memories


15
Jul 19

Don’t call me Zippy

Since we couldn’t dive that Friday afternoon, we went into the tree tops. The Yankee and I and a couple from our boat and two people we’d made friends with over the course of the week. We’d taken a shore dive with them, had a few dinners together and commiserated about that one bratty kid that was intent on ruining everyone’s trip. Anyway,

Eight of us from the resort went to this particular zip line experience. I think The Yankee and I were the only one who had never done this before. And, of course, she was great at it immediately, looking like Indiana Jones up there:

But don’t take my word for it. Here’s a brief video clip:

They had us pulling down on that cable to slow down, and depending on the line you were on and the distance and speed you covered, you were supposed to start the slow down at different times. I wasn’t always clear on when that time was. And, also, I kept over-rotating somehow. It was all great fun.

We did something like 13 zip lines on our way from one of the island’s high points down to sea level. And when we were all safely on the ground we met a new friend:

That evening we had dinner with our New Mexico friends above and most of the survivors from our dive boat. Someone there had the coolest idea among all of the long-shot “Let’s all get together and do this again one day” notions. They brought along postcards to share contact information. I have to remember to do that, otherwise, it’s business cards a-plenty, and who needs that? The last thing you’re trying to do on vacation is remind yourself of overcooked job titles. We just need emails for Box folders and a postcard gives you all that extra space for a personalized message, and dive jokes, too.

And, yes, I think I can get another two or three days worth of photos out of our trip. Tomorrow, we’ll talk about dolphins!


20
Jun 19

Happy anniversary to us

Moves, trips, gains, losses. It’s all just noise in the way of things that matter.

The times she does a favor for me matters not next to how she wrinkles her nose when she giggles. The times I’ve done something for her are inconsequential to the feeling of all of those times she’s fallen asleep in my arms.

You can count the big things. I would chart the shared knowing look, the now routine lunch, the still-excited feeling I get when our time apart has ended, sitting together and talking about absolutely nothing, all the many times she’s patiently sat with me while I thought through something out loud, the peaceful quiet when we read next to one another, the number of times a day I can think “This is one of those moments.” These things, and all of those like them, are what make people a pairing, anyway. I long ago learned to count the things that matter.

The only trouble is I lost count long ago. Or maybe I can’t count that high anyway. This is the number the calendar would tell you: 3,652 days married. Or, if you prefer a bigger number: 5,298 days together. The number of laughs and smiles and adventures is too high. The tally of memories, great hugs, silliness, seriousness and hot dates would stretch too far. The list of blessings is too extensive to know, probably, and would be deeply humbling to understand.

So let the number be this: ten years ago today, my uncle performed our wedding service. When he agreed to do the job he said, in as many words, that he would tie us in a knot we wouldn’t soon be able to unravel. It was his way to put me at ease, I’m sure. It did, and I still thank him for all of that. I’m grateful for that and all of the important parts that make up everything between then and now, and the simple thought of what still may come.


6
Jun 19

The 75th anniversary of D-Day

A good friend of ours is a US Army officer, a paratrooper. Five years ago, he had the opportunity to jump into France as a part of the 70th anniversary ceremonies commemorating D-Day.

He jumped with this flag, which hangs in my office.

Here’s a video of his jump. He went out the door of a German plane on a beautiful day over Normandy.

That view makes it difficult to imagine jumping into the dark, knowing the enemy you’ve been training for is waiting below.

Ernie Pyle came ashore soon after and helped people back home understand what the men and boys in Europe were up against:

And then, of course, Ronald Reagan talked about some of those famous exploits at the 40th anniversary:


28
May 19

Two of the things here are reaching their potential

One of our friends and former students came back to town:

Dominick and I had lunch at the new pizza joint. We spent the afternoon catching up and telling tales out of … well … school. He’s been gone for a year, studying out west and doing great things in the universe.

I beat him, once again, at foosball in a not too demanding best-of-seven series. The last three series have gone to, well, me.

Not that I’d remember something that happened a year ago:

Speaking of remembering, if you’ll recall last Friday I mentioned a flower that’s flowering in the backyard. It has now reached its potential and it’s lovely:

One day I might too!


20
May 19

Spend a day on the bottom of a pool, get philosophical

I began SCUBA diving as a teen. It was *goes into my wallet to dig out my C-card … * a lot of years ago. Since then, I’ve explored ship wrecks. I’ve swam with turtles and manatees and barracuda. I’ve swam with dolphins in the wild. I’ve caught reef sharks with my bare hands. I’ve been all over the Gulf and the Caribbean and in parts of the Atlantic. I’ve dived ponds and rock quarries.

Saturday the guy that runs the local dive shop let The Yankee and I jump into a high school pool with some of his tanks after his morning class wrapped up. I’ve never dived nothing, though I’ve always wanted to. Just me and a tank and sit on the bottom. There was nothing to see, no place to go. It was great, peaceful, fun. Of course I’d do it again.

Speaking of wildlife, this morning I discovered we’ve got a new colleague at the office:

If you work in a big building, as I do, make sure you rotate through the many doors for entrances and exits. That’s both metaphor and practical advice. Sure, perspectives and all that. If you do, though, you’ll see new things, like that guy, all the time.