Cafftive

I’ve been working and playing pretty hard lately, my candle is often burning at both ends, and I’m willing to admit that I am being held hostage by coffee.  I need it.  I seek it.  Its availability can re-arrange my schedule and activities.  I am truly a cafftive of this fiendish beverage.

A subtle undercurrent for both of my recent vacations was the where-abouts of my next cup.  Starbucks is ubiquitous, but in Canada, Tim Horton (“T-Ho”) rules, while Dunkin' Donuts (“Dunk-Doe”) is King in New England.  Here at home, it’s “whatever is available”, and that unfortunately includes the Office Coffee Club.  The fact that I willingly drink that stuff is proof enough of my cafftivity.

I can only take solace in Commander Jack Aubrey’s unusual 19^th-century preference for coffee over tea; and the realization that coffee is Big Global Business.  I’m not the only one trapped in a Coffee Club, and I suspect there are worse vices to have.

T-Ho vs. Dunk Doe

Muskie Madness

“Fish such as these can propel anglers toward muskie madness.  In freshwater, perhaps only a muskie is capable of creating a life-altering experience without actually being caught.” {from the May 2013 edition of In-Fisherman magazine}

Well, I’m a little disappointed in their use of the “freshwater” qualifier, because that implies that saltwater offerings include other, equal or more powerful options.  Mako sharks come immediately to mind, and I’m sure that legions have been haunted by various billfish, tuna, shark, tarpon and grouper encounters.  Maybe muskies aren’t the Ultimate Fish.  But I’m here in Michigan 99% of the time, so I’ll content myself with what’s at hand.

As an approximate 9-year-old, my life was first irrevocably altered by the appearance of a fish.  It was a huge, bucket-mouth bass that somehow ended up in my possession.  I can still see that fish, and feel the pride associated with hoisting it up for others to see.  But it was simply a dream.  I don’t know what spurred the dream, and I don’t know what brought me to share it with my Dad.  But what do you know, that night we were procuring bait and tackle for our first fishing trip together.  While it took me some time to get to hoist my trophy, that dream bass (and my Dad's subsequent actions) altered my life's course.  In a positive direction, I might add.

But don’t forget the Amazon Basin's Candiru.  This little freshwater fish will change your life by swimming up your urethra.  Need I say more?

Candiru; i.e., Toothpick Fish.  Beware!

From the Web!

Candiru; those barbs are designed to get in and hold!

In general, I’m in current, total agreement with the opening statement.  You’d think the "First" or the "Biggest" or even the "Next" would be the "Best".  You might even think that landing a fish would be better than simply encountering one… but I’m haunted and driven by the fish I missed.  The lingering image of the cubicle-sized explosion of frothy, thrashed water, the memory of the power of the couple of head shakes during which we were connected, and the pure savagery exhibited by the strike, all supplemented by the near-constant reminders from the store’s various trophy mounts, dominate my fishing thoughts.  I’ve subsequently given up a lot of bass, pike and salmon fishing this season, in exchange for empty days on the water in pursuit of muskies.  Giving up on bass, pike and salmon; a sure sign of my madness. 

A life altering encounter?  Maybe not, and in the end it probably doesn’t matter which fish I’ve chosen to pursue or how I waste my time.  But the muskie has been a near-constant companion for the last 6 months, and I don’t see her being displaced by any local candidates any time soon.  Maybe I’ll even be able to whittle down that “without actually being caught” part of the quote.  In the meantime, I'll have to remain satisfied with the memory of yesterday's muskie tracking down my bucktail and following it for a few turns in my figure 8 before she disappeared.  She's given me more to think about!

2nd Half-Century

I just crossed the threshold into my 2^nd Half-Century, and while most of the recent public talk has been about the 50^th Anniversary of MLK Jr.’s March on Washington, I’d like to point out that he’s not the only one to have a dream.  Mine are more limited in scope, for sure, and many are just budding for me.  They are less well-articulated, but they are close to my heart, and I hope that my pursuit of them accomplishes some good along the way.

I, of course, dream of the best for my girls, even though I probably can’t define what “best” for them might be.  The providence of genetics and nurturing is largely complete, but I still have a role in enabling Stability and Opportunity in their lives.  I simply wish for their happiness as productive adults, surrounded by loving companions.  I wish for a future filled with interesting pursuits that provide for their growth in a safe, healthy environment.  I hope to remain their friend.

Not just my girls, but all my younger relatives and friends and their cohorts should have the opportunity to prosper.  At some point we need to get away from our collective short-sightedness and self-centered interests and decide to build a stable future that provides some real opportunities.   Here in Michigan, we should be preparing to build George Jetson’s car instead of fumbling along like Oliver Wendell Douglas in Green Acres.  We should be able to look slightly past the opportunities provided by the use of sticks and twigs as fuel and demolition of blight as a growth industry, and focus our attention and resources on education, service, and quality of life issues.

Mostly, I dream of A’s companionship and the fun to be had.  I dream of a boat in the water, an amenable nap schedule, some good meals and books, and lots of exploration and poking around.

On a fun but somewhat unnecessary note, some occasional blue water excitement (including occasional calm seas, warmth and a few new species?) would be nice.  This actually seems possible, given my efforts in retailing and outfitting for the past 7 months.  Maybe I even dream of these efforts spreading into other areas, getting out of my cubicle, and enjoying a future that involves some more time on the water.

Enough of dreams; here’s some reality.  I started off my 2nd Half-Century with an unlikely, quasi-spontaneous trip to Florida with my youngest daughter.  We’d talked for years about various Father-Daughter Trips, but we’d never actually executed one.   I knew we’d be alone this Labor Day Weekend (my other girls were in Maine), and a quick review of the Venn Diagram of Our Interests showed an intersection dominated by roller coasters and snorkeling.  So, supported in large part by funds from my second, fun job, we flew off on my 50^th birthday to Orlando for 3 Days, 5 Parks and 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea!

It was generally awesome to share time alone with her, and this trip was a very well-earned reward for her general goodness and strength of effort.  I felt stupid for even thinking about traveling to Florida at the height of Hurricane Season, but in the end, all logistics worked out perfectly, crowds weren’t so bad, we did everything we wanted, and most of all it was FUN!  The best part of each experience was the sound of her laughter and the sight of her smile, and I was able to enjoy these things even more because the trip was focused on our companionship.  Not much else mattered, and the typical distractions and pressures of other trips (such as driving, fishing logistics and expectations, juggling multiple schedules, etc.) were minimized.  In addition to being fun, this trip was relaxing; and somehow I came back home rested and recharged.  I should remember this formula!

M in typical Florida mood and ready to go!

Underwater Selfie!

We took a break to visit the aviary and were visited by these two Sunny Conures.

Sharks!  Just Nurse Sharks, but still Sharks!

A typical encounter in crystal clear water; Cow-nose Ray, Look-down Jack and a Blue Surgeon.

• Three days
• Five parks
• Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea

Well, I can’t quite check off this last item.  But Marie and I did spend half an hour or more underwater with 70-pound aerated helmets on a Sea Adventure, walking around on the “ocean” floor while viewing hundreds of fish (bony and cartilaginous!) and various invertebrates.  I’ve been a huge fan of Jules Verne since I discovered reading, and while this experience wasn’t 100% Authentic (safety, oversight and boundaries did, after all, rule over flat-out adventure and collecting our dinner), it was a cool experience that I shouldn’t have waited 50 years for.  And I might have swum 20,000 leagues in my full day of snorkeling; at least that’s what my body is telling me.

Underwater with a Photo-Hogfish

Hogfish and Porkfish, with Jacks and Grunts in the background.

A beautiful Perth Mint Surgeon.