Good Fortune - I Doubt It

On July 3, 1981 the crew of the Valiant sailed out of Burnham Park Harbor (Chicago) with a destination of Michigan City, Indiana.

We had slept on board the night before so that we could get an early morning start. The Captain had set the departure time at 7am (give or take 15 seconds – the Captain has always believed in punctuality). We didn’t want to be standing on the dock at 7:02 waving farewell to the crew as they headed toward the mouth of the harbor and onto Lake Michigan (as I’d seen this happen before).

At first I didn’t understand why we were going to Michigan City for the Fourth of July; Chicago had a far better fireworks display. I had found, in the past, that it was unwise to question the Captain about matters such as this. Later that day I found out from my cousin (The Admiral) that the Captain (who would turn 40 years old on the Fourth) feared a surprise party and wanted to get out of town.

The Captain plotted (manually with a chart) and then set the course for Michigan City. There was a moderate breeze from the Northwest and it was predicted that we would get there in about 7 hours.

About half way there (mid-lake) the wind died and we were just moving with the waves. It was like being in the doldrums of the Sargasso Sea, but without the seaweed. The Captain said that we would wait a while before turning on the engines and that it was a good time to have lunch. As we ate, a swarm of flies descended on us. This was the middle of the lake, where did they come from? It seems that they had been on a board that was floating in the water near the boat.

The flies were not going for our food, they were going for us. We only had two fly swatters and by the time you would zap one fly; two more would take its place. The Captain turned on the engine (this was a drastic measure, as the Captain did not like to waste fuel)! These flies were biting us like the abominable Wisconsin Deer Fly (People from Chicago call them Kamikaze Flies; they have a 5 inch wingspan and dive right at you).

In a short time we had left the Sargasso Sea, the wind picked up and we were able to kill or get most of the flies off of the boat. It was smooth sailing for the rest of the trip to Michigan City and a good time was had by all. End of story.

But, it’s not the end of this Blog.

During my life I have been attacked by about every flying insect that is known to mankind (I believe the tsetse fly is the exception). I think that these insects innately know that if they come near me, I will attempt to kill them. So like the Kamikaze Deer Flies of Wisconsin, they will tempt the fates by attacking me first.

Although it has been a rainy spring and summer, I have yet to see a mosquito. The avian population and the small reptiles that inhabit our yard must be performing their primary function; insect elimination. I can put up with the squawking birds, croaking frogs and chirping lizards as long as they do their jobs by ridding me of the flying insect population.

Earlier this summer we were besieged by sand flies; these are sneaky little (about a sixteenth of an inch long) blood suckers that you do not see landing on you and biting you. They will leave a welt the size of a mosquito bite that itches like hell.

Next came the invasion of the Gnats. I don’t believe that they bite, but they do have a tendency to fly up your nose and into your eyes (and mouth, if open). This lasted for about a week; the birds and reptile probably finally heard me cursing them for not ridding me of the plague.

Last week, while my daughter was in Maryland, it was my assigned task to take care of the dogs (they need to be walked several times per day). On one of my care giving journeys I noticed a rather large group of flying insects attacking a flower bearing shrub in the back yard. They were butterflies. As far as I know butterflies do not bite humans.

As I neared the shrub, one of them flew directly at me and landed on the left sleeve of my shirt. I was walking one of the dogs at the time and therefore moving. This was of no concern to the butterfly. In fact he moved to my chest about an inch above my hearth. Don’t think for one minute that I didn’t consider smashing the thing before he moved on; I did. It shortly left to join the others in his group, which probably saved his life.

After walking the dogs I called a friend who has a large butterfly collection adorning the walls of his Rec-room. I told him the story and described the butterfly and he said that he had one of those things on his wall. I then asked him what its name is. He sez “How the hell should I know, I just buy them for decoration purposes.” Then he tells me that in some cultures, a butterfly landing on you is considered to be the harbinger of good fortune. These must be the same cultures that believe a bird defecating on you is good luck.

We’ll see!

The Beach Bum

They Say It's Your Birthday

Today is the anniversary of the date of my birth. Actually the precise moment was at 0649 hours UT (Zulu) this morning. I celebrated last night!

I have received several emails (most of them calling me a real old Phart or a Geezer) today from friends that are older than me. If I am an old Phart or a Geezer; what does that make them? Are they older Pharts and super Geezers?

I have received one telephone call (actually two – one yesterday from a Chicago friend late last night) today, I hope that my eldest daughter and my son remember to call me later today. I don’t really care about this birthday crap; I just want them to call me for a change (instead of me calling them).

For my birthday dinner I desired a juicy Rib Eye Steak grilled to perfection. But after eating a hamburger last week, that gave me extreme gastric and intestinal distress; I think not. My second choice is Chinese food, but that type food does not agree with my digestive system either. My third choice is a Home Run Inn Pizza, but I am unable to fly to Chicago to get one (the frozen ones sold in the local grocery store are not that bad; but they are just not the same). I’ll probably end up eating a healthy salad.

On the brighter side, this morning I found the pesky and cunning fly, that has been bugging me for a week, dead on one of the window sills. I guest that it was his birthday present to me. Without ceremony, I escorted his remains outside so that the ants could give him a proper burial.

The Beach Bum

Reflections

Yesterday, I spent an inordinate time on the telephone and answering emails. It was the anniversary of the day of my birth.

This is a day that I usually spend reflecting on my past year. Some people do this on New Years Day; I do it on my birthday. That is my New Year. On this day I make my resolutions for the next year.

About three or four years ago I made a compilation CD on my computer (I’ve titled it the Eclectic Collection.) These were all songs that once had a special meaning for me. At some point in my life these were relevant songs that pertained to that particular segment of my life. I’m a very nostalgic person, therefore I enjoy reminiscing. I associate popular music with the events in my life. Each song will bring back a vivid memory of a person, place or thing.

I spent the entire day in “my cave” suffering from a stomach hangover, drinking Bloody Mary’s and Lite Beer while listening to some of my favorite music.

The first cut on the CD is Annie Lennox’s version of “The Whiter Shade of Pale”, I also have the same song by Procol Harem, but I like her version better. It was featured on the sound track of the Movie "The Net". This song reminds of a High School friend who died serving our country in Viet Nam; it was his favorite song.

The next cut is “Runaway Train” by Soul Asylum; it reminds me of my best friend in Maryland, who passed away at 54 years old in 1998. He loved that song!

Other songs on the CD include “Don’t Dream It’s Over” (not by the original group, but by Sixpence, None the Richer), “You Sang to Me” by Marc Anthony, “I am Like a Bird” by Nelly Furtado, “Drops of Jupiter” by Train, “I Try” by Macy Gray, Pink Floyd’s “Comfortably Numb” and “Long Tall Glasses” by Leo Sayer.

All of this music holds special meanings and remembrances. As I have said before, I prefer to live in the past rather than in the future.

But the two songs that touch me the most are the last two on the CD. “With Arms Wide Open” by Creed and a golden oldie by Marmalade, “Reflections of my Life”.

From Creed –
“Well I just heard the news today
It seems my life is going to change
I closed my eyes, begin to pray
Then tears of joy stream down my face.”

From Marmalade -
“The changing of sunlight to moonlight
Reflections of my life, oh, how they fill my eyes.
The greetings of people in trouble
Reflections of my life, oh, how they fill my eyes.”


The Beach Bum

Happy Birthday to Me

I’ve been getting very nostalgic today. My Birthday is tomorrow, so I am allowed to do this sort of thing. Yesterday, I spent the day on the beach ogling young women. I thoroughly enjoy thinking about the “good old days”. The days of my youth were uncomplicated. They were days of freedom, days of learning and days of simple enjoyment of life.

This morning I received a call from an “old friend” (The Captain - he’ll be 66 on the 4th of July) wishing me a happy birthday (he remembered). When were young, we live in the same neighborhood in Chicago. Although he is a few years older than I, we became friends when I drove a softball into his father’s car windshield while playing street ball.

Prior to that time my cousin (AKA the Admiral), the Captain and their other friends were well known for torturing me. They once put me into a 55 gallon trash can and then later dropped me into a Coal Bin at an abandoned warehouse. Picking on the little (and I was not so little) kid was fun. But this is the price that I paid for hanging with the older guys. I was 11 or 12 at the time and they were in their teens. To me, it was well worth the price of being abused.

Today, I reminisce on the “good old days”, tomorrow I’ll reflect about the past year (as I do on all my birthdays). Tonight, I’ll be staggering up to the Bar to see my old boss, who is also a dear friend, and will usher in the anniversary of my birth at 1:29 AM.

The Beach Bum

The Bard

I just received an unexpected and interesting call from a female acquaintance that lives in Saint Petersburg. She got my number from a friend that I had worked with for 6 years.

What was most interesting about the call is that she remembered that it is going to be my birthday in 3 days. She also recalled a conversation that we had some years ago about my love for the theater and Shakespeare. She was inviting out to see Othello this Tuesday; the anniversary of my birth. I told her that I would think about it and would give her a call back.

I was being honest when I said “I would think about it”. Usually when I say that I will think about it, it means no way in Hell!

The last live theater production that I saw was Cats in the mid 1980’s. The last time I saw a production of a Shakespeare play was in the 1960’s before I went into the Army.

In High School, I hated my first forced reading of Shakespeare. It was Macbeth and was required reading in my first semester sophomore English class. What a drag for a 14 year old. What tedious reading, almost as bad as having to read Thoreau’s Walden!

It was announced in the syllabus of the second semester sophomore English class that we would be reading two more plays by the “Bard of Avon”. I had never seen so many frowns on the faces of my classmates (except those from the girls in my Freshman Biology class when we were told that we would be dissecting a Frog).

The first play we read was Hamlet. I liked this play much better than I did Macbeth. It was probably because the key quotes were much easier to memorize.

The second was Twelfth Night, or What you Will. After two tragedies, a comedy was a refreshing read. As an added bonus our teacher offered to chaperon us at a local production of this play in the Chicago suburbs. It was on a Saturday afternoon and I had much better things to do on a Saturday afternoon. However my parents told me I was going on this field trip or I would be restricted. It was a tough choice, but I went.

Seeing Shakespeare preformed live is nothing similar to just reading the play. There is so much more emotion in the words that he had written. Even mediocre Shakespearean actors can make your heart jump and flutter. Your eyes are riveted on the stage and you wait for the next line to be spoken. You begin to understand why Shakespeare was as highly acclaimed as a writer as he was.

Seeing Shakespeare preformed live is like eating peanuts. You can’t stop at just one. It is a good idea to read the play before you see it. Just to know the characters and their motives. But the words mean nothing unless they are spoken and when you hear them spoken you will be enthralled. You must remember that Shakespeare wrote them to be preformed, not read.

My favorites are his historical plays and his comedies. One of my favorites is Henry V. An excellent production of this play was brought to the screen by Kenneth Branagh; it was almost as exciting as seeing it performed live in the theater.

When Harry the King delivers his emotion packed speech to his men before Battle of Agincourt, it reminds me of my time spent in the military and the lasting friendship and brotherhood that I had established:

“We would not die in that man's company that fears his fellowship to die with us. This day is called the feast of Crispian. He that outlives this day, and comes safe home, will stand a tip-toe when this day is nam'd, and rouse him at the name of Crispian. He that shall live this day, and see old age, will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours, and say 'To-morrow is Saint Crispian.' Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars, and say 'These wounds I had on Crispian's day.' Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot, but he'll remember, with advantages, what feats he did that day. Then shall our names, familiar in his mouth as household words- Harry the King, Bedford and Exeter, Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester- Be in their flowing cups freshly rememb'red. This story shall the good man teach his son; and Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by, from this day to the ending of the world, but we in it shall be remembered-
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers; For he to-day that sheds his blood with me shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile, this day shall gentle his condition; and gentlemen in England now-a-bed shall think themselves accurs'd they were not here, and hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks that fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.

The Beach Bum