The SS United States was once the pride of the American ocean liners. From her launch in 1952 to retirement in 1969, she was the most beautiful ship to make transatlantic passenger crossings. It was docked in Philadelphia for nearly 30 years while different groups tried to find ways to salvage her.
It’s hard to believe that the ship was purchased by a group that planned to sink her off the coast of Destin, Florida, to be an artificial reef. She is currently docked in Mobile, Alabama, and is being prepared for her final voyage to Florida. In part, there will be a visitors center and a museum display. This certainly seems like a strange and sad ending.
Today, I went to the supermarket looking for sandwich bags, among other things. Since I grew up in an era when my mom wrapped everything in wax paper (I’d have to bring the empty sandwich wrap home), I was reminded of that era when I saw these on sale. I’d like to meet the team that created the slogan “Power Shield Technology.” For goodness’ sake, it’s a sandwich bag.
It seems that Moon Pies are everywhere here in the South. Created in 1917 in Chattanooga, Tennessee, millions have been sold. This image is from their bakery sometime in the 1950s. Although I’ve been in their main store in Chattanooga, I’ve always wondered what their factory looked like. Perhaps they should provide their workers with updated work aprons.
This has to be a first, ever. It’s unclear how this happened; however, a man wearing a large metal necklace entered a treatment room in New York while the machine was operational. He was pulled into the machine and died shortly afterwards. According to the article, an MRI machine has enough magnetic force “to fling a wheelchair across the room.” Who knew?
Believe me, when I am undergoing my subsequent treatment, I’ll think of this again when the technician reminds me to remove my St. Christopher’s medal and chain that I wear every day.
When I was about 14 years old, I entered a contest sponsored by some teen magazine to win a date with Sandra Dee. I didn’t tell my Mom about this since I knew she’d want to come along on my time with Sandra. I planned this all very carefully.It took hours for me to craft the perfect letter of introduction and a bio of my life to date, which is all too brief. Reflecting on the memoir, I was sure that my message (and the killer headshot of myself) would win the day.
I envisioned bags of mail waiting to be opened by Sandra. Since I knew most of the entries weren’t up to the quality of mine, it was only a matter of time before she called me to set up our date. This was certain to happen, and thousands of other 14-year-old boys would be weeping from rejection. Man, I felt great.
I wasn’t sure how Sandra and I would get to the location of our date; however, I was confident that it was a minor detail. Hey, I lived in San Francisco – we could take a Cable Car.Days, weeks, months, and years passed, and I didn’t hear from her. I was sure she was busy making movies, so I didn’t worry too much at the time. Then one day, I read she was marrying Bobby Darin. Say what? How could she do this to me? At that point, I threw in the towel.What fun we could’ve had, Sandra. Your loss, to be sure.
The number one rule in travel is not to look like a tourist. Every self-assured traveler like myself wants to hit the ground in a new place looking like a lifelong resident of the very same city, and who is someone who is an expert in their local scene. This is an impressive goal but doesn’t always work out that way.Using taxis overseas is a lesson in small business management. Each person plays a different role; the driver, of course, and you as a passenger. They want to charge as much as is possible for the limited amount of time you’ll be in their cab and I want to appear to be nonchalant and informed about the ride and costs.
Some years ago, I went to the Costa del Sol in Spain. The arrival airport was Malaga, Spain, and we were to make our own way to the conference. I was ok with that and headed to the taxi stand at the airport. I looked around and didn’t see anyone from our group, and I presumed they’d all taken taxis to the hotel in the Costa del Sol.I flagged down a cab and threw my stuff into the trunk..
In my most knowledgeable travel voice, I sat back and announced I wanted to go from Malaga to the Costa del Sol. The driver was suddenly beside himself. Without another word, he blasted out of the airport, and we began a really, really long ride to the hotel.Being the informed traveler that I am, I didn’t say anything. I was watching his taxi meter climb like a blood pressure test and wondering where in the heck I was?
Fast forward, literally. After many, many miles, he pulled into the hotel. He was thrilled to present me with a taxi fare bill of some $100+- the cost of our journey. I was stupefied. However, I didn’t ask for the trip cost beforehand, nor did I inquire at the airport about alternative transfer services, which nearly all other delegates to the trip took advantage of.So, the moral of this story is don’t be a know-it-all. Especially when you don’t really know anything about the new country anyway.
Not long ago, 42 Norwegian reindeer crossed the border between Norway and Russia. Russia is seeking $4.4 million in compensation from the Norwegian government for reindeer grazing in a national park.
There is a fence to prevent the deer from crossing; it was built in 1954. Now, with everything Russia has to worry about, you’d think they’d pass on reindeer. Maybe they just need the money.
My dad brought my mom and me home in style on the day I was born. My dad had a green 1939 Chevvy sedan (he bought it new) that looked like this image; we had this car until I was about eight years old, so I have a clear memory of the vehicle.
My dad called it the “Green Hornet,” which pretty well infringed on the comic book character for anyone growing up at the time. Here I am, decades later, and I’m still able to smell the inside of that car. I suppose this because my sister threw up in the back seat, and it never faded away; the seats were covered by a light tan, fuzzy carpet-like fabric. One puke and it was there forever.
Certain features of the car are so clear to me. The starter pedal was on the floor; once my dad turned the key, he had to mash this giant button to start the engine with his foot. At the same time, the gears were neutral. It ground away until the engine caught on; after a few more noises and gear shifting, we were off and rolling.
Each summer, we’d all pile into the car for our trek to Yosemite for a camping vacation. One memory stands out. My dad had a canvas water bag he filled for us to use on the trip. This bag had a rope handle and a sort-of clip-up opening for when you wanted a drink. The secret to keeping water cool was to hang the bag (by the rope) over one of the car’s front bumper guards so airflow would keep it cool. Or, so he claimed.
My mom hated every single second of these camping expeditions, especially when we’d pull over to let the car radiator cool off, and we’d try to take a drink of our not-so-cool water from the bag. I hear her voice asking why we didn’t stop at that Standard Oil station and not on the side of the hot roadway. I sure wish I had that stupid canvas bag today.
The first day of summer in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park is a day I look forward to every year. The sun is warm, and the air feels fresh. It’s nice to be outside and see the green trees and flowers in bloom. Sitting at one of the overlooks, I can see the mountains stretch out in front of me, and it’s so peaceful.
As the day comes to an end, the sunset is a perfect way to finish. Watching the colors change in the sky brings me happiness. The first day of summer here is special and reminds me of all the simple joys in life.
More than 30 years ago, I walked my daughter down the aisle on her wedding day. Not long ago, I walked the same aisle of this church to honor my eldest granddaughter on her own wedding day. It was an immediate flashback to many years ago; many of my daughter’s friends, bridesmaids, and guests who participated in her wedding were back for her daughter’s. I’ve known several of her friends since they were in 2nd grade through high school.
I must confess, more than one of her friends recognized me before I clicked on who they were. Seeing them was so much fun: little girls at first glance, beautiful moms with grown children of their own a moment later. As I watched my granddaughter and her now-husband go through their ceremony, I couldn’t help but smile at what they will experience in years to come. They have a wonderful daughter now; I know, one day Olivia will walk down that very aisle in her own beautiful wedding gown. I love that thought.
Are we there yet? 