Fishing (Again)

My Dad, Frank, was an avid fisherman.  Even though he worked fifty or sixty hours a week, he still found time to go to one of the local fishing spots for a couple of hours.   He frequently returned empty-handed, sometimes because he threw back little ones and sometimes because he threw back keepers.   Although he was a fan of catching fish, he was not fond of eating them.   But the truth is, he just liked some solitary time walking along the edge of Lake Saltenstall or one of the other lakes within a half hour of home.  It was natural, then that I became a fisherman at first with Dad to show me how.   Sometimes we’d rent a rowboat and fish the shores of the big lake at Saltenstall.  Other times we’d fish the streams at Chatfield Hollow, or a lake in Guilford where his boss let us use his boat. Incidentally, one evening in 1952, Dad landed the largest bass caught in Connecticut that year, an 11 pound beauty.  Opening day was special … we’d rise early and stop for breakfast at the New Idea Diner, then head to Chatfield Hollow to compete with the dozens of anglers fishing for trout.   Beginners, my Dad called them, some of them idiots.   One particularly cold spring, I lost my footing on a slippery rock ans sat down in the brook.   My hip boots filled with freezing cold water, which my Dad thought was hysterical.   Looking back, it was … but at the time, not so much.

Meet Tyson

Yesterday, we picked up my new feline pal from his foster home. His name is Tyson and you might say he is a long distance rescue. When we lost my friend Claude to cancer last August, we decided it made sense to wait until we move to Utah before I found another kitty. I continued to work at the Cats in Need Rescue in Yorba Linda to get my kitty-time and even met a few new cats I’d have brought home, but I waited. You might say I mostly waited because I discovered a website, Petfinder, that allows you to search for pets to rescue in most cities. And so I began to search in the Greater Salt Lake area, where we were moving in December. It was mostly just for fun and to discover where there were rescues I might visit after we moved. That is until early November when I came across Tyson at the Friends of Community – Cat Rescue (FOCCR) in the Salt Lake suburb of Centerville. This was his profile.

Music Hopping

Now that I am semi-retired, I have plenty of time for unproductive activities like word games on my tablet, texting with friends and sitting around doing nothing with my cat, Claude.   And Music Hopping.  Don’t look it up.  You won’t find it.

Music Hopping (v.): randomly searching through a music library or source and playing whatever strikes your fancy.

My latest Music Hop (n. – The act of Music Hopping) started two night’s ago when , on the recommendation of a friend, I watched The Terry Kath Experience, about the founder of Chicago (my favorite rock horn group) on YouTube.   As it is prone to do, YouTube was happy to recommend other musical documentaries, including performances from Woodstock by Santana (my favorite rock guitarist) and Crosby, Stills, and Nash.   That led me to the documentary, Legends – Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young (The best rock harmonies on the planet.  Ever).   Even after years of listening, Suite Judy Blue Eyes still astonishes me.

Rainy Ramble

It’s been a long time since I’ve done a Ramble here on Older Eyes – Buds Blog. In case you haven’t been around here long (who has these days), a Ramble is a post I write when I want to post but have nothing in particular to say. Or sometimes … like today …when there are serious topics I don’t feel like writing about right now. It is raining here in Socal, heavy rains predicted through tomorrow. The locaL news here treats every incoming rain storm like a major event but there is some cause this year … the possibility of mudslides in areas affected by the fires last summer, including Anaheim Hills where Mr. and Mrs. Eyes live. Mandatory evacuations have been issued in nearby Corona and voluntary ones a five minute walk away from our house. We are about a block from the fire line so we will probably not be evacuated. I am sitting in my car in the park. Yes, my phone is on so I can get any evacuation news.

Travels with Britta and Barney

Last week, Muri and I traveled to Florida to spend the week on Siesta Key with our good friends, Britta and Barney.  Let me say at this point that Britta has no use for social media, not even high class literary social media like Older Eyes- Bud’s Blog.  Hence, in the interest of preserving a very long friendship, Britta is a pseudonym, as is Barney.  They had rented a small cottage near the beach and invited us to join them and their two dogs, Keppah and Kishka.  Also pseudonyms.  Kishka isn’t fond of social media either.  Because Britta and Barney live on the East Coast (in an undisclosed location), we see them only occasionally.

One More Sunset

One of the best things about our time spent in our Little House in the Desert has been watching the desert sunsets from our patio, which looked over the San Tan Mountains.   Last night, Arizona offered me one more sunset before we leave for good.  As always, my camera was nearby and I recorded it to share with you.  It is a fitting farewell, I think.

Twilight

Yesterday, before I went to my Thursday Night Men’s Meeting, I decided to take a walk in the park.  I have been maintaining about 8,000 steps a day since I got a Fitbit for Christmas … it was really just what I needed to remind me to get out and walk.  At this point in my life, remembering to walk has a double, even triple benefit.  For one, I usually listen to music while I walk and any day I listen to music is a better day than one with no music.  And I usually bring my camera on my walks, giving me an opportunity to get the creative juices flowing.   I reached the park just as the sky was beginning to fade from cobalt to pastel blue and wisps of pink were collecting along the horizon.   I’ve always found twilight to be the most peaceful time of the day … and perhaps the most photogenic.

The Wrong Girl

Perhaps the high point of our visit to Utah last week was getting to see our granddaughter, Savannah … aka Savy … perform with her cheer squad, the Elite Academy Heat.  The competition was held in the massive Salt Palace in downtown Salt Lake on a huge, multimedia stage in a room as large as an airplane hangar.  The official word was that no video taping was allowed but can anyone really prevent parents from video recording their kids in an age when nearly every device can record videos?   Before each performance, a group of parents from the team performing would make its way to the front of the stage to take pictures and videos.  I decided to do the same for Savy’s. I’d brought my Panasonic Lumix camera, which takes very good videos and offers the choice of a viewfinder or the view screen as a means of seeing what I’m recording.  As Savy’s team was announced, I moved to the edge of the stage and decided to use the viewfinder because that usually allows me to hold the camera more steady (at the expense of a tiny-tiny image).

Departure Day

Yesterday was Departure Day for our eleven day visit with our daughter, son-in-law and three grandkids.  That is the most time we have ever spent under their roof, which to some may not seem like a big deal, but for my wife, Muri, and I it was.  We are a strong-willed bunch, from the the oldest (that would be moi) to the youngest (that would be sweet but strong-willed Savy girl).  Muri and I have always needed alone time (that would be quiet alone time) even from each other, a need that seems to get greater as we age.  That is hard to come by in a house with three beautiful, rambunctious and chatty children, not to mention their chatty mother.  And we all know how seniors love their routines, don’t we?  And how they get grouchy when their routines are interrupted or unavailable.  So, in spite of how anxious we were to see those grandkids, we approached the week with some trepidation.  Did my daughter and son-in-law felt the same way?  You’ll have to ask them.

Happy Now

I am sitting at the kitchen table in my daughter’s house in Herriman, UT.   Through the window in front of me, I can see an early spring snow flurry lightly coating the back lawn with white.  My daughter just got home from work, stylish and beautiful (much more so that she believes, but isn’t that true of many of us?).   I’ve been sitting here, writing and emailing friends for a couple of hours.  I am at peace.  I am happy.  It is all too rarely that I stop to acknowledge that kind of happiness, simply being in a place I want to be, doing what I enjoy doing.  Too often, I want the Capital H Happy.   You know.   Everything is going well, the future looks bright and, by the way, any unhappiness from the past is resolved, forgiven or forgotten.