About Cindy

Married, Female, Empty Nester Love to garden, cook, read.

A bucket list

Posted on June 22, 2009 by Cindy

Have you seen the movie “The Bucket List”? Edward Cole (Jack Nicholson), the billionaire, and Carter Chambers (Morgan Freeman), a smart scholarly mechanic, meet in a cancer ward and decide to compose a bucket list – things to do before they kick the bucket. They go off on their bucket list adventure jumping from planes, racing cars, gazing at pyramids, etc.

I watched the movie last year on DVD with my sisters during our sister vacation in Colorado. I don’t think any of us actually sat down and composed a list afterward, but we talked about it being a cool idea. We agreed that our whitewater rafting adventure was something we could cross off our imaginary lists. They (not me) also got their tattoos (not on my list), which was something they had talked about doing for several years, so they could cross that off their lists, too. Instead, I jumped off a bridge into the Poudre River and crossed that off my imaginary list!

Sometimes I think about composing my real bucket list. I wonder what I would put on it.

Here is what I’ve got so far:

I’d like to write a book AND have it published AND have it be number one on the NYT bestseller list.
I’d like to tour all seven continents. I’d like to spend a year in each one (other than Antarctica – several weeks would probably do it there).
Barring being able to do item listed above, I’d like to go to the UK and tour the countryside, see Stonehenge and kiss the Blarney Stone (after I wiped it off with sanitizer, of course).
I’d like to see Australia and New Zealand and scuba dive in the Great Barrier Reef (without any fear of sharks).
I’d like to go to Greece or anywhere in the Mediterranean and drink Ouzo with the locals.
Closer to home, I’d like to go to Vancouver, British Columbia, New Orleans and Boston.
I’d like to swim with dolphins or whale sharks (gentle giants).
I’d like to start my own business doing something so enjoyable I don’t think of it as work.
I’d like to break the world record for longest roller skating.
I’d like to get a hole in one.
I’d like to learn Gaelic.
I’d like to take a ride in a hot air balloon.
I’d like to learn to ballroom dance.
I’d like to ride the Rollo Coaster at Idlewild Park with my sisters.

What I am discovering in creating a written list is that it is hard. There is a part of my brain that is telling me that if I put it to paper, I better get it all down or risk losing my chance of ever doing it. Which is silly, of course, because in reality our bucket lists are in our hearts, not written down and we check things off as we go through life.

So, dear people, what’s on your bucket lists that you haven’t already crossed off?

A tribute to fathers

Posted on June 19, 2009 by Cindy

“When I was a boy of fourteen, my father was so ignorant I could hardly stand to have the old man around. But when I got to be twenty-one, I was astonished at how much he had learned in seven years.” – Mark Twain

I was going through my documents on the computer recently and found a collection of Father’s Day stories, poems and quotes. I must have been saving them for a newspaper article, but I don’t think I ever wrote it. I think it very appropriate with Father’s Day on Sunday to make a blog post out of it.

How it began:

Did you know that we have Sonora Dodd, of Washington, to credit for Father’s Day? She thought of the idea for Father’s Day while listening to a Mother’s Day sermon in 1909.

Sonora wanted a special day to honor her father, William Smart. Smart, who was a Civil War veteran and was widowed when his wife died while giving birth to their sixth child. Mr. Smart was left to raise the newborn and his other five children by himself on a rural farm in eastern Washington state.

After Sonora became an adult she realized the selflessness her father had shown in raising his children as a single parent. It was her father that made all the parental sacrifices and was, in the eyes of his daughter, a courageous, selfless, and loving man. Sonora’s father was born in June, so she chose to hold the first Father’s Day celebration in Spokane, Washington on the 19th of June, 1910.

President Calvin Coolidge, in 1924, supported the idea of a national Father’s Day. Then in 1966 President Lyndon Johnson signed a presidential proclamation declaring the 3rd Sunday of June as Father’s Day. President Richard Nixon signed the law which finally made it permanent in 1972.

Here’s one by the late, great Erma Bombeck:

When God Created Fathers

When the good Lord was creating fathers, He started with a tall frame. And a female angel nearby said, “What kind of father is that? If you’re going to make children so close to the ground, why have you put fathers up so high? He won’t be able to shoot marbles without kneeling, tuck a child in bed without bending, or even kiss a child without a lot of stooping.”

And God smiled and said, “Yes, but if I make him child size, who would children have to look up to?”

And when God made a father’s hands, they were large and sinewy.

And the angel shook her head sadly and said, “Do You know what You’re doing? Large hands are clumsy. They can’t manage diaper pins, small buttons, rubber bands on pony tails or even remove splinters caused by baseball bats.”

God smiled and said, “I know, but they’re large enough to hold everything a small boy empties from his pockets at the end of a day…yet small enough to cup a child’s face.”

Then God molded long, slim legs and broad shoulders.

The angel nearly had a heart attack. “Boy, this is the end of the week, all right,” she clucked. “Do You realize You just made a father without a lap? How is he going to pull a child close to him without the kid falling between his legs?”

God smiled and said, “A mother needs a lap. A father needs strong shoulders to pull a sled, balance a boy on a bicycle or hold a sleepy head on the way home from the circus.”

God was in the middle of creating two of the largest feet anyone had ever seen when the angel could contain herself no longer. “That’s not fair. Do You honestly think those large boats are going to dig out of bed early in the morning when the baby cries? Or walk through a small birthday party without crushing at least three of the guests?”

And God smiled and said, “They’ll work. You’ll see. They’ll support a small child who wants to “ride a horse to Banbury Cross” or scare off mice at the summer cabin, or display shoes that will be a challenge to fill.”

God worked throughout the night, giving the father few words, but a firm authoritative voice; eyes that see everything, but remain calm and tolerant.

Finally, almost as an afterthought, He added tears. Then He turned to the angel and said, “Now are you satisfied that he can love as much as a mother?”

And the angel shutteth up!

And a poem by Helen Steiner Rice:

Fathers are Wonderful People

Fathers are wonderful people
Too little understood,
And we do not sing their praises
As often as we should…

For, somehow, Father seems to be
The man who pays the bills,
While Mother binds up little hurts
And nurses all our ills…

And Father struggles daily
To live up to “HIS IMAGE”
As protector and provider
And “hero or the scrimmage”…

And perhaps that is the reason
We sometimes get the notion,
That Fathers are not subject
To the thing we call emotion,

But if you look inside Dad’s heart,
Where no one else can see
You’ll find he’s sentimental
And as “soft” as he can be…

But he’s so busy every day
In the grueling race of life,
He leaves the sentimental stuff
To his partner and his wife…

But Fathers are just WONDERFUL
In a million different ways,
And they merit loving compliments
And accolade of praise,

For the only reason Dad aspires
To fortune and success
Is to make the family proud of him
And to bring them happiness…

And like OUR HEAVENLY FATHER,
He’s a guardian and a guide,
Someone that we can count on
To be ALWAYS ON OUR SIDE.

And, finally, because this is my blog, I’d like to put my message to my dad out in cyberspace. You never know, it may help him hear it!

“Happy Father’s Day, Dad! I miss you and think of you everyday! When I see you again, and after we are through with all our greetings, please make me some of your homemade peanut butter fudge. It’s the best in the world!”

Shrimping off the coast of South Carolina

Posted on June 13, 2009 by Cindy

Our friend, Rusty, is moving away in a few weeks. He called the other day and asked if we could get together for one last “drunk” before he goes. Sounds like a good plan!

We first met Rusty after we moved to Folly Beach. We met him at the Holiday Inn bar during happy hour one afternoon after he had just gotten back from shrimping. We had often seen his shrimp boat, the Miss Ella, docked at Crosby’s with several other commercial shrimping trawlers. My brother was already friends with Rusty, and, as a matter of fact, Dennis had turned Rusty down several times on joining him on a shrimping expedition to be his mechanic.

Well, Brian and I were hooked from the beginning and knew we would sign on to be his crew for at least one outing during shrimping season.

We ended up going out twice. The first time lasted only a day and half. We came back, not because our hull was filled with shrimp that quickly, but because we were pulling no shrimp up in the net and Captain Rusty made the decision to stop wasting fuel for nothing.

Our second trip lasted four and a half days. I consider this one of my truly ultimate experiences in life. I’ll let my journal entries tell my story:

August 26 (Trip 1)

My brother took this picture from the dock.

Brian, Captain Rusty, Craig, and I finally left Crosby‘s dock today at high tide (5:25 p.m.) We ran aground once near the tip of Folly Island. One of the channel markers must be wrong! Getting out to open sea from here is very difficult. It took three hours to get through all the channel markers and get anchored off of Keowah Island for the night. I cooked chicken thighs and fried potatoes on the gas stove. I’m getting my sea legs, I think, but it’s wise to always hang on to something, though. It’s hard to read at night, the lighting is dim, everything runs off the generator. Slept very good.

August 27

It is morning and we are getting ready for our first drag. Once the outriggers are down and the net is dropped, we will drag for three hours. The goal when we pull the net up and dump its contents on the deck is to have a ton of shrimp. After the net is emptied, it is dropped in the water and the next drag is begun while the crew sorts the catch, separates the shrimp from the by-catch and pushes the by-catch back into the water. Shrimp are sorted by size, headed and put down into the hull on ice. Hopefully, the crew completes this process in three hours, so there is room on the deck to dump the next net full. And on and on it goes.

It is difficult to hold the pen steady to write this journal at times with all the bobbing and swaying going on. We dropped the net at 9:15 a.m. We are hoping to be very busy heading shrimp soon. I’m watching spinner dolphins off the stern. They are beautiful and love to play around the boat.

I drove the boat a little. Scary! Miss Ella didn’t seem to want to go where I wanted her to go. The guys were all out on deck raising the anchor. The anchor is huge with hundreds of feet of thick bull rope that can hurt you in a second. I was to keep the Miss Ella straight and try not to let her rock too much, while the guys did their dangerous work. Ten minutes of ultimate stress!

Even cooking is an adventure out here. You have to take a wide stance and sort of roll with the swells to keep your balance. The stove burners also have lips around them to help keep a hot pot from falling off. Since the Miss Ella has no refrigeration, our perishables are packed in coolers. Each day, we have to empty any melting water and refill them with ice from the hull. The cooking is a great way for me to be able to contribute more, since the guys don’t want me to be near the outriggers, anchor, or other dangerous pieces of equipment.

Rusty needed a few shackles, so I looked in the bottom of the tool box (a whopping huge wardrobe looking thing that I had to empty of tons of big dirty tools to even see the bottom). I found a few shackles at the bottom, got very dirty, but hey, good contribution on my part!

We’ll be pulling up the net soon to see our first catch.

We pulled up a lot of fish on that first drag, but only six shrimp! What? That’s not even enough to make a decent shrimp cocktail! We pulled up whiting, mackerel, flounder, star fish, sand dollars, beautiful little tropical fish, a few squid and lots of jelly balls (jelly fish). We decide to keep enough of the flounder, whiting and squid to fry up a sampler plate for our dinner.

Captain Rusty decided to find another spot to try our shrimping. We headed north towards Charleston Harbor.

After another drag, no shrimp. So, we go in search of another place to try our luck.

The shrimper captains get on their CB radios and talk to each other a lot. They don’t say much. There are long pauses in their conversations. They speculate on the shrimp, but mostly tell each other tons of lies! After all, a shrimper having great success does not want the other shrimpers infringing on his territory! Almost every conversation ends with the mantra, “It will be better next time.” In Captain Rusty’s case today, he is not lying. But, they don’t know that!

We anchored at sea for the night and had a fabulous dinner! After dinner, Rusty popped a VHS tape into the little 13 inch screen VHS player. We watched A Perfect Storm. (No kidding)

The stars are beautiful at night. I’ve never seen so many stars. Mars is closer than ever. It’s beautiful, too. I think I will sleep on this huge mass of spooled up rope on the bow.

August 28

We’re waiting for low tide to put the nets out. I’ve been reading a book. Glorious day! We had scrambled eggs for breakfast.

Since we get about eight miles to a gallon of diesel and we aren’t making any money, Captain Rusty makes the decision to cut this outing short and head back to the dock. I am very disappointed.

September 10 (Trip 2)

Full moon tonight. We haven’t left the dock yet. I filled up the coolers with ice and took a Dramamine for motion sickness. The engine is warming up. We have no water. Not because the tank isn’t filled, but because the pump might not be working.

Oh, oh. Just found out something is wrong with the steering. This could be bad. Very bad. So, it has been decided that we can’t go this evening. Good thing. If the steering went while we were trying to cross the bar between Folly and Kiawah Islands, who knows what could have happened?

To fix the steering, we need the welder and an unknown number of man hours labor. So, the guys dismantled the steering mechanism, so Captain Rusty can take it to Jimmy, the welder, in the morning.

While waiting for the next part of this adventure to get underway, we watched the Hailey Marie come back to the dock. She’s Captain Neal’s boat. As if floating across a sea of grass, she came through the channel, slowly making her way to the dock. How breathtaking! The wives of the men on that crew stood on the dock and waved at their returning wayfarers. The crew on the Hailey Marie were gone longer than usual. They had to hole-up at sea for a few days because of Tropical Storm Henri. But, she’s back now.

High and low tides are more extreme than usual because of the full moon.

Captain Rusty has taken to calling me Buttercup. I think he’s trying to make me mad as I’m sure it’s in reference to me being a girl and hating to get my hands dirty. I like him calling me that, though. Somehow being given a nickname makes me one of the crew.

I volunteered to re-plumb the sink. It is always leaking. Tomorrow may be a good day to work on it since we have no running water anyway.

Sleeping on the boat at the dock tonight.

September 11

Waiting for Captain Rusty to return from the welder. I think I’ll read in my book awhile.

At the last minute, Craig decided not to go with us. It will just be the three of us this trip. It means more work for us rookies, but also a bigger payday!

(Well, dear readers, we did have much more success on our second outing and stayed so busy, I did not write in my journal again until after we returned)

September 17 (The day after our return and my final entry)

I think we can say I’m not a whiner. I just got back from four and a half days at sea on the Miss Ella. Wow! Life on the Miss Ella is surreal, unbelievable. Her cabin and galley make me shake my head in disbelief. Honestly, if she were a woman and not a boat, she’d be a filthy whore, but you are in love with her anyway. Her stove is rusted and you can’t use the oven and if you use the wrong burner, you’ll start a fire. You may start one anyway as all her jets are choked with soot. Her cabin and galley are a patchwork of plywood and torn pieces of fiber board. Grease, soot and diesel fuel cover everything. Cockroaches and mice abound. (Yes, they do make the trip out to sea with you and crawl on you at night while you are sleeping!) The smell of diesel fuel burns your nostrils. Peeing and pooping in a bucket on choppy seas is difficult on a good day. Perishable foods begin to look a bit wilty on the third and fourth day. Your back is aching from sitting in a squat for hours on end heading shrimp. Your hands hurt from this exercise.

But, sunrises and sunsets are beautiful at sea. The quiet is astounding out there. The constant rocking of the boat is comforting. The stars are more bright, more beautiful, more plentiful. There is nothing quite like it.

We got 6 boxes of shrimp (six hundred pounds)! That was a lot of heading!

After we unloaded and changed our clothes, we went to the Holiday Inn bar for Happy Hour. The idea is to get drunk so you can get your equilibrium back! Actually, it does take several days to get over the swaying feeling going on in your head! (End of journal entries)

I think Rusty went out two or three more times that season, but we couldn’t go. We had our regular lives, regular jobs back on the mainland.

By the next shrimping season, Rusty had gotten a regular job, so he could eat and pay his bills. And he found a buyer for the Miss Ella. For him, the shrimping life was over.

He’s not alone, though. Many local shrimpers cannot make a living at it anymore. It is a dying industry. Now, most of the shrimp you see in grocery stores or order at your favorite restaurants is imported from Asia or some other place, raised on shrimp farms, using chemicals to stimulate growth and color. Big business it is. Add the cost of diesel fuel and dock fees and boat maintenance, most shrimpers cannot compete.

Rusty is a good friend. Because of him, I had what is surely one of my greatest life adventures! I’ll miss him.

P.S. By the way, if you ever see a sign at your local fishmonger or on a restaurant menu advertising “wild” shrimp, you’re buying the best!