The Republic, In-Laws, and Jerry Jeff

(With a nod to Texas singer/songwriter/legend Jerry JeffWalker) Packin’ up our bathing suits and cowboy boots. Hauling in the perch traps and taking up the trot line. Deflating the air mattress, rolling up the sleeping bag, and washing the used sheets and towels. The last chopped brisket sandwich and chicken fry are just fond gastronomical memories. Great grandparents are showered with loving hugs and tear-stained kisses. The dog gets a good scratching behind her ears. The creek receives a final nod in appreciation of its relinquished bounty. A sure sign we must be going home.

I married a Texas gal. It is easily the best choice I’ve ever made. Truthfully, Em really chose me, I guess. Rumor has it that I drugged her and when she awoke she was married to me. Some initially thought I must have come with a monstrous dowry to get her father to agree. But, once they got to know me better, that thought quickly became quite laughable. In any case I certainly out-kicked my coverage. Along with all the wonderful perks that marrying a Texas girl carries – loves sports, especially football, loves cooked meat, loves freedom and independence and all that Texas (and a few other U.S. states) embraces, loves a good time, loves me (thank goodness) – is the opportunity it affords us to spend time in Texas with her family. I’m a lucky guy. I have awesome in-laws.

Don’t believe me?

My wife’s father is an ex-Marine. His mere presence quietly demands respect. Other than that, though, you’d never know of his military background. The man tears up at Hallmark Card commercials. But I’m not about to make fun of him. Anyway, he interviewed me and hired me for my first job in Texas. Soon thereafter I began dating his only daughter.

He didn’t shoot me.

He didn’t even fire me.

I think he teared up a little. I like to think it was out of joy.

Even more impressive was his reaction when I dropped by to see his “little girl” after I had just been to a tennis tournament at Fairway Oaks Country Club Tennis Pavilion in Abilene to see Andre Agassi. Just for kicks, I had borrowed a long clip-on hair extension from my sister that matched my hair color perfectly, clipped it in my hair, and covered the clip with a Nike tennis cap. Donned in a Nike windsuit, I resembled Agassi (from a distance) and I waltzed right into the tennis pavilion to see what kind of reactions I could get. Even though I didn’t have the eye brows to really pull it off, stares, whispers, finger points, and a couple of camera flashes while I hovered near his private SUV made it worthwhile. Afterwards, when I knocked on the door to Em’s family’s house, I was greeted by her suddenly troubled and befuddled dad. He is typically on the contrary side of piercings, tattoos, and long hair on guys. So, at best he wasn’t really sure how to take me, this different, albeit likable, guy who is dating his daughter.

Maybe he was deciding how to dispose of me before Em came out of her room.

As the moment became increasingly awkward, I tried, unsuccessfully, to explain why I looked the way I looked. He simply replied, “Uh huh.”

He found a way to accept me and my colorful ways, though, gave his blessing for our marriage, and we get along wonderfully. Not only is he my father-in-law, but he’s a true friend and confidant. We’ve rubbed off on each other. I wear a cowboy hat while working in the yard and he’ll put on a Hawaiian shirt and go to a Jimmy Buffett show with me.

“Sure,” you may be saying, “winning over dad is one thing. What about the dreaded mother-in-law?”

Get this: my wife and I moved to South Carolina when she was eight months pregnant with our first child, which also happened to be the first grandchild on either side of the family. Actually, my mother-in –law claims that I snatched her daughter from her and stole away in the dark of night, robbing her of that first proud grandmother experience in the most sinister of ways. She probably has every right to grab my eyelids and yank them right up over and around the top of my head. But, somehow, she loves me. She’s the best. I love it when she comes to visit. That’s right, guys, I said “love”. We get along incredibly well and laugh a lot, usually at ourselves. She will also go to a Buffett show, but it’s not really a stretch for her.  She has a magnet on her refrigerator that says “I don’t spoil my grandkids, I’m just very accommodating.” Spot on. As close to a perfect grandmother as one can get. Not too shabby as a mother-in-law, either.

So, my in-laws are fantastic. That’s how we are able to spend nearly a month of our summer vacation with them in their home on Sandy Creek, which runs into Lake Livingston, just outside of Trinity, Texas, every year.

Our summer Texas whirlwind tour is always a blast. This year’s was no exception. My son enjoyed his 6^th year attending CampOlympia, a fabulous summer sports camp. We compared the football stadiums of the University of Texas, Texas A&M, and LSU – all from first-hand views. We took a Hummer limousine to watch a Texas Rangers game and to two Arlington-area restaurants, one before and one after the game.

We enjoyed a beautiful sunset beside a gorgeous 99 thousand-gallon infinity pool surrounded by palm trees and iron gas-powered tiki torches in the shade of an incredible natural rock outdoor living area…in west Texas!  

We did the food truck lunch (la Barbecue is the best ever), swam in a natural spring-fed pool that remains 62 degrees year round on a 106-degree day, and joined a sea of good-timers for a concert at Blues on the Green in Austin.

 

We stood where legends have played in Gruene Hall and then floated the Comal River. We dined in luxury (best clam chowder ever) after a chasing tennis balls at the gorgeous Abilene Country Club. We took in “Wicked” and treated a couple of special “girls” to hair appointments at American Girl in Houston.

I fished most days, accompanied by snowy egrets, blue herons, pelicans, wood ducks, cormorants, and a couple of small alligators.

 

We paid homage to the Mississippi River, the gulf coast of Mississippi and Alabama, Mobile Bay, Lulu’s Restaurant at Homeport, The Chimes in Baton Rouge, Joe Allen’s in Abilene, the windfarms of Snyder and Sweetwater and big Sam Houston in Huntsville. We swam, watched fireworks on Lake Livingston, took in numerous youth baseball tourneys, hit the cinema a time or 2, and enjoyed loving fellowship with friends and family all over the state of Texas.

 

How can a family of 4 on 2 teachers’ salaries manage all of this? Simple. An incredible blessing of loving, generous, and kind friends and family.

So, when we get back home to Carolina, to another set of family and friends who are just as generous, loving and kindhearted, and they ask us what we miss most, we’ll just smile and say, “We loved it all!”

This Light Show a Nature-Inspired By-Product - Experiences in Amazement, Part III

AKA - Light Show III. In contrast to the previous 2 posts (fireflies, lightning), the only natural aspect to this edition involves the surroundings and not the show itself. Still, an awe-inspiring moment nonetheless.  

Driving on the flat plains of west Texas bores some to tears. To me, though, the slowly (very slowly) rolling landscape of mesquite scrub resembles an open petrified ocean, freeze dried and converted to earth in some cosmic flash. Change the hues from sandy clay to deep blues and dark emeralds and replace the occasional cell tower to a trawler and you're offshore in the Atlantic.  

The terrain carries a unique beauty that stretches for hundreds of miles, painted by the most vivid, molten sunsets seen anywhere. Typically, flat top hills sporadically line the horizon at various distances - fossilized rogue waves to this sea lover's imagination. The only objects that confuse this whole creative dusty-dry to salty-soaked transformation are the occasional oil wells. If I stretch it, they could be buoys. Maybe. Too much of a jump, though, even for me.

Now, though, the wells have been joined by another intrusion of man into this wild landscape. A drive down Texas Highway 84 from Snyder to Sweetwater will present the driver with a sea of wind turbines. Thousands of smooth white blades slowly twirl atop mammoth obelisks, all facing the same direction, not too unlike sunflowers following the sun, except these space-age machines move with the wind. The view is surreal, to say the least. In the midst of pure ruggedness have sprouted acres upon acres of these perfectly symmetrical giants, completely throwing off nature's own rougher symmetry. And yet, it's strangely mesmerizing, peaceful possibly. Not necessarily disappointing, like a beachfront McDonald's on Fiji. Rather, it works in some odd way.  

By day, the scene catches the eye and keeps luring it back. Thankfully, stretches of the road provide little, if any, traffic, making it easier on the wandering eye. But at night, oh at night, is when "the moment" happens. It completely pops when driving south from Snyder, thanks to the fall from something of a shelf that drops you into the valley of the turbine farm. When following this path in the nighttime's dark blanket, dimly lit by a sky full of sparkling silver stars, one must make a conscious effort to refrain from applying the breaks, pulling to the side of the road, and placing a call to UFO Central. It really looks like the mother ship has landed. The mother of all mother ships!. And if the visitors occupying this behemoth aren't friendly, we're toast. For on top of each of the wind turbines is a blinking red light, like those on any tower that may interfere with air travel. But, here's the part that causes immediate jaw-droppage, the lights are synchronized. Yes. They all blink at the same time. 

The unison of red pulses hypnotically grasps everyone in the vehicle, and the wide-eyed gregorian chants soon begin.

 

"Ooohhh woowww."

"Maaaaann."

"Thaaaat'ssAaawwwessooomme."

"WwhhhooooooooaaaaaaaaDuuude."

 

That last chant was mine.

As we make the slow, not very steep, not very elevated descent into this transformed landscape, the feeling is a very otherworldly type of coolness. Even though the illumination is man-made, the sheer area covered makes the scene as impressive as nature's synchronized light show performed by the Congaree Lightning Bugs that we were lucky enough to catch earlier in the summer. This is indeed another rare "wow" moment. That makes a trifecta for the summer, which may qualify as a moment in and of itself. And to think, summer's not yet over. Are the moments of cosmic alignment, when amazement and wonder converge for a brief moment for those awake enough to recognize them, over for now? I'll let you know, but I have a feeling...

From Lightning Bug to Lightning - Experiences in Amazement, Part II

Within a few days of observing the rare and amazing unison light show of the fireflies of Congaree Swamp (Part I), I found myself on our bi-annual pilgrimage to Texas, or as I like to call it, The Republic - birthplace of  Tex-Mex, "Remember the Alamo", and…my wife. 

We make the 16-hour trek for 2 of the 3 big breaks from school - Christmas and summer. Spring break is typically beach time. I feel certain that if my in-laws ever move to the Texas coast, Spring Break would then qualify for the traveling-to-Texas trifecta.  

I don't mind the drive. Really. My gypsy soul tends to get restless near the end of May and November in anticipation of hitting the open road. My family has seemed to accept this about me, if not acquired the quality themselves. It certainly makes for more pleasant traveling, if nothing else. We have our traditions (always stop and gaze upon the Mississippi River, no matter what time of day or night) and games ("OK, who will spot a green convertible, giant peanut, or goat first?"). All in all, it's a wonderful family experience. 

Ironically, the only real arguments that break out are over the one thing placed in our vehicle to help ease the drive time monotony - the DVD player. Deciding on a movie, who gets to choose the movie, in what slot the movie should be returned in the multiple DVD case, who gets to hold the DVD case, who gets to hand the DVD to Mom to place in the player, at what volume should the movie be played, at what angle should the screen be set to avoid the most glare, the proper way to clean a DVD disc, why the DVD is skipping, why our DVD player a piece of junk, why we should or should not buy a new minivan because of our crummy DVD player, why Dad threw that last DVD out the window, was that a bad word Dad said, why Mom is looking at Dad like that... 

You get the idea.   

This trip was of the summer variety. We left late afternoon and hit Atlanta a few brief moments after the heavens had unleashed their fury upon the metropolitan area, catching the northern end of a storm that produced 65 mph. winds, quarter-sized hail, blinding rain, lots of stop-and-go driving and flashing hazards on the road. Horrendous conditions for driving through Chunky, Alabama, much less traffic-swollen Atlanta.  

Little did I know that this storm was just the beginning of a wondrous display of natural beauty, the likes of which I had never experienced before.  

One amazing light show produced and directed by Mother Nature (read about the synchronized firefly display previously posted) is uncommon. But that was just a warm-up for her main event.  

As soon as we cleared the rain of Atlanta, the westward skies remained cloudy. I anticipated driving through pockets of storms until we decided to stop for the evening. Not my choice for a pleasant, peaceful nighttime trek across the southeast. Any other time, rain is pleasant and peaceful. I love it. Just not when I'm trying to navigate my way around and between 18-wheelers, motorcycles, stalled Oldsmobiles, the texting teenager, and ma and pa going 30 in the lefthand lane...at night.  

That, thankfully, was not the case. Instead, we were treated to the most unbelievable lightning show this side of the Mississippi. The only reason I know this is because we stopped for the night just east of Jackson. It may have been the same on the other side of the river. I just don't know for sure.  

This was no ordinary lightning, if lightning can ever really be ordinary. No sir, no run-of-the-mill cloud-to-ground snoozers here. Not your everyday tree-blaster. Not even a brief cloud illuminator. The show we saw lit the entire skyward horizon between the outermost peripheries of our vision as we gazed westward. The electric fireworks paused for no longer than 10 seconds during the remainder of the night, a trip from Atlanta to Jackson, Mississippi. Not only did we get to see how the Earth would put on a Pink Floyd laser light show, we got to witness this marvel for hours nonstop. Were it not for other vehicles on the road, I'm not sure we actually needed headlights to illuminate I-20. 

As my passengers quietly nodded off into a sleep, no doubt filled with dreams of wonder, I realized I was privy to another one of those rare moments of wonder myself. It was simply and staggeringly beautiful. As the lights of Jackson appeared on the far horizon, Van Morrison quietly serenaded my drive with "Moondance", and the light show played on. I knew this was a truly special moment. I also knew I needed to stop for the night. The next day would hold more travel time (we were a little over half way now), more games, a stop at the Mighty Mississippi, and the part I anticipate the most: who knows what else.
 

The Rare Light Show of the Lightning Bug - Experiences in Amazement, Part I

You know those moments when the simultaneous occurrence of events that, when taken individually, may just be noticeable, results in something unforgettable? It's like at that one particular moment, there is an alignment in the cosmos and you are lucky enough to experience it. A serious "whoa - this is AWESOME!!" moment. 

I had the pleasure of experiencing this feeling a few times in recent days, which is nice in and of itself. It seems these moments occur randomly with lengthy intervals of time between occurrences, unless you are visiting places of natural wonder, watching The Masters live, or shooting a layout for a Sports Illustrated swimsuit edition. Then, these feelings pile up so often you begin to backtrack to figure out when you quantum-leapt out of reality. 

Interestingly, my recent stumblings into amazement involved natural nighttime light shows. This is the first of those moments and it occurred after reading a quick blurb in my local paper about fireflies lighting in synchronization at nearby Congaree National Park (The State article).

 

image courtesy of thestate.com

Highly doubtful, I knew this required a first-hand look. So, I loaded up the family and headed out. I figured I would pull a classic Clark Griswold moment, building up the excitement only to be met by groans and disappointment.

"Really? You put us out here on the buffet line at Mosquito Ryan's for this?".

I anticipated having to defend myself. "Well, I guess if you try hard enough you can see a pattern...maybe...right?".

When we arrived at the park, we were not the only ones who had read about this firefly show. There were about 30 others, many of whom seemed to be veteran firefly watchers. I knew this because they had on lightweight long sleeved shirts and pants and wore those hats that field scientists in the movies wear. This gave me a glimmer of hope. Surely these professionals wouldn't be duped. We were in t-shirts and shorts (the temperature was in the 90's after all -at 8:00 in the evening nonetheless), but armed with high-octane, Amazon Jungle-ready insect napalm repellent.

"Um, Dad? This spray kinda burns my skin."

"That's good son - means it's working."

"How?"

"Well, if it's just a little uncomfortable for you, think about how it will make that tiny mosquito feel."

"True."

 

The sun sank behind the swamp canopy, and with it my anticipation. We spotted a few fireflies, but nothing we couldn't have seen in the backyard at home. The show seemed to have been cancelled.

"We regret to inform you that the fireflies have suddenly taken ill. We suspect a reaction to the DEET that seems to be pervading our air space tonight, thanks to the Griswold family. In any case there will be no performance tonight."

But then it happened. The moment. It started with whisperings and murmurs in the astonished crowd. Then the show began in earnest. I know this is cliche, but if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes I wouldn't have believed it. It was a true symphony of synchronized luminescence. Try to visualize floating Christmas tree lights, blinking at a heartbeat's rate, in unison, along the thick darkness emerging from the swamp forest floor. Surreal. Magical. A true "wow" moment.

I found out this dazzling spectacle occurs in only 3 places in the world and for only a short run of time. I happened to be in one of those places at the right time. And I had witnesses.

So, not only did I experience a moment of wonder, but I was also the hero.

 

Bonus.

 

Salve to my Soul

image from coastalliving.com

Don't tell the other guys in this world, but I have been a subscriber to Coastal Living (coastalliving) since its inception. Me, not my wife. She reads it, but it's mine. In case you're not familiar with the publication, it is basically Southern Living for the coast. If you're not familiar with Southern Living, that's OK - this isn't about the magazine. That may appear in the future. This is about something that was written on the tiny spine of a Coastal Living edition from months ago (I keep them all, much to my clutter-destroying wife's chagrin).


I didn't notice the statement quoted on the spine. Do you read that section of the magazines to which you subscribe? I didn't think so. The magazine, like so many other reading materials had made its way to our bathroom. While brushing my teeth one morning, the name "Jimmy Buffett" caught my eye. This is not surprising, given my high-ranking position in the Parrothead army. He was quoted on the spine of the magazine, which had obviously sat complacent on the shelf, dust layering the dreamy ocean-front cover painted in aquas and teals. The quote read, "The ocean has always been a salve to my soul."

I think if Jimmy could reword the quote, he'd use the word "sea" in place of "ocean" just to give more pop to his alliteration (sea-salve-soul). Still, the meaning of the saying scored a direct hit with me. I've always considered my time in the ocean a spiritual renewing of sorts. Just wading up to my waist, arms extended to the sides, palms down, feeling the rise and fall of the waves, puts my soul at ease. The salty coolness, rhythmic motion, and blue-green vastness seem to cleanse me from the inside out.

All of my favorite shore side activities - surfing, fishing, shark-tooth hunting, swimming - are all components of a larger religious ritual to restore my well-being and bring peace and perspective to my chaotic existence. When I finally perch upon the sand and gaze out upon the unending majesty of the ocean, all of my frustrations, troubles, unknowns, both petty and paramount, seem to deflate to their proper place, much lower down the ladder of importance.



image courtesy of
3donlinewallpaper.blogspot.com

Maybe it's simply a peripheral of my escapist mentality, but this restoration makes me a much more pleasant person - more caring, more thoughtful, more cognizant of others, more appreciative of the simpler things, more aware of life on a living planet.



The tune in my head today was Knee Deep , a collaborative effort by the Zac Brown Band and(who else?) Jimmy Buffett. It plays a good backdrop to this post and leads me to believe that I'm not alone in purpose when I break away to the beach. Ahhhhhh.......

Click here for info about the song and a video - http://www.billboard.com/column/chartbeat/weekly-chart-notes-jimmy-buffett-lady-gaga-1005304102.story#/column/chartbeat/weekly-chart-notes-jimmy-buffett-lady-gaga-1005304102.story