Dad is sick

Dad is sick…

Seriously sick…

He wasn’t a couple of months ago when I was here after Mom’s death… He was healthy, vital, planning for a long future…

Dad is never sick.

Now he is sick… He had a friend drive him to the emergency room a week ago or so… he hurt, couldn’t sleep… had trouble chewing food…

He isn’t a complainer… He works through it… but this wasn’t working… he couldn’t sleep, he couldn’t eat… He was in pain…

He was admitted… they acknowledged he was sick… they didn’t know why or how… He is old… 83 years Monday… I don’t know if they thought that his illness was age or…? This might be an issue… Mom died recently… at least one Dr. suggested that he wanted to die… She was wrong… but didn’t really care…

T and I had a trip planned… a trip to New Orleans for the Rotary Convention… We were on the road… Dad had a friend… a close friend, the extra brother… call, and tell us he was in the hospital… this was huge…. Dad does not bother us with his minor issues… Dad was in the hospital…

He didn’t want us to worry… (we worry whether he wants us to or not)

T and I headed to New Orleans… for the Rotary Convention… Dad was on our minds… Always…

We arrived… did dinner at Commander’s Palace… The next day we participated in a Rotary project at the New Orleans Mission… We helped build a library… It was good…

Conversations with Dad suggested all was not as well as hoped… Dad was sicker than expected and getting worse… We began to make plans…

We dined at Mulate’s with our club, along with Tina’s step mother… her surviving mother… family… But, Dad was in the back of our minds…

By Saturday morning we decided… we needed to leave… a plan was hatched… drive to Florida on Sunday… The plan had many parts… re-write the airline tickets… rent a car… go… Sunday morning we left the hotel early and took a cab to the rent a car lot on Canal Street… from there it was left to get on I-10… then a right on to Hwy 19 in Florida 400 miles later… followed by a left onto Cortez Blvd maybe 150 miles later… the Hospital was on the left side… The trip was just under 600 miles across 4 states, with only three turns…

We saw Dad… He was in pain but awake… It was all downhill from there…

From Arrival it was clear that the Big Easy is different… there are bars… set up for arriving guests… not just the common bars where you drink while waiting for your flight… there are people with looking for their bags at the carrousel with a beer in their hand… Even inside at the airport you could feel the heat and the humidity… Clara Patterson called it “Swelterly…”

We reclaim our checked luggage, then wait in line for a cab…

The driver liked to keep the windows down… (he asked if it was ok) It seemed right…

We looked for Katrina damage on the ride in… at first there was little sign… then you see a building with its roof covered in tattered blue tarps… other buildings now abandoned… one nearly collapsing… From the cab trip to the Convention Center and our hotel you might not have noticed it if you didn’t know, but you and everyone else knows. The idea seems kind of ghost like…

We ask the cab driver if he was here for Katrina… he says no, meaning he was living in New Orleans for the storm, but got out early and wasn’t trapped for the aftermath… He had stayed in California for 18 months before returning… his house gone, his business gone… Now he drives a hack…

The Hotel has a doorman, Bruce… He was in Texas for a year plus after the storm…

We checked in… we walked across the street and picked up our badges and stuff (yes, you need a stinking badge) the badge line was unorganized… people were impatient… but the conversations were interesting… we were standing in line with two gentlemen from Gabon and a woman from Pittsburg. With badges in hand we went looking for a snack and ended up at the bar at Mulates… sitting next to Rotarian from Santa Cruz and his wife… Two beers each and a plate of alligator later we headed back to the hotel…

We met friends… cleaned up… then gathered in the lobby and went off to a dinner at the Commander’s Palace… An old time, old line New Orleans restaurant. A dinner with friends… a nice time… a good time…

To home (the Marriott Convention Center) to bed… Up early the next day… Downstairs, Coffee, then off to the New Orleans Mission… for our project… set up a library… We asked for directions along the way… locals seemed concerned we were going there.

The project was good… successful… bridge building… the folks there were thankful… there was a lunch… with Marti-gras gifts… I got a Zulu coconut… the coolest gift in the world… there was a ribbon cutting with the RI president…

Having done good, T and I went back to the hotel, showered (we needed it) then walked to the French Quarter… looked about, found beer and wine.. then returned to Mulates near our hotel for more beer, a rendezvous with Maureen, and eventually dinner… In the bar we met for a second time a New Orleans cop… I had taken his portrait the previous day… Interesting conversations… new friends…

We dined… we talked with friends… T & I danced…

Now home… tired… Blogging… to bed…

Headed South

The day began early... Too early... Well before dawn... Up, shower, make coffee, wake the son, the driver, then into the car for the drive to the airport...

Now 6:50 am. SFO... line up to check luggage... For security... For the baggage scan... For the scanner (the old fashion metal detector, not the hands over your head then wait for the results body scanner)

Find the gate... Find seats... Then... Wait

The trip has begun... Off for New Orleans... Just in time to watch the Mississippi rise. Here in San Francisco it is dawn... The sky transitioning from dark, to a pale glow... Now to grey... I suspect we will be long gone before the sun wins and the sky turns blue...

Line up at the gate... There are announcements about carry-ons... There are always announcements about carry-ons... We are both handed pink "Planeside Valet Baggage" tags... Everyone is handed a pink tag... They seem to expect us to check our computer bags... We decline their kind offer... Repeatedly... The gentleman (aka the baggage monkey) suggests that T take her laptop out and hold it in her lap...) The flight attendant intercedes... We retain possession of our precious stuff...

We board, and realize why they wanted us to surrender our stuff... The plane is tiny... Not Cessena Tiny, but really small for a commercial jet... (this is a Delta flight between SFO and LA... Not the Fresno connector or the Redding-Medford-Salem-Portland milk run). The plane is a CRJ900..(Canadian Regional Jet)... It has 1/2 seating up front in the "High Class" (1st class, Business Class, More money, and "paid more money than you class) seating. Back in steerage, with the common folk, where T and I are seated they squeeze in 4 seats... Which leaves almost no space for any carry on luggage. In the 16th and 17th century The Royal Navy allotted 14" per man to hang his hammock on a Man of War... We didn't get much more... Maybe 18"...

The flight itself was fine... Outside coastal California was sheathed in clouds... I read a little... I looked through the stuff in the seat back pocket... I discovered that Delta's air sick bags have a cheery "Feel Better" printed on them diagonally in large letters... I planned to work on the blog until they announced it was time to turn off electronic device... By 7:14 we had started our decent. Instead of an announcement, The flight attendant just said "turn that off" as she walked by... (no Please offered…)

Once on the ground, those who had surrendered their stuff curtsy of th pink tags where waiting in the jet way for their stuff as the rest of us de-planed

Neither of us were impressed with Skywest...

Now LAX - aboard our plane for New Orleans... Once again watching our fellow passengers trying to stuff their too many, too large carry-ons into the too small overhead bins...


The flight attendant is repeating the various pleas about clearing aisles, luggage stowage, and electronic devices... Much like this one. Privately he notes the folks clogging the aisles are the same folks who don't know how to merge on the freeway blocking progress on the 405 this morning... As they close the cabin door, I power down the I-pad...


Now having reached 10,000 feet, with Catalina Island visible out the window... I turn the I-pad back on and settle in...


In LA, between flights, we found food (OK Mexican, on paper plates with terrorist safe plastic knives and forks... We skipped the Bloody Marys and beer that many of our fellow travelers were consuming for breakfast... We considered the option, but decided it sounded too much like the lyrics of a country music song (The beer I had for breakfast tasted good so I had one more for desert...)


After eating we found seats near at the gate and watched the parade pass by, while listening to announcements about over sold flights (our's included) and lack of space onboard for carry-ons... they offered to gate check luggage... Some took them up on it... It was deja'vu allover again.


In fact we had no problems boarding, and there was plenty of space in the overhead bins... of course we witnessed one man Trying to stuff a bag overhead that was about the size of a pigmy hippo with wheels... Mean time blocking the aisle like a 70's Caddy doing 50 mph in the fast lane of the 405 with his left turn blinker on... Kind of clueless.


I blog, I read, I nap... I stare out the window looking for landmarks... But we are seated on the right side of the plane... Looking south, and our route takes us low across Arizona, New Mexico and Texas... A land with few landmarks or features that can be identified from 35,000'. I read a bit wore, then tried napping again... With some measure of success at each... Then tried the window again... I am relaxing... By now West Texas should have given way to central and east Texas... But I could only assume as my view was blocked by clouds... The captain announces we will soon start our decent for landing... He makes the traditional "Thank You for choosing Delta" speech.


Outside the cloud cover is thinning... Offering glimpses of east Texas and Louisiana... Cajun country... At first the rivers, the bayous look full but it hard to tell from above... As we get lower there are more signs of the flood... Here and there a creek has over flowed it's banks... Now, the low lands on the river side are flooded... We have arrived…

Fighting a bull

I once fought a bull… a real life male bovine, with horns… in a classic bull ring in Puerto Vallarta Mexico…

There might have been tequila involved… Hell yes… there was tequila… more tequila that might be advised… tequila shots… from crockery shot glasses hung from a lanyard about the neck… my neck, my wife’s neck… other people’s neck…

At the time my profession was selling forklift rentals and service… and the national company, which I represented had a sales contest… I and several of my co-workers won… the prize being a trip to Puerto Vallarta … in Mexico… at a beach side resort hotel…

Included were lots of activities… dinners, tours and such… one of which was a Mexican evening at a bull ring… This was not the traditional “the bull dies” bull fight… this was a gringo show, with donkey races (after chugging beers) and dinner… but we, the guests were offered a chance to fight the bull…

We arrived via a bus… greeted by people hanging the crockery shot glasses on leather lanyards about our necks, filling them with tequila, again, again, again… as we walked down the olive tree shaded lane between two low adobe walls…. To the bull ring…

We consumed the offered tequila… more than might have been advised… Judgment might have been impaired…

I took a chance to steal away, to see the bull… a small bull… less than 200 lbs.. lean… young… not the massive animal of the classic fight… who would be afraid of a baby bull… I decided to accept the opportunity to do combat with a bull… to fight a bull… One other of our number also stepped up to the challenge…

I felt that as one of my companies top salesmen, someone who they were rewarding for their success, success that made the company successful, they would not risk my heath… after all then needed me… that dog wouldn’t hunt… they didn’t care about me apparently…

We ate dinner… the donkey race commenced… the lovely Tina took part… she was ok with the donkeys… but the race also included chugging a beer… not the lovely Tina’s strong suit… she didn’t win... but she did hang on to the donkey’s back…

It was time for the Bull Fight… the other gentleman went first… He held the cape… the bull charged… he stepped aside… the bull passed by… the bull charged again… this time the bull hooked the cape with his horn and pulled it from the matador’s hands…

In a traditional Mexican (or Spanish) bull fight, generally, the bull loses… and as a result he loses his life… The bull does not get to learn from his experience… but this bull had fought the dreaded gringo many times… he had learned the arts of combat in the ring… something that we gingos had not had a chance to do, or learn… We were novices at the mercy of the experienced bull… a bull which chose to show no mercy…

The bull charged my fellow gringo… he tilted his head, turning the horns on one side downward… he hooked the novice gringo “want to be” bull fighter between his legs and tossed him head over heels… the bruise, on the inside of his leg was significant… the bull had won…

Now it was my turn…

I stood in the ring… cape in hand… they release the bull… the bull which had shown no mercy to my fellow gringo…

He charged… I pulled the cape back, I stepped back, the bull passed… Ole!

The bull turned… He looked at me… he snorted the challenge… he charged again… again I pulled the cape back, I stepped back… the bull passed… Ole! So far all was going pretty well…

The bull turned again… again he looked at me… again he snorted the challenge… again he charged… again I tried to pull the cape back but this time his experience showed, and he pulled the cape away from my hands…

Again the bull turned and snorted his challenge… I, without cape or other defense, stood, I against the bull… Things were not looking good…

As a child I had spent much time in the Kern River Valley, in the Southern Sierra… we had a family cabin… a family friend nearby had horses… we helped gentle them… helped break them… the local rodeo grounds were nearby… we attended regularly… the events included “Bull dogging” a cowboy ridding next to a running cow/bull and roping, jumping on, and pulling it down… a cow/bull of a size similar to the bull now charging at me…

Back to Mexico… As the bull charged, twisted, turned his head and prepared to hook my leg a memory of those old rodeos returned… and I grabbed his horns, and gently twisted him over onto his side… on to his back… I grabbed his legs in one hand, and raised the other… I won!

Cheers erupted from the drunken gringo audience…

The solution was not conventional, but it had the advantage of success… the local cowboys were concerned for the heath of their animal… (not for my heath… for the heath of the bull which if successful would have emasculated me… ) Their bull was fine… his pride bruised… but he was fine… Pity the next foolish gringo…

I was pleased with the outcome… as was my wife… I had fought the bull… and won.

The River Rose All Day

Those of us who are weather junkies have been watching the City of Memphis… The Mississippi River has been rising… the Army Corps of Engineers has dynamited one levee flooding farm land, but taking pressure of the levees around Memphis…

As of this morning the river was at 47’ 7”… it is expected to crest tomorrow, May 10^th… at 48’, then slowly drop… Then all that water has to move downstream…towards New Orleans and the Gulf of Mexico.

The National Weather service is predicting that the Mississippi River, at New Orleans will crest at 19.5’ above flood stage on May 23… The Levees are designed to protect the city to 20’…

Tina and I are planning a trip… a trip to New Orleans… arriving on May 18, departing on the 26^th… assuming the river doesn’t rise and flood the streets of Evangeline… In the back of my mind I am hearing a song, by Randy Newman…

Louisiana, 1927

The river rose all day
The river rose all night
Some people got lost in the flood
Some people got away alright
The river have busted through cleared down to Plaquemines
Six feet of water in the streets of Evangeline…

Our blacksmith is suggesting at take flippers, a mask and snorkel… I would, but the airline luggage rules are a pain…

What ever happens, it should be an interesting trip