Front Row

A golf tournament at the Dominican Republic. The grooming and greening of the golf course is awesome. After a cold, wet and windy round of golf in 'beautiful Vancouver Island' I stare in wonder at the almost astounding view of the Carribbean Ocean lapping on the shores of the fairways. Everyone in shirt sleeves - their $300 sunglasses making the perfect statement about priviledge. I want to be on that golf course.

Freddie Couples is leading. I'm glad about this because I've always been a Freddie Couples fan. And he looks good. Trimmer than he's been. Tanned and just as loose and easy as always. His long long drives that loop so gracefully up and back. In slow motion we "oh" and "ah" at the perfection. Sand shots look so easy when these guys do them - just pop those babies up right next to the pin! And the putting, the slow, quiet, smooth putts. This is where the game is won and lost. You can louse up your long shots big time, but if you have a decent short game, you'll always come out pretty good. If you have a dynamite short game, you can win a tournament.

Live television is the best television. I snuggle down in my easy chair, and smile in envy as Freddie does his thing. I don't have to buy a ticket, and I get the best seat in the house.

And my guy wins! Freddie Couples wins.

Colonoscopy

I saw an item on TV

a guy was on a stretcher thing in a hospital corridor
He had just had a colonoscopy and
the tv camera was there to hear what he had to say about it

we even saw the inside of his colon
as if we were walking down a hallway
in a very clean well lit cave

"I feel great" he laughed, talking with the tv reporters
How many people would show their colon to the world

This long long tube that turns corners.

American Farewell

Before leaving Pasadena, and because it's the day of the Oscars, we drive right into the heart of the Academy Awards! It's astonishing how far we get before the traffic sends us away. We get a shot of the famous Kodak Theatre where it all happens. This guy has seen it all, though, and he's not impressed.

The weather is sunny so we head for the ocean and the Coastal highway - the famous 101. Life is good. We "oh" and "ah" at every dramatic ocean view. And then - trouble - we discover there's been a rock slide up ahead. We wait 2 hours before we can continue through to Monterey.

Next day, the hills of California and Oregon are simply gorgeous - deeply covered in the bright bright green of spring.

We take our little sporty convertible over the Golden Gate bridge because that's what sporty convertibles are designed to do.

Out in the country they "Adopt Highways". The signs are everywhere. It's the way they keep their highways clean and neat. (I believe Canada has a similar program in the Maritimes.) We are impressed. I guess anyone can do it. "The Shelton Yacht Club" said one sign. "Pacific High School" "B & B Farm Supply" (we came upon the little business right on the main street) "Union Spring Pacific Water" "Jensen Blueberries".

My notes say that California and Oregon have a lot of the following:

1) prisons 2) police cars, 3) Native Reserves with fancy casinos.

We spent 4 months in the United States. At no time did we feel put upon, disrespected, disregarded, or uncomfortable. Everyone we met was considerate, polite, and friendly.

We are impressed with this.

"...in half a mile, right turn..."

We got a new car and it came with GPS. What a treasure!

It has taken us to golf courses we would never have golfed, to hotels we would never have considered, to beers we never knew existed, to freeways we would never have attempted.

But most of all, it has always taken us back home. Most of all, no matter how far afield we roamed, no matter if it rained, or got dark, we knew with certainty that we would get back home.

We haven't given her a name. She remains "she". A somewhat neutral voice.

"Please go to the starting point, and the route guidance will begin" "go a quarter of a mile to Orchard Drive, and turn right" "make a slight left turn onto Arizona 101" "in half of a mile, your destination is on the right".

She does not require perfection. We have been in some wild freeways in the middle of large cities, and missed a lane change. With complete coolness, she has quietly and quickly found a way to put us back on track.

You know how guys hate to ask directions? How they want to be in complete control? She understands this kind of guy. She even goes along with him if he insists! And she doesn't laugh when he's proven wrong. We just find ourselves on the right road and nothing more is said.

If we're in the mood for a lazy out of the way road trip, she'll take us high up in a wooded hill where we wheel around rickety roads and surprise the goats and chickens. She'll stay away from freeways and take us through small town neighborhoods. If we want suggestions for an afternoon's outing, we ask the GPS. If we have only the first three letters of some place that was suggested to us, the GPS knows exactly what we're looking for.

If we need gas, or lunch, or shopping, the screen tells us where they are, what exits to take, how far away.

We talk to her. We make fun of her. We imitate her pronunciation and laugh. Sometimes it seems as if the system has a library of "sounds" and it uses this library to "form" the name of the street.

We don't care. Life has never been sweeter.

"Where were you when we won Gold?"

We watched the last part of the big hockey game in a very huge, noisy bar in Tempe, Arizona. My sister and husband needed to be picked up at the Airport right when the game was being played. They watched part of it on the plane. We listened to part of it on the radio in the car.

As we waited for the luggage to come down I kept running back to Merv in the parked car to see if the score had changed. Then we discovered that another guy who was waiting at the luggage carousel was checking at home for the score, and he kept us up to date.

When we finally got on the road, we decided to go for a beer. We picked the most popular place in Tempe - huge and always packed and never a place to park. The game was near the end so we sat in the car and counted down the seconds. When the U.S. scored, we thought we would die!!!!! No! NO! No!

We decided we would watch overtime on TV in the bar. The place was packed but we got a table at the back with a huge TV. They must of had 25 TV's in there. We had been here before. We loved their beer. And when the perky waitress arrived I asked "Was there a huge cheer when the U.S. scored?" "Big big roar" was her answer. I said "Well, we're cheering for the other team." "Oh yah, for sure" she laughed and went to get our beer. I told Merv he was going to have to turn his baseball cap around so she could see his Canadian flag on the back of it.

But we weren't sure about everyone knowing we were Canadian. The crowd was boistrous. All of them young people. They yelled and shouted and were very excited about the game. A lot of them went outside for a break before the overtime, and things were noisy and unsettled. It was a sunny day and there must have been 400 people. It was an old steel building of some kind - could have been a flour mill. Now it was a Brewery making incredibly good beer, serving great food, and obviously making a fortune.

We ordered food and got settled for the overtime. We discussed what we should do when our team won. "Let's stand up and cheer and start singing O Canada". Hmmmm. We weren't sure if we had the nerve.

The waitress by this time had decided that we weren't making it up when we talked about "cheering for the other team". "Hey, you weren't kidding, were you" she laughed.

The overtime period started. We had a good TV, but there was so much noise, and yelling, it was difficult to hear. It took us a few seconds to realize that we had won! We had won GOLD!"

We "High-fived" and did our thumbs up and "Way to Go! Way to go, Canada!" congratulating ourselves over and over and talking about how great it was that Sydney Crosby had scored the goal.

Things had become a bit quiet. People were not saying a lot. They started leaving. We finished our sandwich as the bar slowly emptied. When the medals were done and the Canadian flag started rising, we sang our song. Not loud. Not standing up. But we sang every word. And we cried here and there through it all. We were so happy to be together.

Four Canadians together in that bar in Arizona.

A couple of young guys were at a table in front of us. They stayed for the medals and the anthem. They never said a word. But when they got up to leave, they shook our hands and said "Congratulations!" We thought that was great.