Another Memorable Fall Season

   Every year Cheryl and I go to some favorite spots to check out the color in the neighborhood. Last year was not a good year for color but this year produced some beautiful views that we would like to share with you. They say that 'wet' years are not as colorful as 'dry' years and I would have to agree with that, as this year has been 'dry' and last year was 'wet'. Most of these were taken on Veterans Day but some are earlier, the peak was probably 10 days later this year than last. I still have a golden maple in my back yard that has not even started changing yet.
   We look on this season as a gift from God, a colorful interlude before the harshness of winter sets in. The North Carolina piedmont produces pale yellows to bright vivid yellows to deep goldens to orange to red-orange to bright red to deep reds to purple. Combined with the blues in the sky, we are treated to a rainbow of  pleasant hues to color our palates in our mind's eye.  We are grateful and thankful that we live in an area that provides so much rich natural beauty.

 

 

 

 

Searching for a Silver Bullet

  

   We both lay on our backs looking up into that vast Texas summer sky which appeared as a sea of darkness, sprinkled with specks of planets and twinkling stars. The shimmering landscape below was lit by a fully waxed moon. At almost thirteen years old, neither of us had been to an ocean, but the unrestricted panorama that colored the palates of our minds eyes easily brought visions that must have fascinated every seaman since Noah. The old quilts we lay on were just soft enough to blend with the sand that lay beneath us. The day's heat had been unbearable, and since we had no real air conditioners in our houses we opted to camp out in the back yard; and perhaps even stay up all night. Charlie was the quiet type and often just smiled when you expected him to say something. It wasn't that he didn't have anything of value to say, he was simply the careful type who thought before he spoke. That was one of the things I liked about him.

   We met in the sixth grade; I was new to the school and he had been there since the first grade. We became friends because we both walked the same route home; his house was a long block before you got to my home. We discovered that we both loved baseball and football and we both loved to watch old horror movies on television. Charlie became my very best friend and we thoroughly enjoyed hanging out together. My mother was ill with cancer and Charlie would come in and visit with her; telling her humorous stories that made her laugh. His Mom was a cheerful lady with a heart of gold. Her name was Lily and she was one of those folks who chose to be happy in spite of any circumstance. She had two sons, and though Charlie was the pensive type, his older brother was a rachet-jawed purveyor of hateful dialogue who spread dissention everywhere he went. They were a typical dysfunctional family and Charlie was destined to be the most successful of the bunch. Neither of us were straight A students that year, but we both made better than average grades.
   "What do you want to do when you grow up?, he asked.
   I stared deep into the great vastness of the unending sky and realized that I had no idea what I wanted to be. College was out of the question; Dad struggled to pay the doctor bills and I wasn't going to qualify for any kind of scholarship.
   "I don't know, but I know that I don't want to be a bricklayer like Dad; he has to work too hard and he has to travel to find work." I finally said.
   Charlie's Dad was a city bus driver who had made a career of civil service and earned just enough to keep his family fed and clothed. The city bus line ran next to his home, so he rode the bus to work everyday. Like my family, they had a modest home and a television and they struggled to make ends meet. Our Mom's and Dad's loved us and sacrificed to provide all our needs; it was the mid-1950's and our needs were not great.
   "I'd like to go to Texas A&M and join the Aggie Corp of cadets." He said.
   "I don't know how, but I'd really like to go and learn to be a veterinarian, I like animals and I'd like to learn to be a Vet."
   Now I was a TCU Horned Frog fan and I hated the Aggies, but Charlie was my best friend, so I said, "I hope you can go there, if I ever get a dog, I'll bring him to you when he is sick." I then rolled my eyes back to the heavens and thought, 'I'm not smart enough to go to college and my folks can't afford it, and his can't either, but boy wouldn't that be wonderful.'
   We then switched to talking about girls that we liked and about football teams and players that we followed at TCU, and Texas A&M, and in the Southwest Conference.
The stars were rolling across ever so slowly as we talked and pondered the unfathomable questions of the universe. Who would win the World Series this year? When would our families be able to afford a color TV? When would we be able to get our driver's license? Why were the Dodger's going to Los Angeles? How many stars were in the sky? How far can you see? What exactly was it like to kiss a girl?
   After serious discussion on each of these issues we checked our watches and discovered that it was nearly four o'clock, and we were suddenly feeling a wee bit tired.
In fact, we were exhausted and by four-thirty we were both sound asleep. The universal questions were unanswered and the silent universe slowly kept on rolling above our heads. A brilliant Texas morning sun rudely pried open my eyes and I could feel the intensity of it's heat before I fully awoke. I pulled my quilt underneath the large leaves of the nearby sycamore tree and managed to get a few more moments of sleep, until the blue jay landed overhead and began squawking at the top of his lungs. We got up and managed to wake up enough to eat a bowl of Cheerios before Charlie had to go home. I managed to get several naps during the day to make up for the loss of sleep.
   The following night was Saturday night and the local TV station had a regularly scheduled horror show that lasted till after midnight. We always watched it at his home because we didn't want to disturb my Mother so late. The walk to his home was a very long block that equated to two regular city blocks, but there was a sidewalk all the way from my corner down to the front of his house. I went down early enough to eat supper because Lily always had a hearty meal prepared. We had meatloaf and mashed potatoes and green peas along with a  slice of delicious lemon meringue pie. Charlie had a rabbit hutch out behind his house so we went out after supper and fed his pet rabbits and then played with them in the grass. It was the first time I had ever seen a lop-eared rabbit. Afterwards, we gathered around the TV and watched the Perry Como show and Red Skelton and then at ten-thirty the horror feature began. Lily popped some popcorn on the stove in a pan and then gave each of us a bowl of our own to munch on as we watched the feature. That night the original 'Wolfman' was showing and both Lon Chaney and Bela Lugosi were featured. Before the age of CGI, we actualized the horror in our minds and we were literally scared out of our wits. Our popcorn had been devoured and both of us sat wide-eyed as the movie ended shortly after midnight. As I wondered where I might find a silver bullet to keep around, I realized that I now had to walk home alone. I said,
   "Uhh, Charlie, why don't you walk with me and we can talk about our plans for tomorrow."
   "Uhh, sure but you could uh, you could just call me tomorrow." He responded.
   "But I've got some things to talk about now, while I've got them on my mind. Come on; just walk with me half-way at least."
   "O.K. I'll go half-way with you." He said with bravado.
   He was my friend and though he too was terrified, he would do his part. We started out briskly and stayed close as we walked silently down the long sidewalk. The walk seemed unusually long that night and the air seemed cooler than the previous night. The moon was behind a cloud and there were no streetlights; it was as pitch black as the previous night had been brilliantly lit. Just as we reached the half-way point, the full moon lurched from behind the clouds and as if on cue a neighbor's dog simultaneously cut loose a blood-curdling howl that made our hair stand on end. We looked into each other's saucer-sized eyes and without a word, one and the other made the same decision. The two of us broke into a sprint in opposite directions and the last thing I heard was Charlie's voice trailing back over his shoulder,
   "I'LL   call    you     tomorrooowww !"
   We were close for several years and then we drifted apart in High School as he played football and I played in the band. We had a few classes together in high school, but somehow we were never the same as we had been earlier. Charlie realized his dream and went to Texas A&M University where he was a part of the Corp.  He didn't become a Vet, but he got a good job after attending there. I got a job that reimbursed my tuition, so I attended TCU Evening College for a few years and acquired a two year Management Certificate. Over the next few years I attended TWC in Ft Worth and Regis College in Denver; and eventually, I graduated from Amber University in Dallas. Neither of us thought we would ever have the chance to attend college, but we took advantage of the opportunities we had. We remain friends until this day, but we seldom see each other. He still lives in Texas and I live in North Carolina. Both of our parents have passed on and we are both married with families of our own. He was a true friend and I regret that our paths took such divergent directions. The last time I saw him, he was the same gentle spirit as when we were boys, still careful to speak and considerate of others. He is a true Texas gentleman and a great childhood friend.

   In the ensuing years, I have learned the answer to most of our questions from that summer night.
1. The Milwaukee Braves beat the Yankees in the '57 World Series.
2. My folks never could afford a color TV, I bought one for myself in 1968.
3. I got my driver's license in 1961.
4. The Dodgers moved because the City of Brooklyn wouldn't build Walter O'Mally a new stadium.
5. I still don't know how many stars are in the sky.
6. I don't have a clue how far you can see.
7. Karen Westernhagen helped me figure out that kissing thing the following year.
8. I'm still searching for that silver bullet.

Post Op

   I had back surgery three weeks ago. My spinal specialist performed a procedure to add another layer to my existing spinal fusion, so now I have 3 vertebrae fused with clamps and rods in my lumbar region. I believe the procedure was a remarkable success, as all of my pre-surgery issues have been removed. No more sciatica from my lower back to my feet in both legs, no more walking like Quasimodo from the Hunchback of Notre Dame, and no more sharp jabs of pain that buckled my knees when I coughed or sneezed. Modern medical science is truly awesome when applied to your ailments.




   When all is said and done the medical expenses will exceed $100,000. Thank God for my retirement insurance and Medicare Advantage coverage. My sweet wife asked me if I realized that I could have had someone remove the stump from our backyard for about $150 and I could have avoided all the pain and discomfort I have suffered over the past 4-5 months. Yes ma'am and I promise never to do it again. Honest.



The $100,000 glory hole.

 

A deluded 72 year old man who had to prove he could dig out the stump.

   The only redeeming aspect of the whole process is that my kids, my family and many good friends have all stayed in close touch and I have felt their love and support throughout the ordeal. It was a real plus two weeks after the surgery when my son Darren and granddaughter Taylor paid me a visit. I was not in top form but it rallied my spirits to share some time with them and my son David's family in Virginia.

 

 

I really loved that man

I'm a duffer, always have been, always will be. I was attracted to golf at an early age and followed many champions until he came along in the late 50's. As a kid in west Texas, I learned to like golf and the current champion Ben Hogan, but it was the youth and energy that the new star brought to the game that captured my imagination. My Dad was not a golfer and I couldn't afford a set of clubs until I worked a second job at Montgomery Wards in my early twenties. While I was learning the game, my hero was winning tournaments across the country and I became a member of "Arnie's Army". Chi Chi, Lee Trevino, Gary Player  and many more rose in the ranks, but Arnie was always my favorite.

 I followed him all of his active playing time until the mid-nineties when he retired. I loved and adored his playing skills, his style of playing, his dressing style (with the soft sweaters covering a different colored polo underneath) his genuine humility and his generosity toward others. I admire the man's character above his playing skills. He was not just a golfer, he flew his own private jet from match to match because family time mattered, he became a successful business man with his own line of clothing and canned drinks, he designed new golf courses, and  he created charities and a couple of new hospitals to share the blessings he had been given. He was a caring, sharing man.

I kept up with his infrequent appearances on the Senior Tour as I now live in North Carolina. My company had an agreement to furnish the marshals at the Vantage Senior Tournament at Tanglewood in Winston-Salem and I volunteered to be a marshal with my friends. I actually met and spoke to many greats like Lee Trevino, Chi Chi Rodriguiz, and Gary Player, but I always wanted that one chance to exchange pleasantries with the "King of Golf", and it finally came.

I was working on the par 5, fourteenth hole as a marshal at mid-point of the fairway where tee shots land. At the 250-300 yard marker the hole has three fairway bunkers covering a dogleg right on the right side to protect from incoming shots. I was stationed at the right side and charged with spotting the ball for the incoming golfers as they launched their tee shots. I inched out into the fairway and squatted to get a view of the next shot. The X on the map below indicates where I waited for Arnie, and finally his turn came up.

I kept waiting and then one of the marshals hand signaled me to move back. When I did, Arnie hit his tee shot into the middle of the fairway. I awaited my opportunity to see my hero as he drove to his ball. No opportunity to speak, I merely watched the great man, Arnold Palmer, play through.

My friend who was working as marshal on the tee box came running up to my position as Arnie played through.
"Why did you wave me back?" I asked.
He was laughing as he said, "You should have heard what he said about you".
Thinking how fortunate I was that the "king" of golf and my longtime idol had actually noticed me, I responded "What do you mean?".
My friend replied, "He said to tell that 'idiot' to get off the fairway so I can hit my tee shot"
Not what I was hoping for Arnie but, now that you have a better view of things, it was me and I still love you man.

Time to say goodbye for another year.

We learned how to attract hummingbirds this summer and they are a joy to watch. They are the only bird that can fly in any direction, i.e. frontwards, backwards, sideways in either direction, upwards and downwards, as well as hovering in place like a helicopter. I have tried to capture these amazing little critters on camera and have been fortunate to get a few good images to share. Their wings beat 4800 times per minute and their heart beats an astonishing 1260 times per minute. This rapid wing movement creates the humming sound that gives them their name. When you are near their feeding source awaiting their arrival, you actually sense their presence through the incredible pace of their little wings, it is a sensation that literally creeps into your being before you see them. And of course they are very difficult to photograph because they move so rapidly in any direction. They are wary of humans, but if you dress appropriately, you can get within 6-10 feet of them while they are eating at a feeder.

Hummers have to eat their weight every day to maintain their ability to have so much energy. That sounds astounding until you realize that they weigh less than an ounce. When they migrate, they have to double their weight from 3 grams to over 6 grams to sustain them on their journey. They are truly an amazing creation of the creator and a thing of beauty to behold. Sadly, we are nearing the end of their summer migration and it is time for them to fly south for the winter. Most of the ruby throated hummingbirds that spend their summers in North Carolina will winter in Mexico  and down as far as Panama in Central America. Amazingly, it is likely that they will return to join us next summer. I saw little "Jeannie" this morning and hope to see her for a few more days before they take flight.

Here are some migration basics from the hummingbirds.net website.

"Each hummingbird species has its own migration strategy, and it's incorrect to think of "hummingbirds" as a single type of animal, all alike. This article will discuss Ruby-throated migration, because it's likely that more people see that species than all the others in North America combined, and its dynamics are similar to other species, although the dates and locations vary. An exception is Anna's Hummingbird, which typically does not migrate but may wander up- and downslope following seasonal food resources.
Banding studies suggest that individual birds may follow a set route year after year, often arriving at the same feeder on the same day. We do not know if any individual bird follows the same route in both directions, and there are some indications that they do not.

Why migrate?

 Some songbird species have adapted completely to our variable North American climates, in part by becoming vegetarians in winter, and don't migrate. But hummingbirds are carnivores (nectar is just the fuel to power their flycatching activity), and depend on insects that are not abundant in subfreezing weather, so most of them must retreat back "home" to Central America in the winter or risk starvation. A few Ruby-throated remain along the Gulf coast each winter instead of continuing to Central America, perhaps because they are too old or sick to make another trans-Gulf flight or too young (from very late nests) to have had time to grow fat and strong enough to migrate; their survival chances depend on the severity of each particular winter, and many perish in unusually cold years. Another small population winters in the Outer Banks of North Carolina.

Northward Migration

Most Ruby-throated Hummingbirds winter between southern Mexico and northern Panama. Since hummingbirds lead solitary lives and neither live nor migrate in flocks, an individual bird may spend the winter anywhere in this range where the habitat is favorable, but probably returns to the same location each winter. Ruby-throats begin moving north as early as January, and by the end of February they are at the northern coast of Yucatan, gorging on insects and spiders to add a thick layer of fat in preparation for flying to the U.S. Some will skirt the Gulf of Mexico and follow the Texas coast north, while most apparently cross the Gulf, typically leaving at dusk for a nonstop flight of up to 500 miles, which takes 18-22 hours depending on the weather. Although hummingbirds may fly over water in company of mixed flocks of other bird species, they do not "hitchhike" on other birds. Some hummingbirds land on offshore oil rigs or fishing boats to rest. Individual birds may make landfall anywhere between southern Texas and central Florida. Before departing, each bird will have nearly doubled its weight, from about 3.25 grams to over 6 grams; when it reaches the U.S. Gulf coast, it may weigh only 2.5 grams. It's also possible that a few Ruby-throats island-hop across the Caribbean and enter the U.S. through the Florida Keys.
Males depart Yucatan first, followed about 10 days later by the first females. But the migration is spread over a three-month period, which prevents a catastrophic weather event from wiping out the entire species. This means that a few birds will arrive at any location very early (the dots on the migration map), but the bulk of the population will follow later, so you may not see your first hummingbird for several more weeks. Each individual has its own internal map and schedule, and "your" birds may arrive early, late, or anywhere within a two-month span.

Once in North America, migration proceeds at an average rate of about 20 miles per day, generally following the earliest blooming of flowers hummingbirds prefer. The northern limit of this species coincides with that of the Yellow-bellied Sapsucker; if the earliest males arrive in Canada before sufficient flowers are blooming, they raid sapsucker wells for sugar, as well as eat insects caught in the sap. The northward migration is complete by late May. Banding studies show that each bird tends to return every year to the same place it hatched, even visiting the same feeders. See the Ruby-throated migration map for the species' range and earliest arrival dates.

Southward Migration

Unlike the Rufous and other hummingbirds of the western mountains, where freezing nights are common even in summer, Ruby-throats aren't well adapted to cold temperatures; they have a tough time below the mid-20s (F), and don't enter torpor as regularly as their western cousins to conserve energy. To avoid the cold, and the scarcity of food when flowers stop blooming and insects stop flying, they go south. Some adult males start migrating south as early as mid-July, but the peak of southward migration for this species is late August and early September. By mid-September, essentially all of the Ruby-throated at feeders are migrating through from farther north, and not the same individuals seen in the summer. This is difficult to see, since they all look alike, but has been proven by banding studies. The number of birds migrating south may be twice that of the northward trip, since it includes all immature birds that hatched during the summer, as well as surviving adults.
For a hummer that just hatched, there's no memory of past migrations, only an urge to put on a lot of weight (see above) and fly in a particular direction for a certain amount of time, then look for a good place to spend the winter. Once it learns such a route, a bird may retrace it every year as long as it lives. The initial urge is triggered by the shortening length of sunlight as autumn approaches, and has nothing to do with temperature or the availability of food; in fact, hummingbirds migrate south at the time of greatest food abundance. When the bird is fat enough, it migrates. It's not necessary to take down feeders to force hummingbirds to leave, and in the fall all the birds at your feeder are already migrating anyway. If you remove your feeder, birds will just feed elsewhere, but may not bother to return to your yard the next year. I recommend continuing to maintain feeders until freezing becomes a problem.
Many people notice that adult males migrate earlier than females, because in the last month or so there may be no birds with red throats at feeders. However, remember that immature Ruby-throats of both sexes look much like their mothers. Young males often have a "5 o'clock shadow" of dark throat feathers in broken streaks, and many develop one or more red gorget feathers by the time they migrate. Immature females may have much lighter streaks in their throats, but no red.
There is evidence that fewer Ruby-throats cross the Gulf in fall than in spring, most instead following the Texas coast back into Mexico. Perhaps the hurricane season is a factor, and the genes of many birds with a tendency to fly over water were lost at sea during storms."