Vieques

In front of a Peace Mural.

This is an abandoned bunker for ammunition storage. There are many of them on the western end of the island.

(Ignore the date stamps on my pictures--they are mistakes I don't know how to fix.)

I've just returned from 6 days on the island of Vieques with two dear friends. Vieques is a magical, incredibly beautiful place with a complicated history. Shamefully, the U.S. Navy occupied much of the island for more than 60 years, displacing thousands of people and exposing thousands more to a plethora of carcinogens. The Navy is now mostly gone and, ironically, much of the natural beauty of the place has therefore been preserved and protected from the mass developments that have wreaked havoc on many Carribean islands.

Thanks to a home exchange, we stayed in a great house just outside the major town of Isabel II. Feral chickens, horses and dogs wandered the narrow, steep streets and the coqui sung us to sleep at night. Our house sat atop a hill and we had views of the ocean and enjoyed constant breezes. The beaches we discovered were breathtaking. On our first day we just splashed around in the ocean giggling and whooping like maniacs because we were overwhelmed by the beauty that surrounded us.


As an indication of how relaxed I felt on this vacation, at one point while I was standing up from my beach chair, I actually drooled! And I'm not a drooler! Truly, I can not remember ever feeling so completely relaxed. It was quite a blessing.

We made some stupid videos of ourselves. In fact, much of the delight of this vacation was the complete, silly abandon in which we indulged. Really, I think there is nothing more fun than acting really stupid and laughing at your self. I particularly like this two part series where Carolyn and I are preparing to visit the bioluminscent bay.

Incedentally, I was stung by a jellyfish in the biobay. I had been in the water and was splashing around, digging the light my body created and the drips that turn into stars when I raised up my arm or leg, when I felt a stinging on one ankle and then the other. I quickly swam for my kayak as I just wanted to get out of the water; it was dark and there was something in there that wanted to get me! It hurt a bit, but I did not, as our guide suggested, pee on myself. It would have to hurt a lot more to suffer the humiliation of peeing on myself in front of 10 or so strangers. One other man in our group was stung and my friends said he freaked out way more than I did, so I'm proud that I maintained my composure. During our paddle back, Carolyn had a fish jump into her boat (a glowing fish--it's all a-glow in the bay) which made her yell, "fish in the boat, fish in the boat!" And we all got to see fish swimming and jumping and creating light and sparkles in the dark of night. It was mind blowing. The next day, and still now, I feel as though it were a dream, and this sensation is only enhanced by my jellyfish sting. I hope someday to bring the kids to the bio bay, though I may not encourage them to swim, at least without good, fair warning about the possibility of a sting.

Here CB, and I give a tour of our neighborhood.
On the ferry to Vieques.

Illegal Deer

I'm about to blog about my trip to Vieques, but first a short rant: As many of you probably know, it is rifle season here in Vermont. I am a supporter of deer hunting. Last year, Netdahe got a deer and we had a wonderful, family "thanksgiving" meal. Dahe hunted respectfully and talked about this experience in an honest and beautiful way. We cooked and ate that animal with respect and love. Many families around here stock their freezer with local, healthy meat for the year. I believe in this.

Today as I headed out for a run with Rosie she immediately spotted something in the woods directly across the road from our house. I called her off, but quickly realized that it was a deer and that it was struggling. I watched as it fell, got up and tried to run, fell again, repeat. I went back into the house and called our local constable (Paul, who is past 70 and the guy you call for anything if you live in Burke). I had to leave a message as he was likely enjoying a Thanksgiving meal somewhere. After our run, he returned my call and suggested I call the game warden, which I did, but the game warden was out responding to a complaint and ultimately arresting someone (ah, deer season!). So Paul came by and I indicated the area where I'd seen the deer and described her/his behavior). He went out after it and just came back a few minutes ago to tell me that he'd found it, it was still struggling, and that he'd taken care of it. He also said it was an illegal one. So obviously some careless hunter shot it, realized he couldn't legally take it, and abandoned it to die a long, suffering death. Now that pisses me off. That's what gives deer hunting a bad name. Thanks to Paul for taking time out of his holiday to end the creature's suffering. And fuck the bastard who didn't bother to check carefully before shooting and then cowardly abandoned his "kill".

Of Course I Can Dance, Of Course I Can Dance!

Update** The comments on this posting are much more interesting than the posting!

This is a great reminder that I am a child of the 70's. This song reminds me of a time when I was very young, maybe 2 or 3 years old. I have only a vague memory of riding in a volkswagen bus (or maybe it was just an Econoline van) through a field. I can see the tall grass whipping against the side of the van because we were riding with the side door open, which was exciting and lots of fun. I'm pretty sure Richard Schofield was driving. He was Auntie Sally's first husband, who could be very funny and charming and was always nice to me and was also an abusive asshole sometimes if you happened to be married to him; not so different from many an abusive asshole. I have no idea why we were driving through a field and not on a road. Maybe because we were outlaws! Yeah! Anyway, we ended up at some honky tonk in god-knows-what-state (was that when Sally and Richard were on the lam in Pennsylvania?) in I don't-remember-what-year. My parents and the other adults somehow convinced whoever was at the door of this honky tonk to let the little kid in (which reminds me that I think I was 3 because I remember someone saying, "she's 3. She's not going to drink.") and this Leo Sayer song was playing. I remember the way the dim lights made everything look, especially all that yellow pine; I think it was some kind of barn. I remember everyone was taller than me. I remember that I was happy because I liked this song, I knew this song and I recognized this song. I remember the grown ups were all happy and I was glad to be a part of the festivities. Times change and my mom might not like to hear that she brought her 3 year old to a honky tonk (but she would have only been 22!!! And Sally 20! Dad, on the other hand, might have been old enough to know better, but he was a late bloomer). But it was fun and I was safe, or at least protected by my grownups. And loved and included. And I f-ing LOVED dancing to this song!!!

Shea Shea, O Lait!...And Other Wacko Kids

We got to have an audience with Baby Shea this weekend.


Mini Dance Party

Pat reads to Nina.

Shea's momma is pretty cute, too.

Pump The Music Up Selecta!

My homies (aka superstars) return from a potty break on the way to Montreal.

Going to see Spearhead is always a wonderful, happy fun time. All that dancing and jumping, smiling faces and love filled music...it's inspiring and invigorating. And great to share it with beauties like Sandy, Sammi and Sam (and the security dudes).

Now What Do We Do?

Restless

Happy Birthday Dad!

Super cool.

Today is my dad's 66th birthday. I'm so happy he was born. He's a pretty wonderful guy, grandpa and father. I love you Pops!

I'm glad I spent the last 20 years with you.

Okay, it's really only a little more than 19 years, but 20 sounds more dramatic.

We were 2, now we're 4. Crazy. And wonderful.