call and order all you want. Guess what people are getting for Christmas this year from the Taylor house?
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Fried plantains left out on a buffet for two hours take on the consistency of fresh gravel.

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I wish I’d traveled to Key West in my 20s. On the other hand, I’d likely never have left. I think that’s how they recruit the fairly burned-out appearing men who drive the tour trolleys there.
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This was my chance to sample escargots so I did. This is what I determined. Even snails taste good doused in lots of garlic. I will try this next with lint.
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There were no newspapers and only enough TV to say there was some (I had access to ESPN but in Spanish only). Computer access cost about $40 a minute. Well, that’s an exaggeration but not by much. This was a GREAT thing. Nothing says vacation quite like NO ACCESS TO THE OUTSIDE WORLD. If Vegas got rid of newspapers and TV I’d move there permanently.

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We were the oldest people at our dining table — and not by just a year or six. One of our more grizzled assigned dining companions began a sentence this way … “Back when I graduated from high school in ‘02 …” We must have looked positively ancient, like their former school teachers or something.
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Saw an American get into a rather loud dispute over $50 with a Mexican cab driver, a complaint he took before the only judge he had, a completely disinterested guy in uniform standing at the cab stand. I’ve seen enough episodes of “The Amazing Race” to know how that was going to come out.”
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Next time I go on a cruise I’ll make sure to buy extra stock in the Corona brewing company. My presence alone had to create a near windfall for shareholders. Send me a card for Christmas guys.

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You just can’t trust a hurricane

November 5th, 2007, 9:29 am by madisontaylor

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I didn’t mean to lie to my wife. That was not my intention at all when we had this exchange six or seven months ago.
“You’ve got nothing to worry about,” I told her as I put plans in motion for us to take a cruise to the Bahamas in late October or early November.
“Yeah right,” she responded.
“Well, you shouldn’t have much to worry about,” I quickly added, which should prove to anybody paying even remotely close attention that there was no intent to deceive my spouse whatsoever. I’m no idiot. Well, maybe I am, but I’m not stupid enough to try to put something over on Roselee Papandrea Taylor — not no way, not no how..

And hey, I’m in the newspaper racket. I try not to deal in absolutes. Anything can happen. Nothing in this life is a stone-cold lock.
What I was talking about at the time was the possibility of a hurricane. This had been a major topic of conversation ever since we learned that we had won a cruise to the Bahamas in a raffle conducted last year during the Christmas season. For me it was a major first. Up to that point I was among the millions in America who had never won a single solitary thing — no game shows, no car giveaways, no reverse drawings, no lotteries, no punch boards, no scratch and win Mountain Dews from McDonalds … well you get my drift. I do believe, however, that in a game of Monopoly once I did pass something known as Go and received $200 in bogus currency for my trouble. But it’s a fuzzy memory.
This particular raffle was a fund-raiser for a heart transplant survivors group of which my father is a member. So you know, it’s one damned tough club to join. The initiation alone is beyond the scope of what most can imagine. They’re a tough and determined bunch, those heart transplant people. Each year this organization has a Christmas party. Each year my mom buys about 50 tickets and divides them between my brother and me.
So I had the winning number last year. The prize? A cruise to the Bahamas, which included air fare to Miami. It was the deal of a lifetime.
There was a catch. We’d have to take the trip between August and Thanksgiving of this year.
As folks who lived along the coast for the past decade or more we were keenly aware that this period is the core of the Atlantic hurricane season.

“I live in hurricane-prone area,” my wife said in January before we even thought we’d be moving to Burlington. “I don’t want to vacation in one.”
“It’ll be fine,” I told her. “You’ve got nothing to worry about … well you shouldn’t have much to worry about.”
I told the travel agent to book us for something in the first week of November. I knew that even though hurricane season goes on to Nov. 30, the tropical systems become scarcer starting in late October. She said she could offer an extra day at sea at the same price if we wanted to go to Key West Fla. and Cozumel, Mexico instead of the Bahamas.
We took her up on it. That turned out to be a good move.
Anybody who followed the news last week would surely know that Tropical Storm/Hurricane Noel wreaked havoc in Haiti, the Dominican Republic, and Cuba before heading into the Bahamas at about the point we would’ve been there. As it turned out, we had rough seas — particularly as we made the trip back from Mexico to Miami. People on board the Carnival cruise liner Fascination spent Thursday lurching around upon the decks like somebody on a three-day drinking binge, which of course many were. In this case, however, the sober ones were doing the staggering. The bingers made like Johnny Cash and walked the line. Me? I fell somewhere in between — without actually falling of course.
Up to that point, my wife didn’t know much about Noel because, well, I kept it from her. I tracked the storm before we left RDU on Sunday then studied it more in the Miami Herald on the Monday we set sail. I figured it would only be a potential problem for us upon our return to Miami on Friday, if at all. I deftly folded the newspaper and, well, put it some place where she couldn’t find it.

Why worry her for nothing.
The sea was a little choppy en route to Mexico but nothing too out of the norm, according to some of the veteran cruisers I spoke to. Nobody at all was talking storm and on board the ship the only newspaper was the in-house publication advertising where the free drink specials and Mexican buffets could be found that day. You could search forever and not find a discouraging word in it.
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But on Thursday as we headed back to Miami things got decidedly rougher. Seas ranged from 7 to 9 feet. They cancelled one of those shipboard musical revues because the cruise folks were afraid the dancers could harm themselves in what could only be classified as another needless break-dancing maimfest. I contend that a couple of Margaritas and they would have been perfectly fine. Hey nobody asked.
“So there’s a storm,” my wife asked when it was apparent that there was. Luckily I had monitored it through the Pursers Desk over the past couple of days.

“Yeah, but it’s in the Bahamas,” I told her. “It may clear Miami by the time we get back there tomorrow.
“Or it might not.”
“That’s a good answer,” she said.
By Thursday night the most updated info had the storm clear of Miami with only a possibility of lingering showers for our arrival on Friday morning. As it turned out, we were greeted with sunshine and only light winds. Perfect.

Got me off the hook with my wife, too. One thing I’ve learned about hurricanes after riding out about six, you can’t predict what they’ll do or when they’ll come.
“It’s a good thing you didn’t tell me,” she said. “I’d have been worried sick.”
“I’m just glad we didn’t go the Bahamas.”

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NOTE TO READERS: I’ll post some observations about our first cruise later in the week.

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Posted in: Hurricane Alley • Voyages and adventures | Post a Comment »