Friday, March 17, 2023

Mrs. Harris Goes to Paris Review (2022)




Every once in a great while a movie comes along that finds its greatness within the period in which it is based. We are reminded of a simpler time, where morals were more universally celebrated, fashion was iconic for its tribute to grace and beauty, and where a protagonist is purely that, so much so that it is through their positivity for life, that positive change is given room to grow.   Mrs. Harris Goes to Paris is such a story, delightful, wistful, and as graceful as a 1950's Christian Dior evening dress.

Mrs. Harris Goes to Paris is based on a novella written by Paul Gallico and directed by award-winning film Director Anthony Fabian, who also shares writing and producing credits for this film.  The movie stars Leslie Manville as an English cleaning lady who saves and gambles to obtain enough money to travel to Paris to purchase a Christian Dior dress, a lifelong dream of hers.

Arriving at Christian Dior, a Haute Couture shop that caters only to wealthy, Hollywood stars, and royalty,  Mrs. Harris (Leslie Manville) finds herself on the outside looking in.  Her indominable spirit in the face of rejection endears her to royalty  (Marquis de Chassagne played by Lambert Wilson), a Dior model (Natasha by Alba Baptista), and a Dior Accountant  (AndrĂ© Fauvel by Lucas Bravo), while also making enemies, especially of the President of the Dior company (Claudine Colbert by Isabelle Hupert) who repeatedly tries to find new ways to remove Mrs. Harris from the shop.  

The story is sweet, the Dior collection used in the movie was simply divine, each outfit modeled in the Dior salesroom was breathtaking, as was our peek into the cutting and sewing rooms, not often seen in real life but beautifully portrayed in the movie.

While the underlying theme may be that while class divisions do exist, the upper-class should be open to the dreams and desires of the class of workers directly below them, that there is a wealth of knowledge to be shared between all classes. Mrs. Harris teaches us that our dreams do not have to be any grander than a Christian Dior dress to make dreams come true to the people we touch along the way, no matter their status in life.

Leslie Manville's flawless performance as Ada Harris is the foundation that every other actor has to stand upon, she is the movie's strength, as she carries the story to its predictable yet quite lovely ending.  By the time we reach the movie's conclusion, she and her new friends at Christian Dior learn that generosity is a gift that one should not be recklessly given to people who don't respect you- that self-respect and respect you earn are a shared character trait.

This is an excellent film, well-directed, brilliantly acted, and beautifully costumed with a sweet story that will touch your heart as it did mine.

Monday, February 6, 2023

The Final Weight Loss Challenge

 On November 25th I weighed  the heaviest of my life at 384 pounds.  There is no excuse for being that much overweight.   My last official weight, registered at my Doctor's office on November 18th was 377 pounds. The medical term for my weight is "morbidly obese". It was time for my Final Weight Loss Challenge.   

I will only do this one time and get it right because just like many of you, I've tried the diets, the running, the gym membership that I end up not using,  the fasting, the prayers, the untold number of books, articles, and that doesn't include all the stories I tagged on Flipboard to read later.  I've posted on Facebook, even joined a Facebook fitness group that later asked me to leave because I didn't do the work.  I've failed at losing weight more times than I can remember.  


When I signed up for weight loss surgery I was told I had to lose 60 pounds before they would consider surgery. I had to prove desire.  I failed at that too.  I can not begin to count how many times on a Friday I vowed to start my diet on Monday.  I vowed to exercise starting on Monday.  Does this sound familiar?  If so, I feel your pain.  

At a funeral on Long Island last February I ran into a relative of my brother in law, through marriage.  The man was slightly overweight all the previous times we had shared a dinner with family over the holidays.   At the funeral, not having seen him in over 3 years, he was in excellent shape.  I asked him what was his secret and he replied "22 days.  It takes 22 days to change a lifestyle."  I took it to heart.  It was time to get serious, log in my 22 days, and change my lifestyle.  

For this final challenge I decided that I would not follow a particular diet but rather rely on four important words:  common sense and self control.  Months earlier I learned a valuable lesson about myself that I would apply to the final challenge.  We rented a house on  Moosehead Lake for a weekend.  Once there and relaxed, I wasn't hungry.  I didn't want snacks, candy, junk food, and I couldn't finish my portions at lunch and dinner. I wasn't sick. I was relaxed.   I'm a stress eater.  That's what I learned.  

Although I gained weight before I became a Town Manager, it accelerated in that position.  As we approached a major life change, moving to California,  retiring from public service,  and buying a new home, I decided this was the perfect opportunity to begin the final challenge.   We moved thanksgiving week, I bought a bicycle and began riding daily.



By the end of December I was up to 4.5 to 5 miles per day and I was dropping weight.  Then on Monday, January 9th I fell of my bike when I hit a curb and fractured my leg.  It was a serious break that required surgery.  I could have thrown up my arms and given up.  But I am retired, and I am not stress eating any more.  Three meals a day is all I need and I am following my mantra of common sense and self control.  My snacks are fruit, melon, pineapple, sugar free jello cups, and peaches.

Even though I am laid up, my lifestyle has not changed. When I left the hospital I weighed 365 pounds. Every Monday I weigh in. Today, Monday, February 6th, I weighed in at 346.8 pounds. 

My journey continues for a healthier body and mind.

I will report on my progress as it continues.

Rick


Sunday, February 5, 2023

Mutant Mouse Chronicles: The California Experience

 We have moved to California. Not a big city like Los Angeles, or a shi shi moo Palm Springs.   We moved to lovely city in the Upper Mohave Desert, Ridgecrest- home of China Lake Naval Air Warfare Base.  

Every weekday and some weeknights we can hear the jets roaring overhead as they practice dogfights, missile launches, and whatever top secret testing we are not on the need to know list to report to you.

What they say here is that roar of jet engines overhead is the sound of freedom,  We  moved from Bangor Maine to Ridgecrest over Thanksgiving holiday.  We bought a gorgeous home on a quiet cul-de-sac and our yard is a walled in fortress.  Last night the temperature in Bangor Maine was -39 degrees.   In Ridgecrest our low was 48 and our high was 65 degrees and sunny.  

Now that we are settled in, my plan with this blog is to re-purpose it to become a daily personal journal to share with the reader.

Were going to have shorter articles,  less opinion and more personal observation about life.   I will keep political comments and religious issues on the back burner.   Looking forward to the next phase of The Mutant Mouse Chronicles.  


Saturday, December 31, 2022

Diffle County Report: A PFAS Educational Lunch

 Township Supervisor “Big Don” was sitting in his usual spot, the Chairman seat at the center of the meeting table in the former fire hall, now the Grinold Town office- he was facing the front window and door.  A white Jeep Cherokee pulled into the small parking lot in front of the building and stopped.  There was a seal on the side of the car door that said in the round Circle Commonwealth of Pennsylvania Pennsylvania Department of Environmental Protection. In the center of the seal was  a modern illustration of a river flowing between two mountains.

“Uh no, the Woke nation has arrived.” Big Don  grinned as he spoke after four, somewhat unkempt-looking recent college graduates walked through the door.

“Hi, we’re from the DEP,” said the lead person as they walked single file to Dave’s favorite spot and stood in a single line opposite from Big Don at the meeting table.

“Well, I am glad that’s settled”, Big Don replied, “Otherwise you’d have to explain why you’re driving a vehicle with a DEP seal on the door.” He laughed. The DEP reps were so quiet you could hear the chickens  laying eggs in the coop on the property next door.

“What can I do for you fine gentlemen and ladies this afternoon?”, Don asked as he folded up the newspaper he had been reading, the headline clearly visible on the front page.  PFAS Contaminates All-Natural Farm”

“My name is Dr. Linda Prior and I am a Chemical Analyst with DEP.  You have an old town dump nearby? We want to test the monitoring wells for PFAS.”  Linda did not smile.

Big Don leaned back in his chair and pulled open the third drawer from the top of the filing cabinet behind him, reached in and retrieved a brown file folder. He dropped it onto the table in front of DEP’s Dr. Linda Prior.

“We closed that dump 45 years ago. My father was the elected Supervisor at the time. He obtained a closure permit from DEP and that dump was sealed as per your Department’s permit.  We received a clean bill of health”  Big Don frowned as he spoke, “My name is Don Rider and I am the Secretary/Treasurer of this township. You can call me Big Don if you’d like.” Then he smiled a good ol’ boy grin, “that’s what my friends call me.”

A few more chicken eggs were laid.

“We are investigating for the presence of PFAS in your town dump”, she paused a moment then smiled back,  “That is very impressive that you have readily available, information on your dump from 45 years ago. Did you know we were coming?”

“We’ve kept it handy for the past 45 years. My Daddy said you’d be back.” Big Don grinned broadly at the DEP quartet. “What is this PFAS you’re looking for?”

“Looks like you just read about it in the newspaper,”  Linda calmly replied.  She pointed to the headline still visible on the folded newspaper.

“Doctor Prior, if you knew me you’d already know I only read the Obituaries and Comics of this particular newspaper,” said Big Don. “Now why don’t you, a chemical analyst working with our DEP, explain to me,  what PFAS is, please.”

Dr. Linda Prior took in a deep breath and began, saying,

“Per- and polyfluoroalkyl substances are synthetic organofluorine chemical compounds that have multiple fluorine atoms attached to an alkyl chain. As such, they contain at least one perfluoroalkyl moiety...”

Big Don interrupted, “In Layman’s terms, please.” 

Dr. Prior smiled, her eyes twinkling with subtle delight, 

“They are chemicals that are used in the manufacture of every day products, from frying pans and waterproof jackets to foam used by firefighters. They do not degrade due to their chemical bond and there is a growing concern among scientists like myself, that they may have a harmful effect on the human body, on wild and domestic animals, and of course the environment.”

Big Don listened intently.  “Teflon” he replied. 

Dr. Prior, who recently received her PHD from Maine State University, nodded affirmatively, and with a nod of her head, tossed her short, cropped strawberry-blonde hair to the side, then offered her freckled hand, which Big Don shook respectively. 

“I am Dr. Linda Prior.  I am working with Pennsylvania DEP as part of a major study at Maine State, where I teach graduate studies in Chemical Engineering.”    She smiled,  “with me is John Stuart of DEP, Bryce Roberts of DEP, and Adam Wheeler, a  graduate student from Maine State whose thesis is the study of PFAS.”

Everyone shook hands with Big Don and after introductions were concluded John Stuart pulled a set of maps from a tube he was holding and opened them across the table. Big Don, John, and Dr. Prior leaned over a map of the old Town dump.

John Stuart pointed to three locations on the map.

“We will test the monitoring wells here, here, and here.”

It was at this point that Supervisor Larry Gates walked in from the side door to the town garage. He was taller than Big Don, balding with a dark brown comb over, clean shaven, his nose crooked from a bar fight too long ago to matter, and his teeth crooked from the pipe he kept firmly in place, except to speak and he had something to say that morning.

“I see we are having a PFAS party right here in the ‘Ol Grin.  I was listening on the other side of that door, “ said Larry, pointing back at the door he had just walked through, “I actually read that article, read a few more articles on-line, called a Professor friend and we had a nice chat. So if you all don’t mind, I have a few questions for Doctor Prior and our good DEP friends.”

Doctor Prior replied in her best professional voice,  “I will do my best to answer your questions.” 

“So will I.” replied John Stuart. 

 Larry Gates tapped his cherry pipe in his left hand.

“Just a few questions. What studies have been completed that confirmed PFAS is harmful to humans at the levels you are testing?”

Dr. Prior looked directly into Supervisor Gate’s eyes,  “Scientists are still studying the health effects of PFAS on humans and in the environment.”

Larry continued tapping his pipe into his hand.

“ Are there any studies that have conclusively proven there is a health hazard? He sat down next to Big Don at the table.

Dr. Prior pulled up a chair across from Supervisor Gates and replied, “Preliminary studies suggest negative impacts on the nervous system, and other parts of the body.  They can be found in soil, water , and air.”

Larry Gates frowned slightly, “You didn’t answer my question, but I will answer it for you by quoting a verified source.”  

Larry pulled his phone out of his pocket and began typing. A few minutes passed. Big Don asked if they wanted to stay for lunch, it was hot dog Thursday and there was plenty to go around.  The DEP group politely declined.  

“Ah here it is, the website for the National Institute of Health, you know who I mean, the N.I.H.” Larry paused and then began reading from the website,

“Quote, more research is needed to fully understand all sources of exposure, and if and how they cause health problems, unquote.”   

“Yes, that’s true” replied Dr. Prior.

Larry glanced at the map, then raised his eyes to look at John Stuart.  “John, my name is Larry and I am an elected Supervisor.  What is EPA’s regulatory standard for PFAS in groundwater?”

Big Don began to grin.

John ran his fingers back through his curly hair and smiled,  “There is no EPA regulatory standard for PFAS. There may soon be regulatory standards for two of these forever chemicals , PFOA and PFOS”  said DEP’s John Stuart.

Larry replied without hesitation, “Is it true John that PFAS is a catch-all for thousands of chemicals of differing levels and toxicities and that the complicated nature of PFAS and its widespread presence in our environment makes it very difficult to evaluate?”

John looked at his shoes and replied, “yes, that’s true.”

Big Don excused himself to get the crockpot of hotdogs, sauerkraut, and a bag of rolls.  

Larry pulled out a pouch and began filling his pipe.

“I have a question about testing. When you test our well for total coliform. you teste in parts per million, correct?”

A town truck pulled into the front parking lot, followed by a Blake Township Ford 350 4-wheel drive pick up truck.  Five men and a woman, all dressed in work blues got out of the two vehicles, walked in,  surveyed the situation, then quickly exited through the side door into the town garage.

John Stuart replied, "Yes, the standard is 0 coliform per 100 ml. or parts per million.”

Larry nodded affirmatively.  “So if I were to purchase  nine hundred and ninety nine thousand pieces of white confetti paper of identical size and one piece of black confetti paper of identical size and filled this room with all of them could the black confetti piece would represent a failed coliform drinking water test?” 

John paused. A SAAB pulled into the parking lot, then a Lincoln and in walked the town attorney and Judge Walthers.  After a short wave, both walked into the garage. The conversations in the garage were beginning to increase in intensity and volume.

“Technically, that is a basic description, but yes.”  John Stuart replied.

More trucks and cars parked in the front lot, parking behind each other and blocking the two garage doors at the front of the building.  Big Don opened one of the two garage doors and waved people directly  into the garage.

Dr. Linda Prior stood up and leaned over the desk, directly across from Larry and said,

“ I know where this is going so please allow me to save you the time with an  explanation on the controversy, but first I have to ask, is there some sort of meeting here today?”,  Linda asked, raising her voice to compete with the loud laughter coming from the garage.

At that moment the side door to the garage opened and in walked ten men from four different fire companies. Each Man had a hot dog and bun in one hand and a  diet coke in the other hand.

Larry smiled.  “There is no meeting. It’s hot dog Thursday.  Kind of popular around here.  We usually serve lunch in the meeting room, but we are making some accommodation for your unannounced visit. However, you are welcome to join us if you like.  Food is on a card table in the garage, soda pop in the cooler on the floor.”

At that moment the side door burst open and Grinold Township Road worker Billy “the kid” Johnstone walked in carrying a crockpot stuffed with hot dogs and sauerkraut. He was followed by Judge Walthers carrying the hot dog buns, paper plates, napkins and two open bags of potato chips.

“Help yourselves to lunch,” said the kid.

The room filled up with the lunch crowd and who took seats and began to eat their lunch while watching the entertainment.

Larry smiled at Dr. Linda Prior and John Stuart.  “Looks like lunch has found you anyway.”  

Before long, everyone except Larry and Dr. Prior were enjoying their hot dog lunch.  Larry continued with his questions,

“Please Dr. Prior, don’t assume what my next question  will be. In the spirit of cooperation allow me to re-phrase my questions.”  Dr. Prior nodded in agreement.

“ Were you able to find these chemicals testing in parts per million?”

“No.” she replied.

“Parts per billion?”  Larry frowned.

She shook her head back and forth and stated, "No."

“Parts per trillion?” he asked.

“Yes.”  she replied,  “But let me explain how..

Larry interrupted her,  “Do you test any other substances in parts per trillion?  

“No, but there are over 2,000 chemicals that fall under the PFAS umbrella.” Dr. Rider leaned in closer, “you obviously know enough about PFAS to know that we have to move quickly to stop people from getting exposed.”

Larry leaned forward until they were both almost nose to nose,  “From what I understand 75% of us already are infected in parts per trillion.  Now I also understand Maine has set a regulatory standard, is that right?

Dr. Prior smiled, walked over to the crockpot and pulled out the last hotdog,  “Yes, at 70 Parts per trillion.”

Larry nodded, looked down at the table. The room was quiet, not a soul dared speak, just the crunching sound of potato chips being eaten, and sodas being sipped.

“ Is that consistent with EPA regulatory requirements, oh wait forgive me, their recommended guidelines?  There is a difference, of course.” Larry and Big Don both chuckled and there were a few giggles from the audience.

“NO, it’s not. It’s more stringent but we feel it is necessary and proper to set a standard that best protects our citizens.”  Dr. Rider bit into the most delicious hot dog she had ever tasted.  “These are amazing”.  

Big Don nodded in response and said, “They’re homemade. I think if you ask the kid, we are eating what was left of Bessie the cow and Fluffy the pig.”

The kid then jumped in, “and some venison for flavoring.”

Dr. Prior gently paced the remains of her hot dog on her plate. Her four colleagues did the same.

Big Don smiled at the room,  “Well, those dogs were locally sourced, from the farm animals to the grain we fed them, and I’m betting there may be a few parts per trillion of that PFAS in them- that you are looking for."  The crowd tried to hold back their chuckles and giggles but a few slipped through.

Don looked over at Larry, then at Judge Walthers, “Your Honor, I hope we haven’t compromised your judicial impartiality should a PFAS lawsuit end up on your docket.”

Judge Walthers raised his 6 foot frame out of the folding chair, pushed back his silver hair, and began to walk to the door, waving back as he went, “Not a chance of that, Don. And I will see you same time next Thursday. Thanks for lunch.” 

Larry stood up, deep in thought, he looked down at the table, over that the half-eaten hot dog, then up at Dr. Prior as he began to speak slowly at first, and then faster, in a clear, unmistakable tone of  person who has had enough.

“Doctor, these folks have their own townships and jobs to get to, and I have a meeting with our township attorney who I can see is just now finishing his lunch.

You are welcome to test our monitoring wells, but if I read even one article about one of our farmers giving up their crops because they legally applied sludge on their farmland under a DEP permit for the past 20-years under State regulations for goodness sake, and you find PFAS on their farms, or you find PFAS in our monitoring wells and attempt to reopen the closure permit DEP issued and final approved 40 years ago, I promise you I will personally lead the charge statewide to fight any and all regulations you attempt to pass.  I sit on the Pennsylvania Regulatory Advisory Board and no regulation gets approved without our approval.”

Dr. Prior nodded her head and said,  “Well, sir, I’m glad you don’t live in Maine.”  She motioned to the DEP representatives that it was time to go.  “Thank you all for your assistance.  Have a great day”

Big Don walked the group to the door.  “Time to go.  Keep in touch.  Don't let the door hit ya where the good Lord split ya!”

As the DEP contingent started up their engines, Larry stood up, scratched a mosquito bite on his left arm while grinning at Big Don.

“These damn tree-huggers never quit. They’ll test in parts per quadrillion if they can have something new they can regulate and ruin good people’s lives. And you can bet those new regulations will have a loophole for the corporate farms but not for the local farmers.”

Big Don grabbed cleaned up the lunch fixings and nodded to Larry Gates,  “you mean poorly regulate, don’t you?  But she did seem very serious, Larry. You sure there aren’t any conclusive studies on this?

Larry paused for a moment, “well, there is one.  PFAS has a tendency to stunt the growth in Caucasian males.”

Don laughed.  “Generally speaking, Caucasians are not the tallest of men”

Larry nodded, “Well, they can blame PFAS for that too.”

And with that, the Thursday locally-sourced hot dog lunch at the Grinold Township building was over.

Thursday, December 22, 2022

Our Maine Experience

 




It will be a month today since we packed up the big truck in Bangor, Maine and pointed her nose for the Mojave Desert of California.  The trip from Bangor to Ridgecrest totaled 3,351 miles, took seven days, several hotels, Thanksgiving dinner at a Denny's in New Mexico, a few disagreements, a fender bender, $1500.00 in gasoline, $3,600 in truck rental costs, and a four-day hotel stay at our destination at $200.00 a day while we waited for the sale process to complete and we had keys to our new home.   It wasn't a pleasant experience but from the beginning we treated this move as a mission, not a pleasure drive.  It was a required journey. 

One thing I know for sure- while we miss the people we worked with and the friendships that we forged,  we do not miss everyone we met. Here is another truth, if it wasn't for Maine and Covid-19, and for a flooded walkway to our home last Spring that turned into a major landscaping project, we wouldn't be living in this lovely home we own in California. We are grateful for the bounty for it came from hard work with no thought of reward.

We fell in love with Maine through several vacation trips over ten years. The scenery is astonishing, diverse, and no trip was the same, each visit was an exploration  of another natural area within the State. The seafood was beyond delicious, it was culinary excellence. Some of the people were rather cranky, but we had been there several times and had only had a few unpleasant encounters,   So we moved there with every intention to spend the rest of our lives in Maine. Three years later?  Maine is no longer our home.

I won't linger long on our time in Maine. There won't be a Diffle County or some other fictional piece based upon our Maine experience. We explored, we ate delicious seafood, explored some more, and lived a quiet life in a quiet mobile home community.  We also nearly died from Covid-19, fought the  good fight trying to do our jobs against prejudice, resistance, unnecessary roadblocks, passive-aggressive obstructionists, threats of bodily harm, and even an offer of murder. After three years we both knew that it wasn't the Maine winters that we couldn't handle. As the saying goes, it only takes a few bad apples to spoil the whole barrel.  


To understand Mainers you only need to know this - they would rather vacation in their own State than anywhere else.  Maine is not your vacationland, it's their vacationland.  Mainers know tourism is important for their State and it is the perfect place for tourism to thrive,  but then when the tourist season is over they would like you to leave, thank you very much. They have sheds on sleds at their camps and as soon as the lakes freeze, those sheds slide out onto the ice. Let the ice fishing commence.  That's not all.

When the snow flies they are on the trails with their snowmobiles and ATV's,  enjoying the land their Great Grand Daddies fought to keep against the weather, the bears, the wolves, the bobcats, the weasels and fishers, the chiggers and ticks,  against the British, the Bostonians, and sometimes the French, and against those folks "from away" who did not sacrifice as their families had, and then against the weather again and again and again.  Maine mud is real and if you get stuck chances are the tow truck will get stuck trying to get to you.  Put on your big-boy pants, Maine is not a resort, it is hard living and its inhabitants are rough and ready for anything that gets thrown at them.

Sadly, there are the provincial Mainers who don't want outsiders to tell them how to improve their community, they don't want advice, they're insulted when you provide guidance, and because of that they will tear down anyone "from away"  who actually may want to improve their town.  In the end, the outsiders usually leave and isolationists win- and Maine takes another step backwards in time. Just like my bosses told me when they hired me, "We don't want anything to change."  I wish they understood that's impossible. Change will come, it always does.



But let's stop with the negatives right there. There were so many kind, caring people I met and worked with that I do not want to twist this into something it is not.   I loved every member my staff, my road crew, and almost every firefighter.  (That last sentence was for Char-lin.)  I loved my elected bosses, except the newest one (who lacks a moral compass to rise above her own self-interest.)  She's an exception. I've already developed a fictional character based loosely on her actions-  named La Meer, she will be a very large Maine Coon Cat, and will be featured in a future novel. She will not be the heroine.

 I truly love these good people, of solid Maine stock, who care about their community and serve it so well. They are my friends and I am honored to be their friend also. 

We will miss the Western Mountains, the Lakes Region, the Mid-Coast, the Bold Coast, the Northern Wilderness, the cities of Bangor and Portland, the Central Highlands, and Baxter State Park, We will miss Acadia, Blue Hill, Camden, Rockport, Rockland, Belfast, Brewer, Greenville, Dexter, St. Albans, and Moosehead Lake, possibly the most beautiful lake I have ever seen.

I deeply miss my St. Albans family, in spite of all the harrassment from the unsullied,  I will always love Maine and my Mainer friends have a place forever in my heart.  I'm sure we will be back sometime soon, probably after the spring thaw.  

Even though they can't make a cheesesteak to save their lives, and their pizza is a travesty,  they are some of the finest people I have ever met. 

Rick



  

 








Wednesday, December 14, 2022

Reality Defeats Wanderlust in Final Round

Would You Buy a Dead Cactus?

 Wanderlust started strong, with several right jabs and a good uppercut. Reality was stunned, bloodied, and ineffective with its counter punches.  But Reality prefers the fifteen round fight and has an unbeaten record.  But we fought on, scoring punches with trips to Maine from Pennsylvania, and then actually moving there - nearly a 7th round knock out - and then exploring all the natural sights that Maine has to offer.  We mapped our trips on a large map of Maine that was tacked to our door,  and we even started a website "We Explore Maine" but reality had a great counter punch to that - Covid-19.  Who was going to explore Maine under those conditions?  

Reality, sensing victory,  added more hard blows to the body and then to the head. Our dear Uncle Jim died after a short bout with cancer.  My father passed away. Our niece lost her baby in child birth.  My Great Nephew was murdered in cold blood on a sunny Sunday in the parking lot of a Target Superstore.   My wife's brother died suddenly due to alcohol poisoning, an addiction he couldn't beat.   Then our dog Sonnet became seriously ill and had to be put down.

Wanderlust tried vainly with some clever moves, floating like a monarch butterfly, stinging like a small bee with weekend trips to the coast.  Wanderlust was getting beat, and a knockout was likely.   Dinner at Masons Brewery on the Penobscot River- nothing more than a glancing jab.

Finally,  Maine got in the corner with reality and after a flurry of punches that hit hard, we saw the victory ahead for reality and Wanderlust threw in the towel.  We packed up, retired from boxing, and moved to California to be closer to family.

Wanderlust lost the fight because it needed to lose the fight, and to lose every fight. Reality wins because for all its harshness, it also brings clarity, responsibility, and love into union.  Our health improves, and our view of the world improves as well, because it is based upon the undefeated, the reality of our own lives.




Tuesday, December 13, 2022

The Call of the Sea


Tall Ship Hawaiian Chieftain in Salmon Bay
I have always wanted to live at the ocean. When I was a child, every summertime Wednesday we would pack the station wagon with beach gear and my father and mother would drive us (Robby, Randy, Ricky, and Rusty) to Ship Bottom, New Jersey.  This is where I discovered body-surfing and Yoo Hoo chocolate drink.

When I was in my mid-twenties I worked for a ship reporting service in Philadelphia as a dispatcher and later held a similar job with a tugboat company. As nearly every sailor will tell you, there is something about the sea that draws you in and never releases you.  You are as hooked as a marlin on the end of a fishing line. 
Tall Ship Lady Washington

 




 The magnificent beauty of the Puget Sound is a tonic for a damaged soul, a vibrant combination of sight, sounds, and smells that will stay strong in your memory for many years. I fell in love with the sweet Pacific Ocean breezes that poured in through open windows. 

In the photographs above and the the right,  the steamship paddle boat Queen of Seattle was turning around in Salmon Bay near the Ballard locks.  Suddenly out of the locks appeared two tall ships.  Lady Washington arrived first. She starred  in the first Pirates of Caribbean movie. Following her out of the locks was the tall ship Hawaiian Chieftain.  The Lady Washington actually circled our ship and our Captain jokingly exclaimed  "We're surrounded by pirates!"

From July through October of 2012, I  spent most of my working days on the steamship paddle boat "Queen of Seattle".  Once owned by Alaska Travel Adventures, a company that lost its way with this purchase,  she was built in a Sacramento  backyard by a wealthy Californian obsessed with steam engines.

The Queen of Seattle is a 149 foot long steam-powered paddle boat- the largest such vessel west of the Mississippi River. Her capacity is 243 people.  She was built to reflect an earlier time in history. She is a combination of old and new construction.

She is a lovely ship, built from decommissioned World War 2 Navy ships that were struck from the Navy register and sold for scrap. She may be haunted by the ghost of her builder, or of the men who fought and died on the decks of the ships she was built from....

According to public records, some of the Queen's windows are from the USS Calvert (APA-32),  a Crescent City- Class Attack Transport  whose superior service to the U.S. Navy won her ten battle stars and a Navy Unit Commendation.  In Word War II, the USS Calvert landed troops in North Africa, Sicily, Philippine Islands, Gilbert Islands, Kwajalein, Marianas, Saipan, and the occupation of Japan. She was commissioned again for the Korean war and for a final service in the Vietnam war.  The builder of the Queen was transported home from the Pacific theater on the USS Calvert.

I washed those windows every week and often thought about our passengers looking through at the city of Seattle, not knowing that our soldiers and sailors once looked through those same windows on a journey a very different, and often deadly reality.  I owed it to those soldiers, many who never  returned, to keep that glass clean for the folks who rode the Queen in leisure in the summer of 2012.

Her controls were from the USS Interpreter, a radar picket ship that was part of our early warning defense system and would sail for weeks at a time on the Pacific Ocean.  Originally a private freighter, the USS Interpreter was purchased by the US Navy and outfitted for her mission at the Philadelphia Naval Yard- on the same Delaware River where I dispatched tugboats, including a few times to the navy yard itself.

I stood at the helm several times that summer and piloted the Queen of Seattle using the controls from the USS Interpreter.  "Keep her mid-ship  Mr. Fisher" the Captain would growl in that salty Captain voice after we passed under the Fremont bridge and entered "The Cut", a man-made canal that joins Lake Union to the Puget Sound.
Naval Personnel aboard the USS Calvert

The Queen of Seattle was originally christened the Elizabeth Louise. She was built over a ten-year span between 1975 and 1985 on a vacant scrapyard lot by 63-year old crane operator Hal Wilmunder.

Her paddle engines were built in 1884 and were installed on at least 5 different ships, finally ending up on the tugboat Detroiter, which worked on the Ohio River. The engines were later sold for scrap.  Capt. Wilmunder found them and then built a boat to fit them.  He launched the Elizabeth Louise on the Sacramento River in September of 1985.


USS Interpreter
Hal Wilmunder died tragically after he fell off the stern of the paddle boat and drowned in the Sacramento River on Easter Sunday, April 20, 2003.  That isn't something that was mentioned on the tour narration and probably for good reason.  According to published reports, the ship's door alarm had gone off and Hal went to investigate. At that time Alaska Travel Adventures (ATA) had offered Hal Wilmunder 1-million dollars for the Queen but he refused, his seller price at 3-million.  After his death, his widow sold the ship to ATA...for one million dollars.  They took it to Alaska and renamed it Alaskan Queen.  The venture failed and they moved her to Seattle and renamed her Seattle Queen but didn't bother to change the large AQ they installed between the steam stacks above the wheelhouse.

On the day he disappeared, Hal had placed his a wallet and watch on the upstairs bar of the Queen. Then he took his final swim.  His body was recovered 3 days later, a few miles downriver from the ship.  There were questions about how someone who built and knew every square inch of that ship could fall and hit his head on the paddle wheel. What does the paddle wheel have to do with the door alarm?  After a short investigation his death was ruled accidental.  But he was known to have enemies and there were rumors he may have caught a thief, or his death was arranged- that it was no accident- but if that were true, the  evidence died with Mr. Wilmunder,   Some say his ghost haunts the vessel and many of the mechanical issues that ultimately ended the Queen's daily cruises were of suspicious nature.

For some, questions remain:  Why was Hal Wilmunder on board the Elizabeth Louise on Easter Sunday?  Why do some of us believe his spirit may still be aboard the Queen?  Why did the ship constantly have major mechanical problems?  

We will never have the answers but here is my truth - Hal Wilmunder built a paddle boat masterpiece out of scrap iron from decommissioned naval vessels.  The Elizabeth Louise is a beautiful ship deserving better than the junk tours she barely endured.

I will never forget the  Queen of Seattle. I loved those few short months I rode her, and she will forever hold a special place in my heart.














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