Last Day in St. Augustine

Today was our last trolley ride. Again we split up. I went to the Fountain of Youth and spent about an hour exploring the area and drinking water from the fountain. So far I haven't noticed myself getting any younger, but I guess it might take a few hours.

I hooked up with Tom and the kids on St. George Street which is the street where the City Gates are located. The street itself is full of shops and artsy areas. Beth and Mary Anne were off visiting the older houses in St. Augustine. Eventually, we all met up with Roger back at the Trolley Station.

Then we headed off to take the clan to Osteen's where we indulged in fried shrimp, hushpuppies, and sweet tea. No better way to end a vacation!

Day 3 - The Alligator Farm

When I was a child our family visited St. Augustine with our friends, the Smiths. We went to the fort, Marineland, and the Alligator Farm. I haven't been back to the Farm since then so I was eager to relive my childhood by heading back there. Of course, the kids were interested.

We went there first today. The grandparents opted out and toured Flager College instead. The alligator farm is now a zoological park. It opened in 1893 and is listed on the National Register of Historic Places. They have over 23 different species of crocodiles along with the hundreds upon hundreds of alligators. I have never in my life seen that many gators in one place. The alligators first were collected from Anastasia Island. It was a great tourist attraction for all of the people coming to the beach.

We sort of broke off into small groups to explore the place. At one point I got left behind while I was watching a movie about the first mammoth alligator at the farm. I walked out by myself to follow the trail to the feeding exhibit. To get there I had to walk across this huge winding alligator swamp.

A sign at the beginning told me to walk slowly and not hold or lean over the railings as it was a natural preserve and the birds could and would land. I started walking and it got swampier and swampier, and I was the only one on the wooden walkway across the swamp.....except for the hundreds of alligators swimming the swamp and sunning on the banks. It was the creepiest feeling. I started counting alligators and hoped they would not jump into my pathway. I stopped counting at 123 alligators. Ugh!

At noon the Alligator Lagoon, the one thing I remembered about the farm from my youth, held a feeding demonstration. I wish I knew how to put on a video on this blog because the feeding was amazing. I don't know how this zookeeper woman could even step foot into this pit of gators, but she did, armed with a stick and a bucket of giant rats or possum. These she fed to the hungry gators while she made them walk toward her and open their massive jaws.

As we started out of the park it began to pour. We hung out in the gift shop (of course) for it to let up some and then we headed into the city where we got back on our friendly trolley. We explored Flager College, The Flagler Memorial Church which Flager built in memory of his daughter, the Hotel Alcazar, and the Old Drugstore We got so that we could recite the tour around town. The rain came and went and the trolley drivers gave us all rain ponchos. By the end of the day, we were soaked from the waist down.

We ended the day with a seafood dinner and beer at a place on the beach. A nice day despite the rain. I hope I don't have alligator dreams.

Day 2 - St. Augustine

Last night we all hiked across the road to the beach and spent a couple of hours riding the waves in the Atlantic Ocean. We had dinner at Cowboys, a St. Augustine staple, and finished the night with cards and the Olympics.

This morning we ate the breakfast provided in our motel room and headed into town. I have convinced everyone that we should park at the trolley station and pay to ride the trolley around town where we can get off and on at points of interest. Our tickets are good for the next three days.

We spent the day exploring places of interest. We started at the Old Jail where the tour guide, dressed for the part, took us through as if we were prisoners. She was a hoot. I loved her. At one point she made all of the women and girls pile into this tiny cell with one bunk bed where she explained that this was where we would live and sleep. She pointed out that the window only had bars on it and nothing else.

In the summer there would be heat and bugs. In the winter it could get a "might chilly", but we could cover ourselves with that thin blanket there on the bunk. The good thing about the open window was that we could use it to empty out the potty bucket, but we had to be careful that it didn't splash back on us. The whole time we were in there elbow to elbow we were cutting up. One woman yelled, "I'm innocent. It wasn't me!" But the longer we stood there listening to the guide the harder it got and I was quite thankful I wasn't really a prisoner.

Another place we visited was the Florida Heritage Museum which took us back 400 years and featured displays of the countries that ruled St. Augustine. Of course, we ended up in the gift shop where the kids spent more time sightseeing there then they did in the museum. Darcy and Michael each purchased a pair of handcuffs. That's a tad disconcerting.

We rode the trolley around the city to get our bearings and to try and decide where to get off and explore. We had lunch and ice cream at a small eatery in front of one of the stops. We ended the day by touring Castillo de San Marcos, which I blogged about earlier in the summer.

Back at the hotel we changed and went to the beach. We got into the water to frolic, but it started raining. We ignored it and continued to play for about a half an hour. Then the rain came down in sheets and we ran to help Beth gather up our belongs. The rain stung and Tom was hopping up and down and dancing like he could avoid the drops all the while shouting, "Ow! Ow! That hurts!"

I looked over at Madison who had her wave board over her head and I noticed small drops of ice. It was hailing! We took off running, laughing all the way. Some Floridians we are.

On the Road Again

For the next four days, the girls and I are doing something different.....we are going on a vacation with their father!

Nothing else about the vacation is different. We are once again heading to the other coast with family. Our destination is St. Augustine Beach and this time we are traveling with Tom's side of the family.

Tom's sister, Beth, lives in Chicago. Each summer she and her two boys, Mark and Teddy (13 and 11), come to Florida to visit the grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins. Beth likes to take a side trip somewhere (we have the same educational vacation philosophy) and this time she chose the east coast of Florida and asked us to tag along.

With some gentle nudging by me, she settled on St. Augustine and so with two cars packed to the roof with kids, luggage and snacks we are off!

10:00 AM - We are a half an hour off schedule and I'm blaming it on the following phone call:

Me: "Hello?"

Mark: "Uh, um, well, um, uh....."

Silence

Mark: "Where are you?"

Me: "I'm exactly where you called me."

Mark (giggling): "Oh, um, well, uh... Who is this?"

Me: "Betty Jean"

Mark: "Oh, uh..."

Me: "What do you mean who is this? It's Aunt Cara, Mark, and you called my house so I'm at home. We are heading out the door right now. What do you need?"

And then the rest of the phone call continued in a normal conversation - something about charging iPods. And thus we were thrown off our schedule.

10:30 AM - We have reached the grandparents' house where we will pick up Mark and Teddy as well as Michael, Tom's sister, Julie's son. Julie has opted not to join us as she would have to bring one-year-old Brea and that wouldn't be a vacation....for any of us.

11:00 AM - The boys are ready to go, and after visiting the bathroom we leave Beth and her parents (who will come in the second car) and head down the road.

Unfortunately, we got one minute down the road and I realized I had left my purse at the grandparents' house. Tom turned and headed back keeping a running commentary about how stupid it had been to take my purse into the house, how we were only in there 5 minutes and it would have been safe in the car, etc.

I finally shut him up by telling him I took the purse in the bathroom with me in case I needed feminine products. It wasn't true, but it always works to shut up men. He snapped his mouth closed.

11:15 AM - Back on the road.

12:30 PM - I'm hungry. I have devoured the Sunday paper sometimes reading aloud to Tom. The kids are busy with electronic devices. In the middle row are Madison and Mark who are on a Nintendo DS. In the back row, are the other three who are singing loudly to the Chipmunks on a battery operated iHome.

We pull off and head into a McDonald's substation attached to a gas station. No one argues about our choice of restaurants so we exit the car and go in. It is a fairly decent size place, clean and deserted. We do the bathroom thing again, order, eat and are back in the car again in about 40 minutes.

3:00 PM - We have arrived at our destination. The kids are playing a board game in our room. Tom is across the street exploring the beach. The others are in their rooms eating. I am going through the tour book I found in the room and I'm circling points of interest that I'm sure I'll never see as a group as large as this one won't be able to agree on anything....oops, did I say that?

Just Another Typical Day In My Life

Today the girls and I went north 30 minutes for a doctor's appointment. After the visit we shopped at the nearby mall, had lunch, ordered some Starbucks (the girls had iced drinks, no coffee) and headed home. I had been driving about 5 minutes and was on a busy street (a street that, along with another street, made the #1 most dangerous intersection in the US list) about 2 car lengths from an intersection when my van died. Just stopped. Dead. In the middle of the center lane.

The light at the intersection was red at the moment, and I tried to restart my car. Nothing. I tried again. I like to think I was calm and rational. Usually in these situations, and unfortunately there have been a few, I panic. Remembering this, I took a deep breath, set down my peppermint mocha thousand-calories-that-I-don’t-need Starbucks coffee and tried one more time to start my car.

No, go. On the dashboard, a picture of a red oil can with a drop of oil coming from its spout lit up. I assumed that meant my van had an oil problem. I shut off the car and was stranded in the middle of a four-lane road a foot from an intersection…with two children.

Then I panicked. A little. I yelled, “Why is this happening? What do I do? What do I do? AAAAHHHH!” Talking to myself. A little pep talk if you will.

Then I calmly reached for my cell phone and dialed 911 because I have been taught to do that in emergency situations, and in my mind, sitting in a stalled car with two children while cars raced around me in hopes of making the light at the intersection in front of me, constituted as an emergency.

The 911 operator was quite helpful. She asked me if I had been involved in an accident and when she heard that wasn't the case she told me to stay on the line and she connected me to the city police non-emergency number.

Non-Emergency Lady: How can I help you?

Me: My car just died in the middle of (named) Rd. at the intersection of (named) Rd.

Lady: Is that (named) Blvd. or Rd?

Me: (looking up at the sign hanging over the street) Road.

Lady: Is your car heading East or West on (named) Rd?

Me: I was heading West.

Lady: Are you East of (named) Rd. or West of (named) Rd?

Me: (in my head) Jesus Christ Lady, who the hell cares? I’m about to be hit in the rear so could we speed things up a bit?

Me: (aloud) I am East of (named) Rd.

Lady: Have you been involved in an accident?

Me: No. My car just died. I have two children with me and the smell of gas is overpowering. Perhaps I should get out of the car.

Lady: Yes, carefully vacate the vehicle. The police will be there shortly.

At some point in the middle of this conversation, a woman appeared at my window with a cell phone. I assume she was from the apartment complex next to the road, but I don’t know. She was bringing me a phone, and after seeing I had one she stayed there with me throughout my conversation. When I finished, she helped me get the girls out of the car and together we dodged the traffic and got safely to the sidewalk. Looking back at my van flashing its hazards and sitting sadly alone in the middle of the four-lane road, I noticed a huge stain slowly spreading its way out from underneath my van. A stain that smelled suspiciously like gasoline.

The kind lady left me after I told her I was calling my Motor Club to get towing. The girls perched themselves on top of the fence that lined the sidewalk while I searched frantically for my Motor Club card. My hands were shaking, but after three searches I could not locate the card in my wallet. I did the next best thing. I called my husband. When will I learn?

Tom: All of the insurance information is in the car.

Me: I just need the Motor Club number. I can’t find mine.

Tom: We don’t have that service anymore. Our insurance company has roadside assistance.

Me: Oh, that’s why I can’t find my card. Okay, well I’ll call the insurance company.

Tom: All that information is in the glove compartment in the van. Why would you get out of the van?

Me: Uh, because it is leaking something that smells like gas and is sitting in the middle of (named) Rd.

Tom: Yeah? So why would you get out of the van?

The conversation probably would have continued in this vein for hours, but a lawn care truck with three men in it offered to push my car off of the road and I hung up. They were in the left turn lane so two of the men jumped out and joined me on the sidewalk while the driver did a U-turn and parked in the lot of a BP station eight lanes over.

The guy in charge had one working eye and one eye that might have been working, but it was working in a different place from his other eye. When I told him the police were on the way he scoffed and rolled his good eye. The other eye continued looking at me.

Take charge guy wanted to know if one of my kids could get in the driver’s seat and steer across two lanes of traffic to the left lane and make a U-turn and then another turn into the BP station without the benefit of power steering. Uh, what? I wondered if I was suppose to be involved in the pushing of the van while my kid drove, but I didn't inquire. Instead I told him that wasn’t going to happen. He suggested I steer instead. I agreed.

At this point, take charge guy started out into the road. A car sped past him, narrowly missing his feet and he jumped back onto the sidewalk and told his partner, “You stop traffic.” His partner and I leaned out over the sidewalk and looked up the road at the cars racing toward the intersection. Neither of us said a word, but neither of us made any move toward taking him up on that suggestion.

Instead, we waited a few minutes, and when the light turned red, we left the girls and trudged out to the car. I got behind the wheel and they got behind the car, and we made it into the left turn lane despite cars honking and people throwing up their arms. We had to wait through a full cycle of lights before getting the green turn arrow, and with take charge guy yelling for me to, “turn, turn, turn,” we made the U-turn and rolled into the BP station. The smell of gas was so overpowering by this time that two customers walking into the store commented on it.

I didn’t have any money to give these guys, but take charge guy assured me that they were happy to help and they drove away. I then had to go to the crosswalk and walk the eight lanes back to my children. They met me in the middle, and we got safely back to the BP station and to the car. I called the insurance company. My husband arrived. The police did not. The tow truck company called me.

Tow truck person: It will be about 35 to 40 minutes as the driver has to stop and fill up on fuel.

Me: Okay.

TTP: What is the car doing right now?

Me: (looking over at my car) Uh, it is just sitting there. (begin laughing as I realize the absurdity of this conversation) Well, he isn't having tea with the car next to him!

TTP: (laughing) I guess I should have phrased that differently.

The absurdity of the day continued, but the van did get towed, and we did get home. I was furious that the police never showed up. I was so annoyed that I ranted and raved all the way home arguing with my husband, who thought dialing 911 was stupid because it wasn't a police situation. In fact at one point he told me I was lucky they hadn't shown up as they would have ticketed me! For driving a faulty car! What?

Our argument annoyed him so much that he called his office, the sheriff's office which is where 911 operates, and he asked a supervisor what the sheriff's procedure is on a citizen who has car trouble in the middle of the road. Guess what? The sheriff's office sends out a deputy who assists in calling a tow truck, helps get the car off of the road, and stays with the citizen until said tow truck arrives! That answer alone saved my day.

And the problem with the car? A broken gas filter. Who knows how many dollars of gasoline poured out on to the street while my van sat there. But all is well......for now.

Celebrate America

Several months ago before the school year ended, my daughter won 3rd place in a writing contest put on by the Association of Immigration Lawyers. She had to write an essay titled, "Why I'm Proud to Live in a Nation of Immigrants".

One of the awards was reading her essay at the US Citizenship and Immigration Services where over 400 immigrants, from 43 different countries, became United States citizens.

Her father and I got to attend, and it was one of the most amazing, emotional experiences in my life. To sit through the process was interesting, but to feel the joy and emotion in the room when these immigrants were pronounced citizens was indescribable. I spent most of the time in tears. It makes you really appreciate where you live. Gripe about the President and whine about the gas prices, but be thankful that you are able to do all of that.

Below is Madison's paper:

Why I am Proud to Live in a Nation of Immigrants

I am very proud to live in the United States, a nation of immigrants. We are known as the melting pot because people from all over the world come here to live. Living with immigrants is very interesting because we learn new cultures and meet different types of people, but mostly it means that we are a free country that welcomes everyone.

Having people from other countries live in our nation opens us up to other cultures. We experience new religions, recipes, and languages. More varieties of foods mean more restaurants and something new for dinner every night. More types of religions give us more to choose from, and learning other languages is not only helpful but fun.

I attend a school with kids whose parents were born in India, Puerto Rico, Greece, China, and Germany. From these classmates, I am exposed to other languages, different types of music and dance, clothing and different customs. I know more about the world around me because I can get answers to my questions directly from people who have experience in these different countries.

The United States was founded by immigrants from England. These were people who wanted to be free to live their lives the way they wanted, without restrictions. Today people are still coming to the United States for that reason, and our country welcomes them with open arms.

Every American is a descendant from someone who came from another country. For years immigrants have brought their religions, their customs, and their languages and merged them with our own. Together we learn from each other. Together we make up America. I am proud to be a part of the melting pot.

Practicing Good Hygiene

The family and its friends who brush together? Stay together!

The Loss of Innocence

Today I discussed the facts of life with my oldest daughter. She had just had her yearly physical and I thought that was as good an opening as any.

The public schools give the sex talk in 5th grade so her friends outside of her school learned it this year, and because this was the year she would get the talk at her own school, I figured I should give it now. Wouldn't she rather hear things from me first?

I didn't it right. I sucked. First, I did it while I was driving home from her physical. What possessed me to do it this way? When my mother gave me the talk she used some book she'd gotten. It was way over my head but she read it to me and then discussed the things she'd read. I had once used that same book when Madison asked me questions about babies. The book is totally too advance, but it would've been better than a discussion in the car. I kept looking at her in the review mirror and she just seemed so small, drawing her legs up as she does for protection.

She knew quite a bit, but most of it was clinical. We discussed sex, transmitting diseases, and drugs. Everything I could remember that was discussed in my sex education class. Although what I remember about that was mostly the kid vomiting after doing drugs or alcohol. It looked like spoiled milk coming out of her body and the boys imitated it on the walk home from the bus stop. Over and over.

Secondly, I went far overboard. I tried to get through to her that her body was hers and that no one had the right to do anything with her body unless she agreed to it. I got a little forceful on that topic. Why did I do it that way? It was very pro-female. She cried. She said she felt weird.

I stopped in the parking lot of Target and climbed in the backseat with her. I hugged her and tried to tone down the discussion and my forcefulness. I hated myself for doing it all wrong. She cried some more and when I asked her why she was crying she said, "Because you look so sad. You look like you're going to start crying."

Yep. Sorry, kid. I probably am and will. I screwed that up for sure, but mostly I'm sad because you're growing up and I have to have this talk in the first place. No one prepared me for my firstborn to become a woman.

I'll try to do it better with your sister.

Hugh Murphy 1924 - 2008

Today my friend Murph died.

I've been trying to think about what I want to say about him and all I keep seeing is a reel of moments in his life like you would see on a soap opera episode when the character is killed off and they show flashbacks of his time on the show set to music.

There is music in my Murphy reel, but for some reason, I can't hear it. I just know it is there.




It starts out with him sitting in his wheelchair in the front lobby of the rehab center where we would sit and talk while we waited for the van to pick him up to take him to his radiation treatments. From there the reel, like my slide show of pictures on my Picasa computer program, goes just slow enough to take in the scene, to remember when it actually happened. I see him coming into the lobby of the pool where I first met him 18 years ago. He is walking beside his bicycle, wheeling it in with him.

Murphy: "How ya doing, kid?"

He and the bike disappear through the men's room door out to the pool.

I see him in the deep end of the pool with his swim buoys. He is facing me and talking. Then he is back in the wheelchair upstairs in the rehab center yelling, "Cara, Baby!" I see him coming toward the deep end of the pool with his water cuffs on his ankles, his swim buoys in his hand, his gnarled toes scraping the pool deck as he walks. And then he is diving in, and I hear his imitation of Al Pacino in the movie, Scent of a Woman, his favorite thing to yell as he is sucked into the depths of the water, "Whoo-ah!"

I see him as he is in the picture above sitting in my backyard, and then he is gone, reappearing in the pool again. I see the back of his head and he water walks across the deep end, burping and then saying in a mocking way, "Excuse me, Cara."

I see him on the Pinellas trail riding his bike, waving as he goes by.

I see him in the pool with his flippers, lying face down as he swims freestyle from one end of the 25-meter pool to the other. Then he is at the end of the pool, looking up at me, pushing his wet hair out of his eyes.

Murphy: "How ya doing, kid?"

I see him outside in the courtyard of the rehab center, his forearms on the armrest of his wheelchair, his hands clasped, asking my daughter questions.

I see him reclining in his favorite chair at his house and then he is sitting next to me at the Mexican restaurant telling me this food will make me fat, eat up.

I see him through the mirror as he combs his hair in the bathroom at the rehab center. Then he is back in the pool on his back, spitting water up into the air like a whale. I see him on the couch in my living room letting my daughter put bows into his hair.

The pictures come a bit faster and I hear his voice as each memory flickers past:

"How's Tom?"

"Cara, can you hear me?"

"How are the kids?"

"You have a good memory, you know that?"

"You're right. Your always right, Cara."

"In my house, Nancy is the boss. Nan-nu!"

"Thanks for coming."

Then I see him out of the pool, his shoulders rounded, his towel around his neck, and he is pushing his bike and heading out the side gate at the pool, and as he passes me he thumps the lifeguard chair and I hear, "I'll see ya, kid. Take care." And then there is darkness.

And then the reel starts over again.

Our Indiana summer comes to an end

Cool Shoes....don't touch....oops
Originally uploaded by tcboos

The rest of our vacation was spent in Indiana at Susan's home. We did some shopping. We lounged at the country club where my brother runs the show. We watched some movies. We ATE all the time, mostly in restaurants. I wonder if I could name all the places I've eaten on this vacation. Hmmm....something to think about for future blogs.

On the drive to the airport to head back to Florida I asked everyone what they will miss and what they won't miss. Here it is:

What will you miss?

Susan: Always having another woman (Cara) to talk to and Gabby having a playmate 24/7. I'll miss Cara's pool and Kelly.

Cara: Gabby's opera singing and my little chipmunk friend.

Darcy: Gabby taking the covers off of me at night and me taking them back.

Madison: Everything

Gabby: Playing with Madison and Darcy. I'll miss the lizards and the hotness of Florida.

Austin: Aunt Cara's house


What will you not miss?

IMG_3457
Originally uploaded by tcboos

Susan: The girls arguing!

Cara: Eating at fast food restaurants every day.

Darcy: Itchy grass

Madison: The chance to fall down the stairs

Gabby: The lakehouse pool and mosquitoes....crying

Life at the Lake House

IMG_3416
Originally uploaded by tcboos

Every day at the lake house has been the same. We sleep late and awaken to an overcast and drippy morning. We have coffee and breakfast on the porch if the mosquitoes are busy elsewhere. We go somewhere just to get away. We eat out. We return to the lake house and stay up until the wee hours of the following morning.

We have ventured into the quaint village. It is a town the size of my fist with several restaurants, a dollar store, a grocery store, and several beach-themed tourist trap shops. For the most part, the merchants are open in the summer months and closed in the winter where they return to Chicago to wait for summer. Then they return and open up their shops. I suppose it's a nice life.

We have had breakfast, lunch, and dinner at almost every restaurant in town. We have purchased items from the tourist traps. We have brought home junk from the dollar store. We made it to the beach one evening after the rain had passed. The girls walked the shoreline and collected rocks and goodies. Susan and I sat in the sand and enjoyed the sunset while watching two teenagers bury their friend up to his neck in the sand. When they were done they stuck a cigarette in his mouth and lit it. Entertainment in Michigan.

One afternoon we drove into Michigan City and spent the day shopping at the outlets. We had a nice lunch at an Irish pub and an even better dinner later that evening.

On our last day, we forced ourselves out of bed, packed our swim bags and headed down the road a few miles to Warren Dunes State Park. There we swam in Lake Michigan, sunbathed under the elusive sun, picnicked at the eatery, and climbed (or attempted to) Tower Hill, the highest point in the park at 240 feet above the lake.

It was a nice day and a nice way to end the week in Michigan.