Author Archives: kzmclain

Saturday Smile: Grand Homecoming

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Bill and I are happy when we’re in Arizona. We love our little house. It’s wonderful to be with our Arizona family. The weather is almost always amazing. Superstition Mountain is as beautiful as can be.

But Arizona doesn’t have our grandkids. And we have been blessed with a number of visits from kids and grandkids since we arrived home, and are looking forward to more because Heather and Lauren and Joseph and Micah are on their way even as you read this blog post. They will be spending the week of Thanksgiving with all of us here.

We were greeted shortly after we arrived home on Wednesday with a quick visit from Alastair, Dagny, Maggie Faith, and Jll. The highlight of that visit was when Alastair went out into our back yard which is covered with snow to test how solid the ice was in our little pond – WITHOUT ANY SHOES OR SOCKS ON HIS FEET. The thing is, he didn’t even seem to notice.

Thursday Court, Alyx, Kaiya, Mylee, and Cole came for dinner. Perhaps the highlight of that visit was watching Cole dance. And he doesn’t even need music. He just moves his little feet and dances like he’s on American Bandstand when the activity is suggested to him. See, he’s not really such a nerd…..

Cole Clark Kent 2015

Yesterday, we had another visit from Alastair and Dagny while their mom and Maggie Faith went to watch Addie play volleyball (whose team unfortunately lost the championship game). It was very cold and both of them were happy to be greeted with hot chocolate, Oreos, and uninterrupted cartoons as they arrived from school….

Dagny Alastair hot chocolate

And Papa was happy to have help from Alastair bringing the Christmas tree up from its basement home….

Alastair christmas tree 2015

Grandkids are a wonderful thing.

Have a wonderful weekend.

 

 

Friday Book Whimsy: Why Not Me?

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searchI will tell you the truth right up front. I love Mindy Kaling. I am not her demographic. I am way older than what I would believe is her typical fan. But The Office, for which she wrote many episodes and appeared as Kelly Kapoor, made me laugh (until Steve Carrell left at which time it didn’t make me laugh any more). And I found her own show, The Mindy Project, to be quite quirky and funny in a just-short-of-offensive way. Admittedly, I don’t find it funny enough to pay money to watch it now on Hulu, which picked it up after it was cancelled by Fox.

Her first memoir, Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me?, was humorous and provided the reader with a good sense of what it’s like to break into television, especially for a minority. Why Not Me? continues her personal story via short and very amusing essays.

The book – and Ms. Kaling – wouldn’t be for everyone. She doesn’t hold back from saying what she thinks. In fact, if you watched The Mindy Project, it appears you will have a pretty good idea of who Kaling is (though one of the essays in the book is about ways in which she is different from the character she plays on The Mindy Project – i.e. TV Mindy would sue a Boston Market for giving too-small helpings of sides, and TV Mindy would own a gun and keep misplacing it). Still, the irreverence seems to be the same.

While not particularly a fan of nonfiction, I am – oddly, perhaps – a fan of biographies and memoirs. Caveat, I simply loathe the self-indulgent oh-poor-me-I-grew-up-in-a-dysfunctional-family memoirs seemingly written by anyone who knows how to use a keyboard. I enjoy memoirs in which the writer doesn’t take himself or herself too seriously and can make me laugh, or has a truly interesting story to tell. Why Not Me? meets both criteria.

The book reads very quickly and I finished it in one day. It was a nice break from the serious books I had been reading as of late.

If memoirs are your cup of tea, give Why Not Me? a try.

Here is a link to the book.

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Airplane 2015

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Can you fly this plane, and land it?
Surely you can’t be serious.
I am serious and don’t call me Shirley. – from Airplane

Airplane_screenshot_Haggerty_NielsenEveryone who has flown more than a couple of times has a horror story about flying. I’m not talking about lost luggage or a seatmate who needs a shower or a child kicking the back of your seat relentlessly for three-and-a-half hours. I’m talking about one of those experiences where you’re pretty darn sure you’re going to die midair.

Here’s an example: On September 11, 2002, Court was flying out of an airport in NYC. The plane had only been in the air a few minutes when suddenly the cabin began filling up with smoke. As you can imagine, he (and likely everyone else) FREAKED OUT. It turned out to be some sort of kitchen problem. (Flight Attendants, please remove the aluminum foil from your breakfast burrito before you put it in the microwave. Thank you for your attention to this matter.) Unfortunately passengers weren’t made aware of this fact until the plane had turned around and was heading back to the airport. Since it was the anniversary of 9/11, you can imagine what they were all thinking. Yikes.

The flight between Phoenix and Denver, while only an hour-and-a-half long, is notoriously bumpy. Either the plane encounters the 115 degree air of Phoenix or the windy conditions of Denver International Airport or the warm air meeting the cold air over the Rocky Mountains. Somewhere, somehow, the plane bounces.

Jen and I have made that flight together many times, and there have been many instances where we have held each other’s sweaty hands as the plane bounced around. One flight in particular bumped without stopping for nearly the entire flight. There was more puking than fraternity pledges at the first party of the semester. Not Jen and I, though. We were too busy saying Hail Marys.

Bill and I flew from Phoenix back to Denver yesterday on a Southwest Airline flight. It wasn’t a good sign when, even before taking off, the pilot began warning us that we were going to encounter turbulence near Denver due to extremely high winds. Awesome.

It also wasn’t a good sign when the flight attendants began collecting trash nearly an hour before we were supposed to land, explaining to us that the pilots made them do it.

And as expected, suddenly, as we neared Denver, the plane was hit by what I presume was a gust of wind that knocked it to hell and back. At that moment, while everyone else was shouting in terror and reaching desperately for their loved ones, I grabbed my guitar and began singing Bridge Over Troubled Water in an effort to calm everyone down.

When you’re weary, feeling small
When tears are in your eyes, I will dry them all.

Yeah, well, of course that’s not what really happened. What actually happened is that I grabbed hold of Bill with enough force to send pain shooting down his legs and began to cry. I couldn’t help it. One by one, my grandkids’ faces flashed before my eyes. I was 78 percent sure I wasn’t ever going to see them again. Addie, Alastair, Dagny, Magnolia…..

Bill, who is a trained pilot (who thankfully no longer flies small airplanes) patiently explained to me what was happening. It had something to do, he said, with the snow on the ground and then patches where there was no snow and so warm air met cold air and ….. Kaiya, Mylee, Cole…..

“We’re not going to come around and check to see if your tray tables are back in place and your seats are fully upright,” said the flight attendants as they clung to their seats. “We’re on the honor system today.” Joseph, Micah…..

Well, I posted this entry on my blog, so you have surmised that we survived the plane ride. As we taxied towards our gate, I asked Bill if he had been nervous.

“Naw,” he said. “Not at all.”

“Really?” I asked him. “Not even a little bit?”

He finally admitted that he had been a little bit nervous.

I’m pretty sure the only thing that kept him from panic equaling mine was that he was more concerned with the fact that he had no blood flowing from his left extremities.

Words of Wisdom

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I came across this list of advice to remember on Pinterest, so unfortunately I am unable to give credit. It was pinned from a website called lolsnaps.com. These words of wisdom originate from someone’s high school yearbook, so many are directly apropos to high school kids. Still, I think ALL of them are important to remember as we go through life. I’m guessing the list was constructed by a teacher or a bunch of teachers, and are in no particular order. I absolutely LOVE this list and I think all of you will agree…..

  1. There are plenty of ways to enter a pool. The stairs is not one of them.
  2. Never cancel dinner plans by text message.
  3. Don’t knock it ‘til you try it.
  4. If a street performer makes you stop walking, you owe him a buck.
  5. Always use “we” when referring to your home team or your government.
  6. When entrusted with a secret, keep it.
  7. Don’t underestimate free throws in a game of HORSE.
  8. Just because you can doesn’t mean you should.
  9. Don’t dumb it down.
  10. You only get one chance to notice a new haircut.
  11. If you’re staying more than one night, unpack.
  12. Never park in front of a bar.
  13. Expect the seat in front of you to recline. Prepare accordingly.
  14. Keep a picture of your first fish, first car, and first girl/boyfriend.
  15. Hold your heroes to a high standard.
  16. A suntan is earned, not bought.
  17. Never lie to your doctor.
  18. All guns are loaded.
  19. Don’t mention sunburns. Believe me, they know.
  20. The best way to show thanks is to wear it. Even if it’s only once.
  21. Take a vacation of your cell phone, internet, and TV once a year.
  22. Don’t fill up on bread, no matter how good.
  23. A handshake beats an autograph.
  24. Don’t linger in the doorway. In or out.
  25. If you choose to go in drag, don’t sell yourself short.
  26. If you want to know what makes you unique, sit for a caricature.
  27. Never get your hair cut the day of a special event.
  28. Be mindful of what comes between you and the earth. Always buy good shoes, tires, and sheets.
  29. Never eat lunch at your desk if you can avoid it.
  30. When you’re with new friends, don’t just talk about old friends.
  31. Eat lunch with the new kids.
  32. When traveling, keep your wits about you.
  33. It’s never too late for an apology.
  34. Don’t pose with booze.
  35. If you have the right of way, TAKE IT.
  36. You don’t get to choose your own nickname.
  37. When you marry someone, remember you marry their entire family.
  38. Never push someone off a dock.
  39. Under no circumstances should you ask a woman if she is pregnant.
  40. It’s not enough to be proud of your ancestry; live up to it.
  41. Don’t make a scene.
  42. When giving a thank you speech, short and sweet is best.
  43. Know when to ignore the camera.
  44. Never gloat.
  45. Invest in great luggage.
  46. Make time for your mom on your birthday. It’s her special day too.
  47. When opening presents, no one likes a good guesser.
  48. Sympathy is a crutch; never fake a limp.
  49. Give credit. Take blame.
  50. Suck it up every now and again.
  51. Never be the last one in the pool.
  52. Don’t stare.
  53. Address everyone that carries a firearm professionally.
  54. Stand up to bullies. You’ll only have to do it once.
  55. If you’ve made your point, stop talking.
  56. Admit it when you’re wrong.
  57. If you offer to help, don’t quit until the job is done.
  58. Look people in the eye when you thank them.
  59. Thank the bus driver.
  60. Never answer the phone at the dinner table.
  61. Forgive yourself for your mistakes.
  62. Know at least one good joke.
  63. Don’t boo. Even the ref is somebody’s son or daughter.
  64. Know how to cook one good meal.
  65. Learn to drive a stick shift.
  66. Be cool to younger kids. Reputations are built over a lifetime.
  67. It’s okay to go to the movies by yourself.
  68. Dance with your mother/father.
  69. Don’t lose your cool. Especially at work.
  70. Always thank the host.
  71. If you don’t understand, ask before it’s too late.
  72. Know the size of your boyfriend/girlfriend’s clothes.
  73. There is nothing wrong with a plain t-shirt.
  74. Be a good listener. Don’t just take your turn to talk.
  75. Keep your word.
  76. In college, always sit in the front. You’ll stand out immediately. Come grade time, it might come in handy.
  77. Carry your mother’s bags. She carried you for nine months.
  78. Be patient with airport security. They are just doing their job.
  79. Don’t be the talker in a movie.
  80. The opposite sex likes people who shower.
  81. You are what you do, not what you say.
  82. Learn to change a tire.
  83. Be kind. Everyone has a hard fight ahead of them.
  84. An hour with grandparents is time well spent. Ask for advice when you need it.
  85. Don’t litter.
  86. If you have a sister, get to know her friends. Your opinion is important.
  87. You won’t always be the strongest or the fastest. But you can be the toughest.
  88. Never call someone before 9 a.m. or after 9 p.m.
  89. Buy the orange properties in Monopoly.
  90. Make the little things count.
  91. Always wear a bra at work.
  92. There is a fine line between looking sultry and slutty. Find it.
  93. You’re never too old to need your mom.
  94. Ladies, if you make the decision to wear heels on the first date, commit to keeping them on and keeping your trap shut about how much your feet hurt.
  95. Know the words to your national anthem.
  96. Your dance moves might not be the best, but I promise making a fool of yourself is more fun than sitting on the bench alone.
  97. Smile at strangers.
  98. Make goals.
  99. Being old is not dictated by your bedtime.
  100. If you have to fight, punch first and punch hard.

Wash Day

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T220px-Prayerflagshis past weekend I walked over to our neighborhood shopping center to pick up a loaf of bread. My route takes me past a neighborhood where the back yards of the houses face the street on which I walk. I noticed in one of the backyards what I immediately thought was a line of Tibetan prayer flags …. you know, those colorful flags often displayed in a row on porches by people who are neither Tibetan nor pray-ers. But they are pretty.

Except that these were not, as it turned out upon closer inspection, Tibetan prayer flags. They were, in fact, cloth diapers hanging on a clothes line. My sincere apologies to the Dalai Lama, who I’m pretty sure reads this blog. Once in a while I see a hit from Tibet. I’m not kidding. I really do. I envision some Buddhist monk high in the Himalyas with a computer googling the word whimsies in a search for a new kind of prayer and stumbling upon the blog of this humble writer.

Anyhoo, my confusion can be explained because there really is a house in our neighborhood in Denver that has a back yard facing the street down which I drive a thousand times a week that has what really are Tibetan prayer flags lining their patio. In fact, they get on Kaiya’s last nerve. The first time she noticed them, she was excited to point out that “those people are getting ready for a party.” But as the days, weeks, and months went by and they are still there, her patience is getting frayed. No party. Take down the damn party flags, People!

But back to the diapers. I started wondering when was the last time I saw diapers hanging on a clothesline, and realized that it was probably 35 years ago when Court was a baby and we hung his diapers on our clothesline. You see, it was 1980 and we were holdouts in the Age of the Disposable Diaper. It wasn’t that we were environmentalists worried about landfills full of disposable diapers. We were simply broke. I was using my journalism degree to be a secretary. Court’s father had a degree in psychology and was using it to eke out a living working at a home for developmentally disabled adults. Neither salary was conducive to frivolous expenses like toss-away diapers.

We rented the top unit in an up-and-down duplex, and access to a washer and dryer was included. But there was also a clothesline in the backyard, and so I would almost always – even in the winter months – hang the diapers (and other clothes) on the clothesline. That’s what my mother did; that’s what I did. The sun, she used to say, sterilized the diapers. That is likely a fact. But the other thing it did was make the diapers and other items stiff as a board. Seriously, you could practically stand them up. A good shaking left the diapers foldable, but you can imagine how soft and fluffy they WEREN’T. It’s a wonder Court isn’t an axe murderer. Poor Bud.

Still, years later when Court and I lived in our little house in Denver, there was a clothesline in the back yard. Though I had a dryer, I very often hung clothes on the clothesline instead of firing up the dryer, which was located in the back breezeway. And I wasn’t the only one who felt that way. Our neighbor often asked if she could use the clothes line to dry her clothes if I wasn’t already using it. Stiff or not, it really does make the clothes smell fresh and well, outdoorsy.

Arles Laundry

Clothes hanging to dry outside an apartment in Arles, France.

There is simply something so pleasant about seeing clean laundry flapping in the breeze while hanging out to dry. I used to love seeing the clothes hanging from the windows in France and Italy during our various travels.

So the bottom line is I can understand why the person had the diapers hanging from the clothesline here in Mesa. But I still don’t understand the Tibetan prayer flags in Denver. When’s the party finally going to take place?

This post linked to the GRAND Social

Evil

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142198193.jpg.CROP.rectangle3-largeIt so happened that the gospel at Mass this past weekend as we near the season of Advent was St. Mark’s take on what Jesus said about the end times.

….the sun will be darkened, and the moon will not give its light, and the stars will be falling from the sky, and the powers in the heavens will be shaken. And then they will see the Son of Man coming in the clouds with great power and glory, and then he will send out the angels and gather his elect from the four winds, from the end of the earth to the end of the sky.

Dang, that gospel – as well as similar words coming from St. Matthew, St. Luke, and let’s not forget the light-hearted Book of Revelation as written by St. John – scared the HELL out of me when I was a kid. Frankly, it makes me squirm even now as an adult. I used to get caught up in all of the predictions about end times until Bill reminded me that Jesus goes on to say But of that day or hour, no one knows, neither the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father.

Oh yeah. I’ll start using up the canned beans stored in my basement in preparation for the end of the world.

Despite becoming so mature, I will admit that I was struck by Mark’s gospel in light of the dreadful circumstances in Paris this past week. I wondered if and how the priest would address all of this in his homily. Is the world, in fact, coming to an end?

The priest who said our Mass retired from somewhere in Minnesota to the warm climes of Arizona and serves our parish during the winter months when the church’s population doubles in size. He is probably in his 70s with a gruff-sounding voice which belies his always wonderful and generally gentle homilies. But it became clear very quickly that he was PISSED OFF. He started off by saying should one of the ISIS members who terrorized Paris walk into the church, if he could make it back to him before he was gunned down by an AK47, he would punch the crap out of him. Not particularly priestly, but certainly an honest representation of the way many of us feel.

But he went on to remind us that it’s pointless to point fingers at God or wonder how God can let something like that happen. No one, said Father O’Neill, can truly understand evil. Probably not even the evil-doers themselves, who claim to terrorize in the name of Allah.

Father O’Neill never once used the word devil in his homily. Instead, he continued to use the word evil. To be perfectly honest, I don’t know how I feel about the idea of a devil. It’s a concept my teeny little brain can’t wrap itself around. But I do know that evil exists in our world – incredibly, horribly, awful evil. But God didn’t shoot those people who went out to hear some music or enjoy a nice meal with friends or family. Evil human beings used man-made weapons to do their evil deeds. And there has been evil in our world since Adam and Eve. The Paris attacks — and all other evil in our world — are not sure signs of the end of the world. Only God knows when that will be.

Father said perhaps God is testing our love, both for Him and for our fellow human beings. “But if I could,” said Father O’Neill looking up at the ceiling and heaven beyond, “I would definitely ask the Holy Spirit to stop the testing.”

Me too.

Saturday Smile: We’ll Be Right Back After This Murder

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Addie playbill (1)There are good things and bad things about spending the colder months in Arizona. The good thing is we spend the colder months in Arizona. In other words, we missed out on Denver’s recent (if somewhat minor) snow storm. Instead, we were enjoying our evening glasses of wine on our patio.

But the bad thing is that we sometimes miss significant occasions in our grandkids’ lives. For example, this past week, our eldest granddaughter Adelaide — a 7th grader at Hamilton Middle School in Denver — had a role in her school play — We’ll Be Right Back After This Murder. She played Dorthella Hepplewhite who may or may not have murdered her brother. I don’t know because I DIDN’T GET TO SEE THE PLAY. Addie’s character had a significant number of lines, which isn’t a problem for Addie who likely not only memorized her own lines, but also those of all of her fellow cast members. It’s how she rolls. With luck, she was able to keep her lips from moving as she recited their lines along with them. The play apparently went very well, judging at least from the text messages I got from her throughout the two days that the play ran.

Adelaide (as Dorthella) is wearing blue and a funny hat in keeping with her 60-something character (although I am almost 62 and don't wear hats).

Adelaide (as Dorthella) is wearing blue and a funny hat in keeping with her 60-something character (although I am almost 62 and don’t wear hats).

We couldn’t be more proud of her. I feel compelled to add that we knew she could be an actor from the time she was about 2 years old!

Have a great weekend.

Friday Book Whimsy: The Care and Handling of Roses with Thorns

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searchWhen we first bought our house , there was a rose garden in the back yard. I love roses. They are so beautiful, fragile and yet resilient, and the blossoms smell so good. But it took no more than a season or two for me to destroy each and every rose bush. They require a lot of tender, loving care.

I thought about my short-lived tenure as a rose gardener as I read The Care and Handling of Roses with Thorns by Margaret Dilloway. Growing roses is not for the timid gardener. It requires a lot of patience, and you have to not mind getting stuck by the thorns.

Galilee “Gal” Garner – the protagonist in The Care and Handling of Roses with Thorns, has spent much of her adult life tending to her roses. She is not just a rose gardener, but passionately pursues her hobby of breeding new hybrids with the ultimate goal of getting a new rose into the market. She earns her living as a high school biology teacher, but who she is was primarily shaped by the fact that she has been on kidney dialysis for most of her life. She has had – and rejected – several kidney transplants. As the novel takes place, she is awaiting a new kidney, and must spend every other night undergoing dialysis. At the same time, she is awaiting recognition for her roses. It’s an interesting dichotomy.

Because so much of her parents’ lives were spent handling Gal’s illness, Gal’s younger sister grew up using drugs and alcohol to garner attention. Her actions result in her teenaged daughter Riley coming to live with Gal for a period of time. The situation changes all of their lives.

Gal’s personality is prickly at best. And my use of the term prickly is no accident, as Dilloway is clearly urging us to compare roses to our heroine.  Thorny on the outside, but lovely when you look beyond the thorns.

The story develops slowly – perhaps a bit too slowly. Once you have the background (that is, learn a lot about kidney disease, dialysis, and roses), and more importantly upon the arrival of Riley, the storyline blossoms (sorry, no pun intended). I couldn’t put the book down.

Gal isn’t an easy character to like, and I think that’s the way Dilloway intended it. You know – roses with thorns. But she also isn’t an easy character to forget, especially once you get to know her. I enjoyed learning about roses. I now have a much clearer picture of what it’s like to depend on dialysis to live. I even understand the ups and downs of being a teacher.

The Care and Handling of Roses with Thorns is a lovely story, and I recommend you give it a read.

Here is a link to the book.

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Thursday Thoughts

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Weather Woes
1610830_927480157300532_3800669740923036085_nWell, we survived the temperature drop here in the Land of the Sun. On my Facebook timeline the other day, I posted something from the Arizona Fox affiliate showing the 10-day forecast which indicated a drop of temperatures into the mid-60s, and their suggestion that we all dig out our gloves, scarves and boots. To be fair, the temperature dropped into the low- to mid-40s during the night, and while that wouldn’t necessarily require what my mother always called mukluks, one’s fingers might get chilly. I must also add something else about our weather. The other day when I blogged about the Arizona media talking about so-called “cold temperatures” that were actually mid-60s, I (and others) commented about Arizonans being weather wimps. This suggestion caused my always-practical brother to send me a text in which he invited anyone who thinks Phoecians are wimps to stand beside him in the bakery department of the various Basha’s grocery stores in which he works when the temperature outside is 115 degrees. Point taken.

If It’s Broke
I mentioned that upon our arrival here in Arizona, Bill has been at work fixing a washing machinevariety of household minor calamities. One toilet fixed – check. Bushes cut back – check. Fixed breaker switch that had tripped – check. Washed dirty window – check. Fixed washing machine – NOT CHECK. Of course, as you would imagine, the fact that the washing machine remains broken is not his fault. He spent several days taking the machine apart, no simple task since the large mineral content in Phoenix’s water results in metal parts being almost impossibly stuck together. Still, he was successful and has ordered the part that needs to be replaced. Currently, the washing machine is in the hallway leading to Jen’s bedroom – the Sanchez Wing is what we call it. Unfortunately, it leaves a space of about 6 inches in which to get by. It seemed workable since Jen is not here. Adults use the other bathroom. Jen’s grands can squeeze by and are happily able to reach their toys in her bedroom. How nice to be 5 and almost-2.

Hug a Vet

Bill enjoys his Italian beef sandwich -- free because he is a veteran.

Bill enjoys his Italian beef sandwich — free because he is a veteran.

We decided yesterday that since we were less likely to have walking weather when we go back to Denver next week, we would forgo our inside exercise and walk outdoors instead. Now, when it comes to walking for exercise, I like to go around in measurable circles. There is a park nearby with a lake that I know is eight-tenths of a mile around, and there is a sidewalk. So I’m prone to

walking three times around the lake and calling it my exercise. Bill, on the other hand, heartily dislikes walking in circles and is much more inclined to prefer a destination walk. What we chose to do, then, was to park our car in that very park and walk to a destination, namely the nearby Chicago hot dog joint. Back and forth added up to just over a couple of miles. The restaurant is owned by a young man from Chicago, and he is always there and knows regulars by name and by order. Also always there is his father, who cleans tables and chats up the regulars. Yesterday, when the Chicago dogyoung owner took our order, he asked if either of us was a veteran. Bill told him that he had served in the Army. “Well, then your lunch is on my dad,” the young man said. “He’s picking up the tab on all veterans’ meals today.” Son of a gun. Is that not the nicest thing you’ve ever heard?

Far from Madding Crowd
Now here’s a random thought to share today. Following Mass on Sunday, Bill and I took a walk around the huge flea market that is open Fridays, Saturdays, and Sundays during the cooler winter months. We didn’t really have anything in mind to purchase, but it’s always fun to see what’s for sale. After we left, Bill said, “Wow, it’s nice to get far from the maddening crowd.” I agreed, and then asked him, “Did you know that the book title you are referencing does not actually use the word maddening? The title is actually Far From the Madding Crowd. Bill admitted he didn’t know that, and it got us both to wondering just what the word madding means. Well, Ladies and Gentlemen, it means maddening. I wonder why Thomas Hardy didn’t just use the word maddening. Show off.

Ciao.

Reluctant Traveler: D-Day Redux

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In 2008, Bill and I spent three-and-a-half months traveling around Europe — Spain, Italy, France, Germany, and Austria. During our travels, I wrote a blog called The Reluctant Traveler in which I told of our daily adventures. It was, in fact, my first experience with blogging. In honor of Veterans’ Day, I am reprinting my blog post from August 3, 2008, on which date we were visiting Normandy and the sites of the D-Day invasion. Though it deals specifically with the World War II battle, it is meant as a tribute to all those men and women who have served our country in the Armed Forces. Thank you to one and all!

D-Day

Sunday, August 3, 2008

After spending the entire day yesterday looking at the various sites of the battles that were fought to liberate France, and eventually to win World War II, as we drove home I asked Bill how he felt. “Pretty proud to be American,” he answered. I knew exactly what he meant.

The day was kind of dreary, one of the few overcast days we’ve had during our entire adventure. It couldn’t quite make up its mind – it would drizzle, then the sun would peak out of clouds. It never quite rained. The weather suited the day, we felt. The weather was overcast too on June 6, 1944.

Traffic was awful. Everyone was on the autostrada getting away for holiday. What should have been an hour-and-a-half drive took us twice that long.

Since we only had a day, we decided to focus on the areas in which America had the impact. As such, we only saw the Canadian cemetery in the distance as we drove by, and the same was true for Sword, Juno, and Gold Beaches, where Great Britain and Canada soldiers came on shore.

Our first stop was just above the little French town of Arromanches, high on the cliffs above the Normandy beaches, where there was a 360 degree theater. The film shown on this circular screen was powerful. The film director intermixed current scenes from the little towns that line the Normandy coast with film taken on June 6, 1944, as our soldiers stormed the beach. There was no dialogue, and the only sounds you heard were the sounds heard by the soldiers as guns fired and planes flew overhead, or the sounds of a peaceful rural French life. The 1944 scenes were graphic, violent, poignant, and awe-inspiring while the current scenes were pretty and colorful and filled with joy. The contrast made a very strong point – the towns around the Normandy beaches owe their freedom from the Nazis to the United States of America and the other allies.

After viewing the film, we got back in our car to drive to the little French town of Longues-sur-Mer. Here we stopped in a small boulangerie and picked up two ham, Gruyere cheese, and tomato sandwiches smeared with good French butter, and two wonderful pastries for dessert. We then drove a few blocks towards the sea, to an area where there were four German bunkers with their guns still intact. These guns had the ability to shoot up to 13 miles. The clear shot the Germans had of the beach was absolutely bone-chilling.

We ate our lunch at one of the little picnic tables they had set up for that purpose. As we ate, we tried to figure out how the French bakers can get the baguette so perfectly crusty on the outside and so chewy and delicious on the inside. It’s a reality I will continue to ponder.

Our next stop was Omaha Beach, and the American cemetery. We walked through the museum, which gave a lot of information about the events leading up to the war, and even more interesting (at least to me), the events and discussions that went on during the days just prior to D-Day. While I could always imagine how much thought went into planning a battle such as that fought on June 6, I had never really realized that the Americans had tricked the Germans into thinking a bigger battle was going to be fought elsewhere. The Americans used false communications, fake airplanes, and other kinds of trickery that helped catch the Germans off guard and lulled them into thinking that, even as our soldiers were storming the beaches, this battle was not to be taken that seriously.

After visiting the museum, we walked down to the beach. I think of my entire day, this was what moved me the most. The beach area from where the water meets the shore to where the soldiers would have some trees or shrubs for protection was easily the length of two football fields. (And speaking of football, the next time I hear a sports announcer refer to a football player as a hero, I think I will put a rock through my television screen. Football players are not heroes. Twenty-year-old boys climbing off boats carrying hundreds of pounds on their backs, running to the shore, and then crawling on their bellies for 200 yards or more while getting shot at are heroes.)

After looking at the beach, we walked back up to the cemetery. Of course, the sight of all of these white marble crosses and stars of David is poignant beyond belief. Each marker has the name and rank of the soldier and the day he died. I always forget that the battles of Normandy went on not just for this one day, but for months. There are a number of markers that bear no name, but say only God knows who he is. Very sad.

 

We left the cemetery and drove a bit further up the coast to Pointe du Hoc Ranger Monument. We decided to stop here at the last moment, and I’m glad we did. Pointe du Hoc was an area where, early on June 6, 300 US Army Rangers climbed the cliffs of this heavily German-fortified position to secure it for the allies. They were successful, but only after losing over two-thirds of the soldiers. Out of the 300 Rangers, 95 survived. The area was heavily bombed and the huge holes where the bombs had dropped are amazing and a somber reminder of the power of those bombs.

craters

Our last stop of the day was in Ste Mere Eglise, the first town to be liberated by the American soldiers on June 7, 1944. This pretty little town is in the general area where the 101st and 82nd Airborne soldiers dropped early on June 6 to land behind enemy lines. If you saw the movie The Longest Day, you will recall that one soldier got caught on the church steeple and played dead for a number of hours while German soldiers took shots at him. As he hung helplessly, he watched the ensuing battle below. The people of this town, to this day, have American flags hanging and have a parachute with a dummy hanging on the steeple of the church in commemoration.

It had been a long and somber day, but one that made me very proud.