Today would have been Uncle Dick's 77th birthday (I'm pretty sure!). And he celebrated by watching from his sky box seat as the Sox beat Tampa Bay 13-5 IN Tampa Bay (finally), tying them for first place in the AL East. I always remember his birthday, and try to do something special to celebrate. Usually I'd make something for dinner that he liked. Grilled swordfish, or hamburger casserole...and always cold shrimp with cocktail sauce for starters. I celebrated it last year by writing about him. It was one of my first blogs. This is Unk with Alina during one of our home leave trips from Africa. We always had a great steak dinner at The Stockyard before going back. It's the handiest photo I have without going to the scanner.He's been gone almost 10 years now. Hard to believe. I also always remember the year of his death. We had moved to Mandeville Louisiana from Nigeria the summer before. Our first major hurricane back in the states, Hurricane Georges, came in September as Unk was spending his last days with my parents at our home near Boston, after a too short battle with pancreatic cancer. I had to wait for the airport to open to get a flight home. We were lucky with Georges, he took a quick right jog just before hitting New Orleans and a projected path right over our house. Biloxi took the hit. We had no power for 3 days, but were none the worse for wear. I liked to think Unk was looking out for us. His middle name was George.
We moved to Houston before Katrina.
This week is full of hurricane news again. This time in Houston, which I just left last summer. I'm seeing a pattern here. Last year, we dodged Rita, which took a quick jog just before hitting Galveston and a projected path right over our house. Unfortunately, Ike didn't take that jog. I'm hearing from friends, little by little, as their phones come back on, or they get some power, or they find a place with wifi. It's going to be a hot and sweaty week, but so far, everyone is safe.
When we lived in Houston the FIRST time, I worked in Galveston. When Hurricane Alicia hit as a cat 3 that hot summer of 1983, we bunkered down in our house in Missouri City, trying to sleep as the winds and rain pounded our little neighborhood. The damage to Galveston was unlike anything I'd ever seen. It was days before I could go to work, and weeks before we had power there at Fort Crockett. I saw Fort Crockett on the news the other day. It sits right behind that big San Luis hotel all the journalists and VIPs were staying at. It takes a pretty good punch, that old building. But I'd rather not go through all that again.
I'm not too superstitious, but there may be another factor besides Unk watching out for us. There was this rain god we bought at a shop in the middle of nowhere Tanzania. Lloyd had this drought thing following him since he left CA in 1977. Everywhere he went, he brought drought. So when we were in this shop, the guy told us it was a rain god, so we took it home with us. I'm thinking maybe it also kept dangerous hurricanes away from us. It has a special place on the wall by the front door in our mudroom. So here it is for all my friends in hurricane areas who don't have the spirit of Unk looking out for them. Copy it, print it out, put it on your fridge or something. It can't hurt!
3 comments:
Well, guess who this is? I was just thinking of you and how fortunate you were with all the really bad hurricanes and also the fact that it was Uncle Dick's birthday yesterday. Yes, he would have been 77, we went over to the grave and brought a lovely white begonia that had been on the back deck where he had spent his last, actually lovely, fall days. That was so lovely to read your memories of him. He was one terrific guy! and I am sure he us watching over all of us. Lots of love!!!
Wonderful tribute to your uncle. Your warmth, zest for life, and appreciation of family and nature are a joy to follow.
So inspired by your blogging the attractions in your neck of the Gorge, wife Abishag and I spent our 38th wedding anniversary at Inn At White Salmon, Room 204. As charming as you said, we gave it a 666 on our personal Pentecostal Scale of Joyous Carnality (656-666). Elegant, warm, and oddly cosmopolitan - with a magnificent view of Mt. Hood. Visited with an Aussie, happy Germans, and a dyspeptic Pentagon employee.
Another 666 to Wind River Cellars. Wonderful setting, well worth the jostling drive to the top. You gush so warmly of the owners we wanted to meet them. Had to settle for warm company of their professional wine pourer, who gently coaxed us thru enough sips we were enticed to purchase a Riesling and Pinot. Good stuff!
Down the hill to Husum Hoobah's to sample fish tacos and pulled pork sandwich. The receptionist was overly curmudgeonly at first, a Rotarian Babbitt, but eventually relaxed, retracted his claws and softened enough to qualify as a card-carrying Republican. The food was a 666, as was gracious John's guided tour of the medieval smoker out back. Actually, both owners were terrific hosts and we'd go back every night if our 401's weren't being so poorly mismanaged.
A charming character resembling Jerry Garcia's Mountain Girl appeared at our table on the porch, peddling mushrooms from secret, dark places on Mt. Adams, along with cucumbers and beans. She invited us to Husum Farmer's Market, shared tales of growing up in the area. Rita was her name. If you know her, please tell her how privileged we felt in her company. U2 should be on retainer for Chamber of Commerce there.
One night we excitedly appeared at your new brewpub. It was the Yoga Berra line: That place is so crowded nobody goes there anymore. We did tour the back deck area but the wait was too long and the snugness too snug for hammered geriatrics. We wandered over to the only other option...the Mexican restaurant. We were the only customers, right at quitting time. The food and prices were great, as was the young Hispanic waitress who bragged like you do of living in White Salmon. Great experience!
One 656 registered: We wanted to see the high school so we walked up to Methodist church, asking directions from strangers. Directions sketchy but we kept walking until we spotted the football field. Still no signs for WSHS. We walked past a sign for the Middle School, had to ask again where the hs was. Past maintenance buildings, buses, parking lot to he only sign with the name, Columbia High School, Home of the Bruins - small and located right at the front door.
Those kids and staff deserve better. I'm thinking when Cheney/Halliburton are through in Iraq, G-d might send them on another rebuilding mission. Or not.
Mordecai Ham
indicated When we finally found Finally a man hite Salmon High School. saw no signs
Mordecai,
Glad you like our 'little slice of Mediterranea', as Hooba would say. Also happy you got to meet WRC's 'runner up employee of the month' Ryan, and even got a private tour of the infamous smoker. John's so proud of that! The brewpub remains busy, we went the other night and sat with some Texas transplants, tried the nachos with shredded pork. Almost as good as Hooba's pulled pork...LaPlayita is an unsung hero in town, does a big lunch business, dinner, not so much. Recommend the carnitas tacos, for any other readers, and the fajita salad's good, too. Extremely friendly service, and excellent value. Call us next time you come out this way!
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