BOY ON A SKATEBOARD

I've seen him for four years, five days a week, tall and skinny.  "Swish, swish", he strokes the ground as his skateboard glides past.


He's heading east to school as I drive west to work.  The young man seems to barely notice as we pass.  Maybe I'm too familiar. I usually get a slight smile and a little wave.




I used to know him better.  We lived in the same house for six years.
 
Ian's morning treks end tomorrow when he graduates from high school.
Next week I'll have the street to myself.  Sometimes I'll remember how we used to pass each other, my handsome son with the sun in his face and buds in his ears.

ORVILLE'S MANDOLIN

 

He did more than invent the airplane with his brother, Wilber.  


Orville Wright played this mandolin "to get back at a neighbor for his piano playing". 


These were among the discoveries we made in our nation's capitol last weekend. 
Ford's Theater?  Many people wanted to burn it after Booth killed our president there.  A hundred years had to pass before it was turned into a theater again.  
Do you think they'll do that to  the Texas Book Depository in 2063?
    


















We borrowed bikes to see the sights.  According to the Vietnam Memorial, Jesse C. Alba was the last American killed in that unfortunate war.






Fooling around with Meagan in Eastern Market 


She lives with our son, Ruy, in the Capitol Hill neighborhood,














 The new statue of Dr. King stands tall, staring across a lake toward the Jefferson Memorial.  

On our way north, passing  through the security at MIA, we noticed a very tall clown getting x-rayed behind us.  It apparently revealed nothing dangerous in his billowing pink pajama bottoms.  A moment later we were putting on our shoes and I told him, "You looked great!"  He replied, "I'm a doctor and I can wear what I want.  Looking down at his orange iridescent shoes he added, "This makes people happy". 
We later learned it was Patch Adams on his latest adventure.

KILLING OSAMA AGAIN

Coconut Grove marked the anniversary of the killing of Osama bin-Laden by recreating his death.  U.S. Army rangers pretended he was hiding in our abandoned Grand Bay Hotel.


It was early Tuesday morning when we heard huge helicopters flying over our house.  Francesca and I were, to say the least, shocked out of slumber.  
So were 10,000 other Grove residents. 
We ran outside at 2 AM to look for an unseen enemy.  A fighter jet thundered in wide circles as, a mile north, Army Rangers were rappelling down to the roof of the twelve-story hotel.


It seemed like the beginning of WW III,  or perhaps, if you're voting for Mitt, The Rapture.  How else could you explain this nightmare?   Neighbors heard the helicopters, gunfire, and blasts of explosions as a hundred soldiers seized the dark hotel.  A mile south we were just looking to the sky and the roar of an angry, circling jet. Fifteen minutes later it left and the choppers thundered overhead again.


When it ended we had no idea what the hell had happened.   We chalked it up to a major terrorist response and tried to get back to sleep.  The morning Miami Herald revealed nothing as did the Internet.
Finally, Wednesday's paper ran the headline, "Resident's Shell-Shocked by Dead-of-Night Military Drill".  


The article was written by Carl Hiaasen's son, Scott.   No doubt this only-in-Miami story will end up in one of his dad's novels. 
 It explained how "an unannounced military training exercise had jolted many unsuspecting residents from their beds".   He got that right.   Hiaasen quoted Army spokesman Major Michael Burns explaining how this  was all okay as "no real bullets were used".  


As a Grove resident I have heard plenty of middle-of-the-night gunfire.  Once it went on for so long I rode my bike to downtown Grove to witness the end of a major gunfight.  But that was during the cocaine wars and there's been nothing like that for years.  


The army maneuvers got our attention.  Maybe its the key to restoring Coconut Grove's sagging tourist industry.

The Grove Chamber could encourage the military to recreate The Osama Experience every year.  It could be our Burning Man, something to out-Disney Orlando. 
I hear the ads now, "Step inside the thunder!  Experience the power, the military might of that amazing night in Abbottabad, Pakistan..." 
But no, I'd rather sleep.  

RIDING WITH THE ORANGE PEOPLE

1,786 people rode in last Friday's Critical Mass bike ride in downtown Miami (every month someone makes a video of us passing by then they count the heads).  
Mine had an orange fish on it.   Francesca and I are members of Team Fish and the Dutch Tourist Council, who sponsored the event, have this thing for the color orange.  








The ride was great fun as was the party afterwards.  It featured a rolling bar pedaled by the dozen people seated around it.  

On the way there I spotted a familiar face about to cross South Dixie Highway.  I look straight at him and said, "You stole my bike".  I had said the same thing to him six months ago but this time he wasn't sitting on it.
    He looked admiringly at the bicycle that had been his for two days then asked for money.   I try to be positive about most things. Maybe it was good that he was asking instead of taking.

ICE, ICE BABY

       Some answers come easy like when our Sierra Club friends asked,  "Will you come downtown  dressed in bear costumes?" 
     You can do anything in a mask and the polar bear demonstration would help draw attention to the bears' diminishing arctic habitat. 
      Less ice, less bears. and Shell Oil isn't making things better with their proposal to drill in Alaskan waters.
   So there we were at noon  Saturday with boom box blastin'.  We did our best Bear Bugaloo  next to the main library's outdoor event, "An Afternoon of Story-Telling" . 

These two super heroes joined our dancing dozen just before the heat showed up. 


   A large police officer let us know that we had no permit to protest in a public place.   We said, "We're telling a story like everyone else!" but he was not amused.
     Noticing that he packed a taser, mace, and a Glock, 
we melted away. 

SATURDAY'S SUNRISE SERVICE

We had the Everglades to ourselves this weekend. The annual Changing of the Guard -when the mosquitoes come and the tourists go- had a gap.

Grabbing the best camp site (by the lake) was a cinch.

The morning sun peeked through pines accompanied by cardinals, crows, and whip-o-wills.

They say there are also 10,000 Burmese Pythons hidden in the brush but they left us alone. You can be a few feet away from these huge, hungry reptiles and never know it.

Ten hours earlier we had seen the full moon rise. A spectacular, desolate setting just an hour from home.

There's even poetry in the park now. The resident artists program has produced a few works that are posted on park trails.

Our friend, Superintendent Dan Kimball, told us, "We've got it all over now. We love it!".

After reading this one about bard owls and panthers, we walked by the lake and saw wide cat tracks leading to the water.

Later,a nature book told us they probably belonged to a large, thirsty dog. Panthers tracks do not have claw indentations and besides,

the only land animals left are the mega-snakes.

They are there because hundreds of snake owners took their too-big pets to the 'Glades and said, "Be free!". The River of Grass, being reptile heaven, allowed them to multiply like crazy.

A 2011 survey found the pesky critters have reduced the population of the Everglades' rabbits, rats, raccoons, and deer by 98%.

When that happens, park officials pray they will begin eating each other.

TEAM MORMON

The Last Friday Critical Mass Ride is getting to be a habit. Two days ago we joined 1200 other bikers for a twelve-mile ride to Coral Gables and back. We were with Team Fish, hard to miss as our leader (Gina) was riding a dolphin.

As we gathered at Government Center one group of short-sleeved white shirts caught our eye. "Aren't those Mormons?" asked Francesca. They had the shirts, bikes, and backpacks. The three young men even wore black Mormon name tags. I looked them over a bit and told my wife they must be fake, "Too much hair".

Later I learned these guys

were architects from the Grove's Architectonica design firm. As we passed through Little Havana I pedaled up to "Elder Moses" and complimented him on his costume. He told me that being an elder for the evening was great fun and invited me to join them on next month's ride.

I just might. You get blown around a lot when you wear a fish on your head.

Before I pedaled off I asked Elder Moses if I could take his picture. He replied, "Sure. With or without the beer?". When asked him to go for it he whipped one out of his backpack.

Such party animals, those Mormons. That's why my wife and I will be voting for one in November.

Ha ha ha. April fool!

TRAVEL TIP

We had reservations to fly back from San Francisco on Friday night two weeks ago. We got to the airport at 11 PM for our just past midnight flight.

When ticket agent told us our flight had already left I asked incredulously, "Did it leave early?". He replied, "No, your flight

left at 12:15 AM, 23 hours ago".

He told us the only way we could get home was to buy one-way tickets to Miami via New York. We did. The high point of this 17-hour journey was witnessing a beer waterfall in a Kennedy airport restaurant.

Later we told a dozen friends about our ordeal. Three said the same thing had happened to them. Another had gone to an airport last February and was told, "Yes, you have a ticket this day but it is for this day next year". She bought another ticket too.

Don't be fooled on April 1st or any other day. To the airlines, anything past midnight is a new day.