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.
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.
I believe every front yard could use a 70’ cedar tree. It’s grown quite tall since I moved in, and luckily, I don’t need to water or trim it. A few years back, I wrapped a long strand of colorful LED lights around it, and it quickly became a local favorite, glowing beautifully each evening for a few hours. I wish I had solar-powered lights, but oh well, you can’t have everything!
One spectacular benefit of having this tree in my yard is my very own Bird Condo is steps away from the front door. All year birds come and go; one pair of cardinals has staked their patch under the tree. Even my ever-present squirrel family doesn’t dislodge them. A few hummingbirds are back for the season; I was worried when I didn’t see them earlier; however, all is well. They zoom into the feeder and disappear into the tree branches.
When and if I ever sell my home, I’ll run an ad with this headline: “Seventy-foot high Cedar tree for sale, house included at no additional cost.”
Recently, I had the great fortune to visit the National Shrine of Our Lady of La Leche in St Augustine, Florida. I hadn’t planned this visit; suddenly, I saw a beautiful garden, a statue and a cross, and this fantastic historical museum while walking along the street.
For over 450 years, this beautiful shrine with the shining silhouette of the Great Cross has graced what is called the’ sacred acre. ‘ It’s the site of the very first Mass – a heartfelt thanksgiving – held on North American soil on September 1565, 1565. Father Francisco Lopez de Gajales, who traveled with Don Pedro Menendez de Aviles, celebrated this special event as they settled what we now know as the historic city of St. Augustine.
I was completely unaware of what was happening. As we stepped into the shrine right when the doors opened, I noticed a friendly docent nearby, preparing for the day’s first tour. For nearly 30 minutes, I felt truly captivated by the story of the Spanish explorers who settled here, their history and power unfolding before me.
Having been on many docent tours, I can say that some are just okay, but this one was truly exceptional—led by someone who was passionate, knowledgeable, and brought history to life in a way that really resonated. Sometimes, unexpected moments like this come along when you least anticipate them. This was definitely one of those special times in my life, and I am incredibly grateful for the experience.
Having worked from a virtual office at home for many years, I’m quite familiar with the “work from home” experience. When I first began working remotely, companies often felt cautious; their primary concern was ensuring I remained productive throughout the day. They also had worries about things like home safety and equipment, but over time, trust and understanding grew.
Now, with zillions of folks working from home (home office or not), they only need a laptop, strong internet signals, and a video chat application. Even with this advanced technology, video chatters spend an inordinate amount of time fussing and fiddling with connections, audio, video, and who can’t sign in. Not long ago, I was on a call with people in 3 cities in the US and 2 cities in France (our US team didn’t speak French). We didn’t accomplish a single thing on that call.
In my first home office, I had everything anyone would need to work efficiently. Early on, I didn’t have computers or laptops. However, the three Kings of Communication were my fax machine, HP printer, and trusty IBM typewriter. I’ll hold out on video calls for as long as I can since Zooming is here to stay.; I guess I’ll have to look for a new fax machine to be competitive.
Last September, my beautiful great-granddaughter Olivia was born. Of course, everyone in our family instantly loves her, and I am bombarded with pictures of her progress and activities. For my birthday in December, my youngest daughter (Olivia’s grandma) gifted me an Aura digital photo frame. It’s one of the best gifts I have ever received, and I now have nearly instant pictures of Olivia’s progress. It’s fantastic.
Now, our senior family members needed a name for her to eventually call us. The range of names went from cute to questionable. Olivia’s mom has always referred to me as a super grandpa. So wait for it – that’s what Olivia will eventually call me. I really have ascended to Superstar status.
Are we there yet? 