Day 03 - Getting Aboard

Day 03 - Getting Board

I did a survey yesterday about cruising.  They asked me how many cruises I have been on and the choices were 1, 2,3,4, and 5.  I needed the numbers that were up in the 30s.  Cruising has been my vacation of choice for nearly 35 years because back in the days when my kids were being born I learned that my pager didn't work on board ship.  Once we pushed away from the dock, I was unreachable and unreachable was truly "on vacation".  I don't need protection from a pager anymore, but now cruising is about an inexpensive vacation.  Truth is if you are going to travel there are choices packed with better bang for the buck.  Cruising, for me, is about value.  Not this cruise (turns out a trip to Antarctica is not an inexpensive undertaking) but cruising in general.

So day 3 starts.  I woke up a little late that morning.  Not surprising because day 1 and day 2 were fused into a single day.  Also not surprising because the clock in Argentina was running 3 hours later than the one in Dallas.  A little late wasn't a problem, though, because it takes them half the day to off load last weeks passengers.

I looked out my window and saw that the taxi cabs were lining up to help me get to my ship.  It was boarding day.

For me, boarding day is always a mixed bag of happy and sad.  The sad part has to do with getting into a line with between 2,000 and 8,000 other happy cruisers to go through the embarkation process. 

The happy part is when you finish the lines, security, and paperwork.  They hand you this little plastic card that is your room key, ID, and money, but more importantly, it is a symbol that the boarding process is over.

 Not so on this cruise.  It started out the same.  Same lines.  Same security.  Same paperwork and health screening.  Same plastic card (followed by the same euphoria but this time the joy was premature).

This cruise they give you your little plastic card then put you in another set of lines that take you through the process of exiting Argentina (emigration?), confiscates our passport and then puts us on a bus that drives around the port for 20 minutes and finally dumps you off in front of the ship.

Next is a quick walk up a steep gangway and it's finally euphoria time.

There are plenty of additional embarkation day activities.  Exploring the ship (we didn't do that), rushing to the cafeteria to overeat for the first time (we didn't do that), trudging to your assigned deck and finding your stateroom (we didn't do that either).  For us, it was drag out the Kindle, park in front of a window at the front of the ship, and wait for the little tug boat to pull us out of the harbor.

The sea part of our voyage to Antarctica has begun!

Day 02 - Buenos Aires

Day 02 - Buenos Aires

On the drive from the airport to our hotel we passed the Obelisco de Buenos Aires which is a monument built in 1936 to commemorate the 400th anniversary of the first foundation of the city.  It stands on the spot where the Argentine flag was officially raised for the first time in 1812.  The monument was built in 31 days (yup, that fast) at a cost of 200,000 pesos.

If you are amazed by this picture don't get too impressed with me.  I didn't take it.  I don't even know who did, but if you want the original you can find it on Google!

While we're enjoying pictures I didn't take, here's another one for you.  This one came off the Sheraton web site but it gives you a pretty good mental image of where Mandy and I stayed (because it is a physical image of where Mandy and I stayed).

I did, however, take the picture below from the window of our hotel.  This clock tower, called Torre Monumental (renamed in 1982 from "Torre de los Ingleses").  The tower was a gift from the local British community to commemorate the centennial of the May Revolution of 1810.

So now I suppose some of you are thinking history of a clock tower.  Ya, ya, ya.  Blah, blah, blah.

If you are, however, you are missing the two fun facts.

The first fun fact was that we could see it out our hotel window because my little daughter got us a fancy suite in the hotel (yes, that's right...she's fancy).

The second fun fact was probably obvious to you history buffs.  Torre de los Ingleses means "Tower of the English".  Obviously this means that back in 1909 the Argentinians must have been fond of the British. Why then, would they rename the tower to "Monument Tower" in 1982?

Obviously they still want to remember SOMETHING when they look at the tower, and that something will be revealed on the Day 14 Blog.  Stay Tuned!!

Why We Do Filters

Why We Do Filters

Every serious photographer has a phobia.  It isn't that we lay awake at night worrying, but I expect we all get little chills from time to time when we slip and almost drop a camera or a lens.

High end cameras and lenses cost literally thousands of dollars.  The thought of dropping one and having it break is always unpleasant.  During the flight on day one (or maybe day two, the flight transcended the 2) those imagined nightmares came true.  It wasn't NETFLIX "Stranger Things" scary, but it's a guarantee that your heart will skip a beat (I know mind did)

If you fly very much you've heard the "Be careful when opening the overhead bins as items inside may have shifted" shpeal.  I guess it's true, stuff can move around and at some point during the flight the bin was opened and my camera bag came tumbling out.  I watched in slow motion as the bag turned end over end multiple times and finally crashed into the aircraft floor.

My exclamation was right out loud (but I don't think I yelled, I just said it).

"Well, that can't be good!"

I didn't even open the bag.  I just picked it up, put it back in the overhead and took my seat.   The next day in Buenos Aires I went through the bag and found bad news and good news.  The bad news was that one of my lenses was spilling out broken glass.

The good news was that it was the UV filter doing what we REALLY put them on the lenses for.  It took the shot and although the $30 filter was destroyed, it protected the much more expensive lens.

Cookson 001 - Going for Groceries

There are a number of things we do to help the Cookson Hills Christian Ministry. One of them is to go get groceries for the food store. About once a month Michelle and I take either a flat bed truck (shown) or a diesel pickup with a trailer to a near by city. We meet the Olkahoma food bank truck and bring a few tons of groceries back for the kids and the people who take care of them (take care of the kids, not the groceries).

When we lived in Texas I once did a project that I called "A Thousand Pounds of Meat". Simply put I got family and friends to donate meat. I also shopped the sales at Kroger in an effort to meet my goal of giving a thousand pounds of meat to the Texas food bank and various other benevolent food distribution sources. We reached our goal that year and now that we're at Cookson we get to participate in the other end of the distribution.

Not Messing With The Outcome (Not Much Anyway)

So I'm the Computer Programming teacher here at the Cookson Hills High School and the senior class is having this fund raiser.

The fundraiser consists of putting a pie in the face of three people.  The kids voted and chose 10 people that would be "nominated" to get a pie in the face.  There are voting jars around campus with nominee's names and votes are registered by putting money in one of the jars.  Coins in the jar are votes for a pie in the face.  Paper money in a jar is votes against.  At the end of the voting period there is an assembly and the top three get a pie in the face. 

I was one of the 10 "lucky" nominees.

Yesterday I looked at the daily tally and learned that I have moved into third place behind the principal and the band teacher.  It took me two, maybe three nanoseconds (if you aren't into computers you probably need to look that up) to decide I really didn't need to add "a pie in the face" to my collection of experiences.  Right behind that I decided I needed a strategy.

I found myself in a bit of a dilemma.  On the one hand  I really didn't want to alter the will of the kids.  On the other hand I really didn't want chocolate cream and graham cracker crust stuffed up my nose.

After a short deliberation between the me that didn't want to get hit in the face with the pie and the me that didn't want to dedicate my pension fund to overriding the will of the children, I came up with a solution.

Michelle and I went out to lunch and found a eatery that was across the street from a bank.  After we ordered our meal I scurried across the street (that's right, I didn't walk and I didn't run -- I scurried) and purchased enough change to make my arm unhappy as I strolled back to the restaurant (I know but let's face it, nobody scurries when they are carrying a big bag of rolled coins).

That afternoon I stood in the hall and passed out rolls of nickels with two conditions.  First, the nickels had to go into the voting jars and second, they could not go into mine.

There you have it.  Win, win.  The senior class gets some extra money for their mission trip to Costa Rica, and with any luck at all, my participation in tomorrow's assembly will be in the roll of photographer.

Love Means Never Having To Say You're Stupid

There was this movie back in the olden days called "Love Story".  I'm not sure I ever saw the movie but I remember the tag line was "Love means never having to say you're sorry".

I always thought that line was stupid enough that is should earn a sign from Bill Engvall.  This line might have worked for some people, but only perfect people never need to say they are sorry.  This struck me as being so stupid that I've spent years saying "Love means never having to say you're stupid".

Let me explain what I believe love isn't, then I'll tell you what I think it is.

Here's what love isn't.  Love isn't that warm fuzzy "gee I feel so good I want to pop" feeling you get when you look into that special someone's eyes.  Love isn't warm sunny days, walks in the park, or romantic dinners.  Love isn't being twitterpated (for those of you who are thumper fans).

Since I had been around long enough to figure it out I've explained what love actually is like this (write this down, people.  It will be on the test).

Love is holding the bucket while someone pukes.

Love consists of things that cost you something, but you just don't care about the cost.  All that warm fuzzy, moon hitting your eye like a big pizza pie foolishness is self serving and self serving doesn't really fit into love.  Love is sacrafice.  Love is being kind and unselfish when that's not what someone would normally do.

I've seen love and this year, the worst year of my life, I've seen crazy lots of it.

I saw Shane lecture my wife about taking her MS medication and playing the cancer card to extract a promise to be more diligent.  Since the day of the promise Michelle hasn't missed a single dose. 

He could have had his focus on his disease or what mattered to him in the short time he had left, but instead he spent his time coaching and encouraging those around him.  He put his efforts in uplifting family members and the nursing staff. 

A month or two prior to his diagnosis Shane went to the doctor because he had chest pain.  The chest pain was being caused as cancerous tumors on his lever pressed against his lungs.  The doctor dropped the ball and didn't look close enough to find the real problem because she was busy.  That doctor called Shane as he was dying from the cancer she missed to apologize.  Shane told her not to sweat it and to focus on doing a better job on the next patient.

He let them cut out his eyes so a 68 year old man in Colorado and a 22 year old woman in Scottland can see now.  He never met them.  He donated his body to science so they could bring in doctors and students to cut it up and try to learn how to give the next young father a shot at more time with his wife and infant son.

My son was always good at keeping his focus on what mattered to him most.  I saw love define what mattered to him.  I knew it was love because the focus wasn't on him.

I saw Cassandra sit bed side and watch the horrible ending of her husband's life.  We all came away from last July with nightmares but hers and Mandy's are especially troubling.  They chose to be there to comfort Shane in his last hours even though the images they took from that time will haunt them forever.

I watch my little daughter focus on everyone else.  If she's not giving up her weekend to do a photo shoot to capture priceless memories for some young mother, she's organizing a baby shower or helping someone paint a room.

Mandy stayed up almost all night putting together the euligy and slide show that many of you saw at Shane's funeral.  Her focus wasn't on how hard this loss was for her, it was on helping a bunch of other people as they worked to cope.

Since that time my little daughter has spent hundreds of hours and probably thousands of dollars coming back to Colorado so she could be there to serve Cassandra and Devin.  Mandy disappeared into the shadows and my son's family was given focus.

Holding the bucket.

People we never met brought us meals every day.  It cost them time and money.

Brian Gilmore pulled an all-nighter rushing to the hospital to see Shane, drove home the same day (because he had to work) and then turned around and did it again to support us (the surviving family) at the funeral a couple of days later.  Lots of our friends from Allen made the trip.  Bruce and Debbie, David, Chris and her daughter Michelle.  It didn't stop there.  We had friends from Colorado, Wyoming, and other states too.  All these people stopped in the middle of their busy lives and made our comfort more important than theirs.

When Michelle and I got back to Cookson we were surrounded by the massive hug that results from a whole community comming together to support you.

I lost my son this year but I saw love.  I saw it in Shane's wife.  I saw it in my little daughter.  I saw it in my friends and neighbors and I saw love in my son as I've never seen it before.

I also saw God hold the bucket.  As dozens if not hundreds of people begged for a miracle that would buy Shane a few more years, God chose to answer with a "No" that would even make some of them question his love or motives.  He might have served himself better if he gave the prayer warriors some more of Shane's time, but God is good even when we don't get it. 

As Shane was showing love to his doctors, nurses, and family without regard for what would be best for Shane, God did what was best for Shane without regard for what might most increase God's wow factor and fan base.       

Here's The Thing

Today when I was reading Mandy's blog called Still Good I had these thoughts I have from time to time.

First, people give life too much credit.  It's miniscule.  It's puny.  It's insignificant.  If you believe what I believe then you believe in eternity.  If eternity is infinant time, then you need to ponder what percent 100 years or so is of infinity.  Miniscule.  Puny.  Insignificant.

People put all this effort into the wonders of living an extra 20 (or 50) years.  People describe the loss of a few decades with horror and dread.  From my new perspective the extra 50 years is like cutting your vacation short by heading for the airport 10 minutes earlier.  I've probably got less than 30 good years left and when it seems like too long, I just focus on the big picture and realize it's the length of a photographers flash.  For me it's a coping mechanism from time to time, but if you think your life is the most important thing, perhaps you should consider grabbing hold of something else.

The other thing that runs through my head is how everyone has it backwards.  I never prayed for Shane's recovery.  I always prayed for God's will.  In church today the preacher said when we pray we don't really wan't the answer to be "no" or "wait" we only want it to be "yes". 

Hind sight being 20-20 I would have traded the "yes" I got for either of those other two choices but that's only because I, like everyone else, have it backwards.

Did Shane lose his battle with cancer?  Is he worse off than people who "dodged the bullet" so to speak and spend the rest of their lives getting annual checkups with crossed fingers?  Seems like there is some deep philosophy in there somewhere but what I learned is that from the perspective of the big picture I am like life.

Miniscule.  Puny.  Insignificant.

I expect if I were more I would realize that the greatest will be the least, loosing is a win, and somehow many of us are being decieved. 

In all that I find another coping mechinism.  Backwards or forwards, when the dust settles the worst I can do is leave five or ten minutes early (or late) for the airport.  The vacation comes to an end anyway.