Worst trip ever and my bloody office

      I got on a plane again, and I wasn’t particularly happy with my route or carrier(s), but someone else was paying, so I didn’t have a voice, except the one inside my head, begging them to put me on another flight. I had to fly American from Huntsville to Chicago (oof). I deleted the American app from my phone a few years ago, certain that I’d never fly them again. I’m married to the Star Alliance program and American and Star Alliance? Well, they’re currently not talking to each other. So it was painful. What is the lowest possible boarding group you can be in? Go ahead, take a guess. This is what I heard: Military members, you are welcome to board, Families traveling with young children or those needing assistance, you are welcome to board. Group 1, you are welcome to board. Group 2, you are welcome to board. Group 3 you are welcome to board. Group 4 you are welcome to board. Group 5 you are welcome to board. (Getting bored of this yet?) Group 6 you are welcome to board. Group 7 you are welcome to board and Group 8, you are welcome to board. That was me, group 8. The humiliation. This was just the beginning of the first delayed flight and it got way worse from there, turning what was supposed to be a mere 20 hour trip into a 4 day expedition, filled with follies and fuck ups at every possible fork in the air. 

     But I finally got to my destination, and without disclosing specifics, here’s the background: a project in the Middle East with 2000+ employees, 33 different nationalities, which, in my twisted mind, translates to a whole lot of fun. My accommodations? The holy grail of billets in the Middle East: a wet CHU. For those not familiar with the nomenclature, CHU is an acronym for Containerized Housing Unit and wet, ahh, that’s where the holy grail part comes in. A wet CHU has a shower, sink and toilet inside the CHU. When I was being taken to my quarters, my colleague said, “And your hooch is wet. You may have to share with the person next door…” I had a horrible sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. I thought I had made a terrible mistake. I’m too old for *ahem* that shit, so to speak. To my immense relief, when I opened the door to the bathing facilities, there was no connecting door. The knots in my stomach were immediately untwisted and I felt a weight lifted off my shoulders. It was going to be okay. The CHU is nicely kitted out as well with refrigerator, microwave, TV with a bazillion channels, WiFi, ice cold ac for the stifling hot summer and heated for the surprisingly cold winters. I have a great team and an embarrassingly large office. I had a meeting with a couple of South African guys and when they walked in, one of them said (and it’s best to imagine this in a South African accent), “Now this! This is a bloody office!”

My bloody office 

     Those with memories better than mine may recall this was my fourth attempt at retirement. I’ve been working at home sporadically, which technically qualifies as a fail, but this gig really vaults me firmly into the fourth time loser category. When I was interviewing for the job, the first level director asked me why I was interested in going overseas again. I said, “The pandemic. This whole year. I’ve just been bored.” I always believe in brutal honesty, it’s important for them to know who they may be potentially hiring. The boredom has officially ended. 

     And hey, shout out to my dad, who is a fantastic human being, all the other dads, the moms and moms raising kids, and all of the single moms pulling double duty. Because raising kids is NEVER boring. 

 

 

2020 and on...

2020 started out innocuously enough. I left my temporary work gig on Kwajalein in early January, came back to Huntsville and promptly flew out to Maui to visit my brother and daughter, ‘cause I work the mileage game ruthlessly. There were some jokes about Corona virus back then and maybe a nagging thought in the back of our lizard brains that it might be coming to the U.S. I took a trip to see my parents in February, again banking miles. We talked about the virus in Italy, and speculated that it could already be in the U.S. Then came March. I had a trip planned to Thailand and Malaysia and cancelled it at the.very.last.moment. And then. And then the world came crashing down. It was in the U.S. It was almost everywhere. A few countries (all island nations) shut down their borders hard and had zero reported cases of COVID-19. They are: Federated States of Micronesia, Republic of the Marshall Islands, Vanuatu, Tokelau, Niue, Republic of Palau, Nauru, Kiribati, The Cook Islands and American Samoa. North Korea and Turkmenistan have reported zero cases of COVID-19, but I’m pretty sure they’re fibbing.

2020, and the beginning of 2021 has sucked for everyone. We were all locked down for a while, some harder than others. In the Philippines, since March 2020 and until today, children under the age of 15 have been required to remain in their residences at all times. Cock fighting pits are open though, per the Economist. Priorities. 

We all got used to Zoom. When the person chairing the meeting asks, "Does anyone else have any questions?" The correct answer is "No". These became familiar phrases: You’re on mute. You’re still on mute. We can’t hear you. Can you unmute yourself? Or, you know you’re not on mute, right? And the most horrifying: Do you know your camera is on? Talking to you there, Jeffrey Toobin.

Everyone’s mental health has suffered, to varying degrees. We all knew remote learning is a poor substitute for in person class, no one needed to go through the experience to prove that point, yet so many teachers and students had to suffer through it all.

We’ve all binge watched something. Thanks to Netflix, Hulu, Amazon Prime and other platforms for cranking out some great shows and some unbelievably trashy stuff to while away the days, months and nearly a year at this point. I couldn’t make it through Tiger King, but 90 Day Fiancé amused me endlessly. Fun fact - Netflix is unavailable in only three countries and one ‘area’ - China, North Korea, Syria and Crimea. 

People lost jobs. Others lost businesses. Many lost friends and family members. And here we are, nearly a year into this tragedy that the U.S. has so magnificently bungled.

You’ve either been locked down by yourself or with your family. I heard on a podcast that if you’ve been by yourself, you’ve longed for someone to be locked down with and if you’ve been with your family, you have fantasized about being by yourself. More than once, Gwyne and I have played the game of, “Why do you do it like that?” Hint. There are no winners in this game. 

Then there’s the separation. Grandparents, parents, children, grand children, brothers, friends, well you get the idea. People haven’t been able to be in person with their people. To touch them. To hug them. Touch is important, and that’s something we’ve all been deprived of, in one way or another. 

Masks. We’re all wearing them. Who thought masks could be such a conversation starter? Where did you get that mask? Nice mask! Ooof. I forgot my mask. Here’s my favorite. Thanks Andrea!

There’s also going to be some horrifying knock on effects. 45 states and DC have balanced budget requirements. Every state has lost tax revenues from businesses being shut down - all the restaurants, hotels and car rentals, to mention but a few, well, they all generate taxes that pay the salaries of police, firefighters, public transit workers and teachers. There is going to be a shortfall when it comes time for planning and submitting an annual budget. Without federal aid there will be massive cuts. How about the rent moratorium? Rent has been paused. It's been adding up, month after month, after month. How are folks going to pay the enormous sums due when it comes time to pay?

I’ve lived through the 60’s, the 70’s the 80’s the 90’s, the noughties, the teens and January, February, March, April, May, June, July, August, September, October, November and December of 2020. Every damn month of 2020, some of which seemed like an effin decade. Let’s throw in January and February of 2021 as well, why not?

But there is hope on the horizon. Spring is coming. It’s my favorite season. I love the sensation of rebirth and rejuvenation. The days (if you live in North America) are getting longer. It is (thankfully) warming up and I can put on a pair of shorts and get on my bike again. There are tiny buds on Maple trees. I saw a dandelion the other day.

The number of new infections, hospitalizations are trending down in the U.S. and worldwide. There are vaccines available to some demographics, with more availability to come in the near future.  I was one of 45,000 that participated in the Johnson & Johnson phase 3 trial of their vaccine. I don’t know whether I received a shot of salt water or the vaccine. If it’s approved next week, the study provider will unblind me. If I got the saline, they’ll cross me over and give me the goods. Sometime later this year, I think there’s going to be a semblance of normalcy. 

The other day, I put my big toe outside our front door, testing the weather to see if it was tolerable enough for another boring walk. It was, so I peeked out just a little more and saw this.

I sent that to my family and my brother just said, "It's a new day." That's how I've been feeling the last few weeks. Every day, closer whatever the new normal is going to be. Every day, one step closer to visiting friends, going to a restaurant and unfettered travel. Hang in there folks, we're getting there. 

Sizes

     Clothing sizes are funny. How we think about them are even funnier. 

    Act 1: Way back in once upon a time time, my wife, daughter and her friend were tooling around SE Asia on holiday. At the time, I was working as a teacher in Saipan and men in Micronesia don't wear shorts except to go fishing or work on the farm. Long pants (w/zori) were de rigueur for pretty much any other situation. We were in Kota Bharu, Malaysia and I went into a department store to see if I could get a good deal on a pair of slacks, taking advantage of the currency exchange. I found a pair that struck my fancy and wanted to try them on. They were sized S, M, L and XL. Because I'm not a particularly large fellow, I took the M into the changing room. Oof. Not even close. Okay, I thought, let's move up to the L size. Again, oof. I'm 5'10" and weigh in at 158 today. I was a few pounds lighter way back then. L's were too tight. The XL's were a fit, and that's what I wound up walking out of the store with. That and a bit of wounded pride.  

    Act 2: Fast forward more than a few years, I was in Bangkok getting a few suits made. My tailor took my measurements and read them off. When he said, "Waist, 33 inches," I said, "Hold on, I'm a 32." He replied, "You know the numbers on clothing made for Westerners aren't accurate. When you measure the actual waistband, it's actually 1 - 2" longer than the number. Oof again. What size we are is all in our heads. I was getting trousers that were a 33". But hang on there, I'm not a 33, damn it, I'm a 32" waist. Because it was a bespoke suit, the number - that was just one more than the number in my head (where I sometimes live), wasn't included anywhere on the pants. That took away some of the sting.

    Act 3: Another time I was in Bangkok, I saw leggings for sale outside the Skytrain. Those pinkish leggings say XXXL. We currently live in Alabama. We do have XXXL citizens in Alabama but none of them could fit into Thai XXXL leggings. 

    Act 4: Sizes. They're funny things. And again, how we think of them are funnier. When I was in Kwajalein last year, I bought a grey, fleece like hoodie off Amazon to keep me warm in my well chilled room. I got a medium. I was FaceTiming Celine one day (whilst wearing the hoodie) and she quickly said, with obvious displeasure, "What is that you're wearing? You look ridiculous!" The medium was short and tight. It did not fit well, but it kept me warm. I told her I don't wear it outside my room and she seemed somewhat relieved. But I had a trip planned to Maui and the very next day, she FaceTimed me again. From Costco. She was showing me two light jackets, one in blue, one in black and said, "I'd like to get one of these for you. Which color would you like? I'll get you a large." It was clear. Come to Maui. I'll have a jacket for you. Leave the hideous, tight fitting grey thing behind. Please. I know people here. 

    Grand finale: Celine just moved to Huntsville. Before she came here, she asked me if there was anything I'd like from Honolua. I said, "Yeah, maybe a hoodie. Something warm and cozy." She sent me a few texts of choices. I made mine, she bought it and didn't ask me about the size. She wore it on the flights she took from Maui and yesterday, when it was chilly, I said, "Hey, where's that hoodie? It's cold!" She had just washed and dried it and it was so delightfully warm. And cozy. Just like I asked. And it's a large. Some larges are larger than others. And longer. This goes to mid thigh. I think it looks just as ridiculous as the tight fitting medium. But thank you for the kind gesture and here's to the next chapter in your life.

    Bonus fact 'o the day for getting to the end of this silliness and total non-sequitur: The first U.S. Vice President of color is NOT Kamala Harris. It was Charles Curtis. He was Herbert Hoover's VP and was a biracial Native American, a member of the Kaw Nation.

You can have half

      It was around Thanksgiving in Kauai, 2010. Gwyne had been at a work party that I managed to avoid because I’m not particularly fond of forced fun. Also, Gwyne is a FOMO’s FOMO (Fear Of Missing Out) and I’m a committed  member of team JOMO (Joy Of Missing Out). I was at the beach and when I came home I discovered two equally sized pumpkin desserts on the counter with a note, “You can have half.” So I did. What is half? 50%, right? That’s what I think. But the devil, oh that rascally devil, is in the details.

     When Gwyne came home, she lost it. Because I dutifully followed her directions and had my half. The two *equally sized* pumpkin  desserts were pumpkin pie and pumpkin crunch. So I ate my half. I ate the pumpkin crunch. Gwyne was not pleased nor amused. She said, “I said you could have half! Half of the pumpkin pie and half of the pumpkin crunch.” For those of you who don’t know Gwyne well, she is a bit more emotive than I am. Okay, maybe more than a bit. I said, in what seemed to be an enragingly calm voice, “I had half. There were two desserts. They were the same size. They were both comprised mostly of pumpkin. 50% is 50%.” 

     And we were off! At work the next day, we looked for allies to try to support our competing narratives, of which I still contend is the simplest of simple fractional problems. Don’t let emotions get in the way of the facts. I would frame my question much like the above, if there are two equally sized pumpkin flavored desserts and someone says you can half, does it matter which half you have? Oh, those devilish details. Gwyne would work her crowd and say, “IF there was a pumpkin PIE cut in a triangular slice AND a square pumpkin CRUNCH and someone says you can have half of what are obviously two very, very different desserts, what does that mean to you?” Overwhelmingly, over the years when we pose the question to friends and family, I’ve come out on the losing end. And I get it. Math is tough for some folks.

     Happy Thanksgiving to all and be safe.  

     

Bill

     I took a road trip to Louisiana and I'm not a big fan of driving. Seven + hours, so  I plotted a route along state highways (as opposed to interstates) because I also don't like high speeds and I prefer to stop along the way to see the towns, ville's and burgs and wonder how and why they were established. On this trip, I also tried to puzzle out why they were still there. I explored a few Mississippi Delta towns - Leland, Greenwood and Marks. I know the Blues originated there, and by the looks of the abandoned buildings or dwellings that shouldn't have had people living in them but obviously did, they have a whole lot more to be blue about.

Marks, Mississippi

There were unexpected sights as well. Driving through Europa, MS, as I crested a hill, I saw a cross so enormous I blurted out, "Jesus Christ!" That may not have been the reaction whoever put it up was going for, but there you have it. 

     To help with any anxiety about driving on the way down, I issued a fatwa on the news and just listened to 60's and 70's music. Side note: I rarely listen to music. It worked. I drove part of the way on the Natchez Trace Parkway, a beautiful 444 mile long national parkway that was perfect for loud singing and the occasional juke and head nod. It was perfect because it's so isolated and no one should be subjected to seeing my stunning lack of rhythm, even driving by.  

     The purpose of the road trip was to visit Bill, who I've known since we were four. I called and we compared our safety protocols, always masked up, minimal contact with people outside of our bubble, lots of hand washing and sanitizing so we decided a visit was okay, as long as we continued to be safe. Our lives have some remarkable intersections; Kwajalein, college in Texas, road trips to Mexico, grad school in Hawaii, teaching on outer islands in the Marshalls and visits to Thailand where he lived for 20 years, to name but a few. Despite the many similarities in life, we are very different people.

     We've had a long standing disagreement over the word zori. For the record, zori is both singular and plural. Bill calls them zoris. The spellcheck in blogspot auto corrected zoris to loris btw. Shortly after my arrival, he said, "Let's go take a walk to see the horses." I replied, "Let me get my zori." His response? "Better bring both of them, it's kind of muddy over there." And we're off! We laughed and laughed and laughed, sometimes over past misadventures, other times over our views of life. Bill is a Luddite and revels in the simplicities of life. He still writes letters and uses a paper map when he travels. He boils water in the morning to pour over his ground coffee in a carafe.

Coffee maker. 

I love technology and convenience. I'm looking forward to the new iPhone, love Apple CarPlay in our car and a Keurig is the only way to go first thing in the morning. Bill loves nature and hiking in remote places, I think the outdoors is over rated and am happiest in a city or town where I can walk to a store and buy what I need. When Bill's dad died last year, he gave him his iPhone (6s, 16 gb) and told him to use the damn thing. Bill had resisted getting a smart phone because, well, he's Bill. We laughed about that some more. My Siri has a female Indian voice and calls me Honey. He doesn't call his Siri, he says it's Ian and his has a male South African voice. We're different, and that's okay. We spent time noodling around on ukulele and guitar, singing old songs, laughing and reflecting on getting older. Old people issues. On a road trip to Arkansas, I asked Bill how his hearing was. Because we know each other so well, he asked, "You didn't hear what I just said, did you?" I said, "Well, I heard bits and pieces," and then recounted what I thought he had said. He said, "I'll speak up when I'm driving." Cue more laughter. Both of us are very grateful to have made it to 60 because so many of our family members and friends didn't make it to that milestone. There was so much more (much of it unpublishable) but we ended with this. Bill is more Bill than ever and I'm more me than ever. We are both completely predictable and completely happy and at peace with who we are and where we are in life. And that's a joyful thing.

Worth the trip. 

SBA

      I visited my parents last week. They live in Santa Barbara, we live in Huntsville, AL. So I flew because I loathe driving anywhere more than 15 minutes away and if there is any angle in the frequent flyer/airline status game, I play. Hard. Flying was okay, everyone was masked up from terminal to terminal. On the way back, I noticed more people wearing both masks and face shields. I even saw one couple with a mask, face shield and full on Tyvek HAZMAT gear, for the win! There were a few mavericky mavericks who were clearly wearing their masks below their noses to show either ignorance or their rugged individualism, but 99.8 of people put on their big boy/girl pants and enjoyed the smell of their own breath for a few hours.

     We had some serious discussions, the standard talks about death, some questions about their early life and wondering about what the hell the future holds, for everyone. There was also lots and lots and lots of laughter. 'Cause that's just how we roll.  

     If you are fortunate enough to have parents in their 80's, here is the lay of the land for what may await you on a visit when they reach that milestone:

    1. Their hearing will probably be diminished. If they are not wearing their hearing aid(s), you have to look at them when you speak and TALK LOUDLY.

    2. Their diet will likely have changed. My parents had enough food for breakfast and 2 dinners, but after that, if I didn't want to eat stewed prunes, pitted prunes, bran, high fiber cereal or Greek yoghurt, well then I had to make a trip to Trader Joe's for some food that won't send you trotting to the toilet. 

     3. You may find artifacts in their house like landlines, large calculators and radios. They have a radio in every room in the house. One in the garage too. They also think they're kind of hip because their answering machines are cordless phones that have caller id. They do have an iPhone and iPad though.

     4. You will be their de facto IT representative. Just imagine them speaking into their cordless phone, stating repeatedly, "Representative, representative, representative, re-pre-sen-ta-tive, I WANT TO SPEAK TO A REPRESENTATIVE." That representative will be you, my friend. If I am fortunate enough to make it to my 80's, I'm sure I'll need some young 60 year old to help me with my tech needs too.

The laughter? There was plenty of it. We relived some old memories, like the time my mom bought a box of ice cream sandwiches and within 20 minutes, they were all gone. She came out of the kitchen, completely exasperated, and said, "I JUST bought the large size box, how is it possible that they are all gone so quickly?" Slowly, my two brothers and I and then my dad fessed up to secreting some away in the freezer so we'd have some for later. Food, and particularly treats, went quickly in our house. The kicker was when my mom said, "I see you haven't found the one I hid for myself...yet." And on this trip, my dad and I were sitting out on the grass behind their condo, talking about anything and everything, watching the birds and he tugged on his jeans and said, "You know, I've had these dungarees for about 20 years." I turned my head slowly and said, "Dungarees?" The etymology of dungaree comes from Hindi, dungri in the early 1600's, and later came to be used in the mid to late 1800's as something worn by sailors. But the last time it was used in regular conversation in the U.S. was probably in the 1940's, I'd guess. I said, "They're called jeans these days. I don't think you can walk into a store and say, I'm looking for a new pair of dungarees. Where's the dungaree section?" Later on in the day, he put on another pair of jeans. He said they were my mom's old jeans. I said, "Paradoxically,  jeans that look just like that are called...Mom jeans." 

     I've been coming to Santa Barbara for the last 35+ years regularly and always like to see what's different since my last visit. I’d usually stroll along State Street and downtown or take lovely bike rides down Hollister Avenue on the bike paths to the Marina, it's all so picturesque. There's always something that's still comfortingly the same and always so many things that have changed. But this was not a trip along Santa Barbara memory lane. This time, I only went to Trader Joes for younger people food and took walks out to More Mesa and down to the beach in the early morning during weekdays when I could avoid people. And that's okay.

     We spent a fair amount of time on the patio, whiling away the days, sometimes reading quotes and talking about what they meant to us, other times, just reading or talking about their youth - and mine - and the (mostly fortuitous) twists and turns of life we took that helped us land where we are now. 

     If your parents ask you to come for a visit, you should go, if you can. I did and it was soooo worth it. I hope I can do it again soon.

Joginder

     I got a WhatsApp message from a friend a few days ago asking why I hadn’t been writing anything and I told her I’ve just been overwhelmed with...everything. I have very little to whinge about - family, health, relationships, finances - all good. But I've not found much elsewhere in the world recently to resemble anything that might evoke a twinge of a rainbow unicorn like feeling. In January, all of Australia seemed to be on fire. Then COVID-19 broke out in China and slowly spread. Much of the world went into some form of lockdown/quarantine, some more successfully more than others. Want some good news? The EU is opening up! If you're from Algeria, Morocco, Serbia, Montenegro or Rwanda or one of 9 other countries, you can travel to the EU. But, because some rugged individualists in the U.S. can't seem to wash their hands, socially distance and wear a damn mask and don't seem to want contact tracing, well, we're not on the safe country list. No travel for us! Then there was the recent spate of police violence. Ahmaud Arbery. Breonna Taylor. George Floyd. BLM. Seems like nothing has changed since 1992 when Rodney King said, “Can’t we all just get along?” In other news, locust plagues in East Africa threaten food security for millions, a fourth generation (and that's still just in this year) is on the way. The (necessary) trillions that the Fed and Treasury have flooded consumers and business with, along with the already high trillion dollar+ deficit and 22 trillion+ dollar debt will all have to be paid back sometime, somehow.  It’s been a no good, horrible, very bad year so far. And we’re just halfway through it. So I think and worry about it all. About people who have lost their jobs and businesses that won't be coming back. About people who don't have a familial safety net or transferable skills. About lines, miles long for people waiting for distributions from food banks. In the United States. The uncertainty of it all is unnerving and depressing.
     And then I got an e-mail from a colleague in Afghanistan, Joginder. He and his wife had just had their second child. They were thrilled. There was some hope, some happiness in the world. I felt as if the tip (just the tip, mind you) of a rainbow unicorn's horn had poked out from behind some of the nasty, dark clouds that so far have been emblematic of the year 2020.

     Joginder was always a joy to talk with. He has a PhD in political science, so many of our discussions trended in that direction. There was no subject off limits - arranged marriages in India, Indra Modi, Donald Trump, the aadhaar system to track citizens in India, Republicans and Democrats, value systems, religious and racial tolerance in multicultural countries (mostly India and the U.S. though) and how/what/why a government should function and provide for their citizenry. Not the type of chats you can have with the typical employee in Afghanistan, and I was always very grateful to have these talks with Joginder after work. Okay, sometimes during work too. He seemed to be well versed in so many different areas. But I was so very pleased to hear of his happiness that gave me a fleeting glimpse of the tip of a rainbow-unicorn's horn. So here’s to hoping everyone has some more safety and contentment in life and sees a little bit more of a rainbow unicorn - than just the tip of the horn -  in their future.