Introduction to the Stories

Did you know that the child raised by a single parent will probably become a single parent? Turned out to be true in my case; my father went to Japan at the peak of his career and had a wife and five children. Soon it was just him and the kids.

My off-shore destination,also at the peak of my career, was Ireland and for me there were four children and an intention to leave the wife behind in the U.S..

Yes, there were many differences in our stories but similarities as well.

The posts in this blog include stories that show both but let me say right up front: they are NOT about reaching out for sympathy or anything of that kind. (To quote Dad: "What are you looking for, sympathy? Not getting any here." That's okay Dad, relax; they are just stories; a bit of family history - including yours!)

Some are funny (maybe in a fairly dry sort of way but still...) some may seem sad; but the main intention is to show what got us from one point to another; how we became who we are - and, maybe, what future generations can do to avoid becoming us.

There is also much here that those future generations will, hopefully, want to pass on and add their own stories to an ever evolving Family History.

I’ve stressed to my kids that they should not raise their children the way they were raised but should do things the way they think is right for the world as it they find it. For my part, I made every effort to avoid what I considered major parenting errors on my father’s part but I have no doubt that some attitudes became so internalized that I'm not even aware of them. The process of putting "pen to paper" may bring some of that to an awareness but it will be through your reading that some sort of "truth" may become evident.

But I cannot deny that he was the bridge that carried us across.

My siblings and I were always after him to record his story either in writing or on tape but he never did. That is one mistake I am trying to avoid by telling these stories and including the occasional essay about this,that and the other.

This is not intended to be a formal memoir but a collection of stories and essays that are in no particular sequence. As it is written, so too should you feel free to jump around as a topic catches your eye.

While, as previously said, I expect the audience for all of this to mostly be family members, the style of the writing is intended to show a presumption of a more general audience. The purpose is to provide myself a necessary sense of detachment - even if only as self-delusion. I expect that to be a more productive perspective.

At the end of this introduction there is a photo collage showing some of my life stages. The drawing was by number 1 son when he was about 12 and serves as the "theme" for this collection - dreaming of the memories of those earlier selves. That youngest version of me was probably taken in North Dakota. The one a little older was part of a group shot of our first dinner at the Officer’s Club in Japan. The sailor was me at 17, graduating from Boot Camp; the one next to that was still in the USN somewhere at sea. Above that was me as a civilian working in the Operations area of a major insurance company. Next to that, with all the hair, was me in my late 20s; at the time, I was Director of Data Base Operations for the Institute for Scientific Information.

Below that was a promo shot for a monthly essay on management stuff that I wrote for a trade newsletter for a few years. It was also used in the brochures for the seminar series based on those essays.

And the last shot was in Ireland. After an absence of ten years or so doing other things, I was asked to return to ISI as VP, Director of Off-Shore Operations with a three-year, fixed-term, contract to set up a new facility there.

On returning to the US; well, it was pretty much downhill, professionally speaking, for a while. Somehow I had become "over-qualified".

There was also the added complication of a drug addicted wife to provide more then a few problems.

At the start there was a substantial consulting contract but when that was over there was a serious employment gap. And then there was the job as an EMT (Emergency Medical Technician); a somewhat ironic job given that I had declined the opportunity to become a Hospital Corpsman in the Navy. I do have to say that as an EMT, I was a very good driver.

Sadly, that company went under in spite of that last ditch effort to operate it out of my home. Followed that adventure with Welfare, where I was disappointed to learn, I earned more than as an EMT. But it was a job that I wanted - not a career necessarily; just a paying job. I did find part time job working art auctions as a Display Manager - meaning delivering the art, setting things up, training the volunteers, taking it down and taking what was left back to the warehouse. A minimum 12-hour day plus another five or six hours commuting (no car at the time).

And for all of that effort, every dollar earned was deducted from what I would have received from Welfare for staying home. But I was working and that was just fine.

Went from Welfare to a position as a Senior Counselor with a job placement center - teaching people how to find a job. (Yeah, yeah, I know.)

When the Job Center closed at the end of their contract I was able to get a job as front line supervisor with an imaging company - I was not the first choice. Someone else quit at the last minute and my resume was dug out of the reject pile. But there I was and, after a series of promotions, became the last manager standing at the end of what turned out to be a five-year project. Turned down an offer from that company for a job that involved frequent travel to India (still a single parent); was able to go back to Operations Management in a service bureau where the owner remembered me from the "old days"; that died due to the competition from places like India.

On to a position as a Sales Rep with a Jewish cemetery in spite of having a very German last name. Whether for that reason or a lack of sales talent in general I was a marginal sales rep but hung in there for a couple of years. And then I was promoted to GM of the place and then with a serious drop in revenue and a major argument with the Marketing Director, downsized back to unemployment.

But the kids were all grown up and on their own - for the most part; the youngest had moved back with his mother after she managed to marry into serious money - not wealthy but close enough.

And my most recent relationship had ended; I was on my own. So I gave up job seeking and took early retirement.

Not to worry, all will be explained in one story or another as these posts continue. And I am sure we both want to find out how it all ends!

You will also notice a section of "Stray Thoughts"; they are just that, a collection of personal essays on topics that have affected me in one way or another over the years.

To reiterate an earlier comment, my hope is that my kids, and theirs, will add to this "history" in the years to come.

Learning to Drive (eff 01/12/2010)

It had been a hot summer and my friend, Stan, decided it was time for me to get out of the city and enjoy a ride in the country. He would pick me up in an hour.

True enough, I lived in the center of a city but there was a park right next door and that was one of my favorite places. It was also true that I didn’t have a car - not unusual, especially for Center City; but what was different and was very unusual for someone my age (26) was I didn’t even know how to drive. All of which was no reason for Stan to disparage my lack of means to go for a Sunday drive in the country. Still, it did get me thinking……

I was Officer at a Bank and that entitled me to an unsecured loan. It was time for me to get a car.

Stan went car shopping with me. I was the buyer and handled the interactions with the sales people; up to the point; when I was asked if I wanted to take a car for a test drive; then I would defer to Stan. The sales person would look confused and ask who was buying the car.

“I am”, I said, “but I don’t know how to drive.”

Well I finally bought one, not from a Dealer but privately, and Stan drove it “home” for me using the license plate from his car since he had recently had an accident and that car had been totaled. For my “home base”, I decided to rent space in a garage a few blocks from my Center City apartment building (which had no garage of its own). You just pulled up in front and they would take it away; when you came back, you showed your ticket and they brought it back. What could be simpler?

The next day I started the process of getting a license; a process which in those days would take weeks, at the least.

And there I was, sitting in my apartment, thinking “hey, I have a car”. Of course I went over to get it; the valet brings it down and there’s a one way street leading to another one way street. The car’s an automatic; all I have to do is steer it. And, hey, what about that school yard down the street; I could practice in there! Excellent thinking!

And off I went. All went as planned until I reached a street with two way traffic; I had to turn left onto it to get back to the garage. What to do, what to do? No choice had to do it.

And when the next night came along, off I’d go again. By the time the weekend arrived I was ready for a ride in the country. I had a pair of dogs and they would like nothing better than to run around Valley Forge Park.

So off we went. And all was well; mostly. Up until the time we were back in the City. All of a sudden there were the lights of a Police car behind me and I had to pull over. No license; no registration (can’t register a car without a license), no insurance.

Just me and the dogs.

Here comes the Officer. “Excuse me sir, do you realize you’re driving without a license plate?” “What? You’re kidding?” As I get out of the car and walk around back; right, no license plate.

“Where do you park?” he asks. And I explained where. “Oh, that place has a bad reputation for having plates stolen; you’d better get it back there and call in your missing plate.”

“Right, Officer, will do that right away; thanks for your help; never would have thought …..” and kept on mumbling as I returned to the driver’s seat and prepared to drive away.

No questions about any paperwork! The only question for me was what had happened to the plate? Went home and called Stan; “oh right, he says; bought a new car and needed my plate so I took it. Thought you would notice.”

Who walks around a car to make sure there’s a plate before you drive away?

About that time, my paperwork started coming through and I had a Learner’s Permit, registration, my own license plate and insurance. The day after I had that permit, I went to take the test.

And passed it.

Which confused the State cop giving me the test. “How’d you get the Learner’s Permit one day and pass the test the next? When’d you learn how to drive? “He was also a little suspicious since I was as old as I was and claimed (truthfully, as it happens) to never have had a license. Like I said, that was very unusual.

So I explained how I was on a LST (Landing Ship Tank) in the Navy and had to drive the Marines vehicles on and off the ship. Which was not true since the Marines would never let a mere swabbie drive one of their vehicles.

But what could I say? Tell him about those driving-without-a-permit practice sessions?

I just sat there and quietly waited. For about three hours - while they checked all the surrounding states for some kind of record on me. (They assumed I had lost my driving privileges somewhere else and was trying to offset that with a new Pennsylvania license. Nope; I was just an impatient idiot.)

And that is just about that for this part of the story. Shortly after completing all the above, I decided to take a vacation. Someone had told me that the only way to learn how to drive was to drive. So I put the dogs in the kennel, loaded up the car and my lady of that time and off we went, heading South. No particular plans or maps; see something that looked interesting and go that way.

For the most part the trip was uneventful. Except for that time in the Blue Ridge Mountains where we saw what looked like a road of interest going down into the valley, took the turn and about half way down we passed the people making the road.

And then there was that near fatal collision with a very large truck – scared the hell out of that guy!

But mostly just tourist stuff. I did really like that “no plan, let’s just see what happens” way of traveling.

I was now a Diver; at least of cars with automatic transmissions.

The Prequel

To be completely candid, I should tell the tale of the very first time I drove; didn't really qualify as learning anything much but it was an experience.

There had been that one time, nearly a decade earlier, I was still in the Navy and although only in the enlisted ranks, did get along with a few of the Officers. One of those Officers had met a young lady in Philadelphia and would be driving there for an upcoming weekend. Knowing I was from Philly, he offered me a ride.

All was set up to that Friday when there was a hurricane warning and all shore leaves were put on hold except for very limited excursions nearby. My friend, the Lieutenant, managed to go far enough to get more than a little drunk.

Later that evening I heard someone shouting “where’s ******?” I was in the parking lot; I was not entirely surprised to find the source of that question was the Lieutenant and proceeded to locate him and follow along as we went on board the ship to get our stuff for the trip. “We’re leaving, he told the Officer of the Day – and a good friend of his; “the warnings over and Ed and I are going to Philly.”

As we got into his car, a two-seater Mercedes sports car, he asked if I knew how to drive: “I don’t have a license.” “Didn’t ask if you had a license, asked if you knew how to drive.”

“Sure”, I lied, figuring that whatever I did couldn’t be worse than him driving drunk even though, up to that time, I had never been behind the wheel of a car. But once we were off the base and on the highway that would change.

It was about that time that I realized that I didn’t have my (distance) glasses with me for some reason and while not exactly “blind as a bat”, I couldn’t read the road signs until we were right on top of them. Oh, one more little detail, the car was a stick shift. Fortunately there weren’t that many red stop lights because getting the car out of first gear and rolling through the other four was a challenge. Didn’t bother the Lieutenant, he slept through it all; mostly anyway. There was the time the road forked and I guessed the wrong way to go ‘till the last minute – which resulted in some serious braking and ended with the car stalling.

“What’s the matter - is there a problem?”

“No problem, be going in a minute.”

And, after a few minutes and much grinding of the gears, we were. But when we started running into serious traffic, I pulled over, woke the Lieutenant and suggested he drive the rest of the way.

When we met up on Sunday night for the trip back, it was an instant rerun; he was drunk and I was driving.

But we made it.

The Rest of the Story

Aside from that brief experience in the Navy, I didn't really know how to drive a stick shift. That would change a few years after getting my license. I was dating a grammar school teacher, Charlotte, from up in York who drove a Porsche. She would come to Philly on a regular basis to enjoy the city life. We met and dated on a fairly regular basis but in a non-committed sort of way.

One of those dates was to attend a wedding; complete with a reception with people doing what people do on such occasions – drinking too much. Charlotte decided she was too drunk to drive and I should handle it. (What is it with me and drunk drivers, anyway?)

And I did – only losing one fender; the left front one. But she not only forgave me (I did pay the deductable) she taught me how to drive a stick shift. Using that Porsche.

That experience would lead me to buying a few Fiats and one MG GMT. Not all at once but in a serial sort of way. Traded the last Fiat in on a Charger just before that first major gas crisis in the 70s where gas, if you could get it, became very expensive.

It would eventually be necessary to learn how to drive those rental trucks – right up to the largest drivable without requiring a commercial license and including a stick shift now and again. The biggest problem with them was parking; especially backing into a loading platform. Insofar as the "Learning to Drive" experience, not worth talking about all that much.

Thus ends the tale of “Learning to Drive”; stay tuned for another adventure coming soon.

Living Proactively

INTRODUCTION

This is an essay about change. There is a phrase we’ve heard expressed in one way or another that tells us that people don’t change. Not true; people change all the time. But it is from the inside out and almost never from the outside in - which is to say, that apparent love of your life with just a "few improvements" required (from your point of view) will probably not adapt to your design. Even should that person promise to change "just for you", most probably that will also not happen. But if someone wants to "change" for their own benefit, it just might happen.

But the main thrust of this narrative is not so much about “changing” as it is about aligning that image we have of ourselves with how the outside world sees us - more of a change of clothing, so to speak, than a change of personality.

But along with the image, there is the task of living in the world proactively rather than reactively – a matter of living with self-awareness rather than on the automatic pilot of blind habit. This will require work and that may, when the effort is complete, mean you decide to make a few changes. The decision is yours.

It was time to reinvent myself. When I was first discharged from the Navy, I took a four-month vacation that lasted right up ‘till I was offered a job where the pay was just too good to turn down. Of course that job was for a package delivery company – unloading trucks to start, then getting into the union and loading them instead. No planning in any of that; just reacting to what happened to happen.

Then the union went on strike and on a more proactive note, I decided to move on and get another job. In fact I would seek out and get a job as a clerk in an office. And that is what happened; ‘course it meant taking a 50% pay cut in the process but it seemed more in line with an evolving self image that was still less than clear but seemed promising. My Father had always said “don’t worry about the money - that will come; just get your foot in the door and show what you can do”.

There was that brief distraction of getting involved with a part-time adventure as an agent for go-go girls; never mind, another story for another time. It was, however, another example of making reactive decisions.

After about three months in that clerical position I was promoted to supervisor of a small keypunch department; some more months later the company was sold and it was back to looking for a job. But it had certainly been a learning experience.

Quite by accident, in my job search I came upon a position as an Assistant Supervisor in a much larger keypunch department in a much larger company and I reacted by accepting the offer.

Several months and one promotion later, at the age of about 23, I thought it had become the right time to be more proactive and, as said at the start, to reinvent myself. Gone would be that former juvenile delinquent, that deck seaman with an attitude; time to put away the trappings of the child (to paraphrase a bit) and become an adult who wore a suit; lived in an upscale neighborhood in Center City and who would find a way onto the career fast track.

All I had to do was figure out who I was going to become and how I would do that. This would not be the first time I “changed” myself but it would be the most consciously planned. One of those earlier experiences, for example, could be said to be the evolution from reading primarily as entertainment to actively trying to learn something. This would include a diverse variety of material ranging from the ancient Greeks and Romans to more contemporary historians and philosophers.

The problem was that it all sounded “right” to me even when the material was obviously contradictory – I had no critical thinking skills at all. But once that skill became a goal, I have to say, I went overboard. Suddenly I was very critical of everything and everyone – including myself. Thus was born a lifelong habit that more than a few friends and acquaintances found (and find!) very annoying. Giving and receiving criticism had been an effective learning tool for me, I just couldn’t (can’t) seem to learn that others would not find it equally rewarding!

But progress in those early attempts at self-evolution was made, however accidentally, and now it was time to take another step further along the road to re-inventing myself and to do so with self-awareness and planning; i.e., proactively.

A word of caution if you are thinking of trying something similar to this; those who have known you for a while will never accept a “new” you. And the new people in your life may see you as a phony. They’re right, of course, you’re learning a new role and it will take some time to become “at home” in it. At some point you may find it necessary to simply start over. This is proposed more as a cautionary note then as a necessity. Much will depend on the quality of your existing friends and acquaintances. (And by “quality” I simply mean the character of their minds - not their possessions, education or money.)

The key phrase above is “…leaning a new role….”; you are, in fact, learning to play a part – to act and while you are inventing this new “character” it will be helpful to watch television, go to the movies and, best of all, become a dedicated people watcher.

For example; you’ve decided that the image you choose to project is that of an accountant – how are accountants usually portrayed in books, movies, etc.? Not any one accountant in particular; not a “star” accountant; the “usual” stereotype will do just fine to start with. The important thing is to define the role as a “character” and not in terms of a particular actor.

Imagine yourself taking one of those personality tests. Answer the questions not as yourself but as the type of character you’ve chosen would answer them; keep that vision of your character in the forefront of your brain. How do these people get along in the world; how do they dress, walk; talk? Develop your image of this character as completely as you are able to visualize them. Rehearse in your mind as you see yourself as that character.

And then start doing it.

You will need an audience of course. They should be people who are aware of what you are doing and who can be trusted to be honest in their “reviews” of your performances. It would be best if they were not distracted by being good friends of yours. They will be your critics but that doesn’t mean you have to accept everything they tell you.

If, for example, you are told that you are coming across as too ………whatever. Think about it; is it your intent to come across that way? If it is, great; leave your performance alone. But if your intent was to project a different image, well; you’ll have to make some adjustments. In art, it’s okay to expect the audience to have to work at understanding your intentions. But in the real world, it is your responsibility to line up your intentions with your audience’s perceptions.

Now let’s be clear about a few things. It is a certainty that at least some, perhaps most, of the people reading this will have a very negative reaction. They will find it all too “contrived” and unnatural – just be yourself they will say.

Fair enough. But just how did that “self” come to be in the first place? That’s right, you learned how to be you; the behavior was learned; how you dress and walk and talk – even how you think. No, I’m not talking about that formal instruction you may have experienced. There were “role models” which would have varied to some extent based on your generation. In today’s world that would include actors and athletes but more for how they are reported to live their personal lives rather than their professional roles.

There would also have been the written and unwritten “codes of conduct” ranging from broad abstract concepts to the street rules of a very specific neighborhood. You might have studied and learned the many details of these codes or simply absorbed them more by osmosis without thinking about it; “that’s just the way of it” you might have said or heard and knew what was meant by instinct.

Most of the really important stuff, however it was learned, would very soon sink into your unconsciousness; which is to say as acted and reacted habitually without your awareness, let alone your control.

Let’s take the example of how you interact with those around you. As a baby, when you were hungry, your belly hurt and you cried. Before long you would be fed and all was well. After a while, without thinking about it, you might choose to cry even when your belly didn’t hurt. The result would be the same; you were fed. After a while, you unconsciously started making connections: when I do this - that happens but when I do the other, well then, something altogether different occurs.

After a while you figured out that with one big person, you had to do one thing to get what you wanted but with someone else, a different tactic was required. And your development as a manipulator of life around you would continue as your circle of potential influence widened.

Some people went about that process in a very deliberate manner – at least at the start. But after the basic patterns were established, things went along pretty much on automatic for most people. Some, the heavy duty people users, would always operate on a very conscious level and in a very deliberate manner but this particular essay is not about them.

It’s also not for those people who are content with a life lived life unconsciously in a repeating pattern. They would probably not see their life in the context of a series of deeply ingrained habits and even if they did, that reality wouldn’t really bother them. Hey, if that is “working” for them, all is well.

But for those who hadn’t thought about how they became who they are but whom, hey, come to think about it, would like to be in charge of themselves and to live proactively rather by accident. Well then, thought will be required.

As a by-the-bye; it really isn’t necessary to choose a character stereotype from the entertainment world as your model. It is true that it can be a convenient way to think of the process and to formulate a consistent image to emulate. But you should feel free to develop your new self-image in whatever manner works for you. We are, after all, more than merely actors upon the world’s stage – we are, or should be, the Directors.

And, contrary to that cliché about the importance of an “examined life”, it is not absolutely necessary to re-examine your life in detail to find out how you became you.

But there are a few “musts”:

: You must be able to see yourself as others do – in the context of the goal of this essay (aligning the self with the public image) it is their perception, not your intention that counts.

: You must be able to develop an image of how you want them to see you that is consistent with how you want to see yourself.

: You must have a plan for making that transition and work that plan until that becomes your new pattern of habits.

You should also be aware of the possibilities for slipping into a chameleon-like behavior where the situation you find yourself in defines the “role” you adopt. We all do this to some extent, again, mostly without conscious awareness. The question continues to be: how much control do you want to have over your life? The basic presumption is that you have a choice.

Post Script

It is the first impressions that people have of you that will control how they perceive you forever afterwards. The single most important aspect of that meeting will be what you have to say and, most importantly, how you say it. You are encouraged to maintain a certain “chameleon-like” behavior with regard to your vocabulary, i.e.; keep it appropriate to your audience. Also, research has shown that 85% of what we say in normal conversation only requires some 385 words. Do not fall into the trap of grandiloquence (a pompous or lofty manner of speaking or writing). As you can tell from the example just provided, it never fails to be unimpressive.

Holidaying on the Isle of Man

My family was coming to the end of a three-year stay in Ireland. We had managed to see a great deal of that country and I decided it was time for the kids to go somewhere different.

The Isle of Man became the choice. If you’re not familiar with the place, it is a rather small island (33 miles long and some thirteen miles wide) in the Irish Sea more or less midway between Ireland and England. Lots of things to see and do according to the very well produced brochures. So we made reservations and paid in full in advance (use it or lose it) - a ferry trip from Dublin to the Isle and a couple of Bed & Breakfast rooms at what looked like a very charming place.

We lived near Limerick - about six hours or so by car from Dublin. The week before departure, I took the car to the dealer to be checked over. Good advance planning. And at last we were off. All went well until we reached the suburbs of Dublin at which point the car simply died.

There we are, four kids aged from under a year, 4, 8 and 10; the wife and me. With a time limit to catch that ferry coming up all too soon. I suggested the wife go knock on someone’s door and get us a taxi (no time to wait for AAA.) We would take what we could carry and get to the boat. Away she goes.

She comes back with a guy in a van who takes a very thick rope and ties one end to our front bumper and the other to his rear bumper. We hadn’t even been introduced but the wife gets back in the car and explains that the guy with the rope had agreed to tow us to the boat for only (the equivalent of) $140.00. Very soon we were once again on our way; on a rope; through downtown Dublin; buses to the left, lorries(i.e.; trucks) to the right and cars all around. I’m trying to steer a car with power steering and power brakes - and no power. And the guy doing the towing is driving like there was no one behind him.

The kids in the back seat were thrilled to be moving; they were singing. Trying to stay calm, I said, as quietly and as firmly as I could manage, that I did not want to hear a sound from anyone!

And there, all of a sudden it seemed, we were; at the boat where there was a line of cars waiting to get on; The van towing us sort of "swung" us in to near the head of the line and the I managed to stop without hitting anything. While our helper recovered his rope, I explained to a few of the boat’s officers what was happening. They told us to wait for everyone else to get on and than a few of the crew pushed our car up the ramp and into a spot.

We had made it to the ferry, now there was only a 6-hour journey across the Irish Sea (not exactly a calm piece of water) and what should have been the fun part would begin! Fortunately I had had enough sense to book a private cabin because that is where most of the family stayed for the duration. In the bunks as sick as sick they could be. I ventured out and about for a while and it was a sure thing that my little family was not the only people having issues with that crossing.

In due course we did arrive. More for something to do then any expectation of success while waiting to be pushed off the boat, I gave the ignition a try - and the car started! Feeling just about ready to join the kids in singing, off the boat we went to get into line for Customs. Where the car recovered from its temporary state of working to re-die. I pushed, the wife steered and without to many obvious chuckles heard from the sidelines, through Customs we went and into a nearby parking spot.

First things first, call a taxi; the first thing the taxi driver did was look at us - those four kids and two adults, plus luggage - and called another taxi. And then it was off to our Bed and Breakfast. That turned out to be right in the center of town; a little off to the side; near the top of a very steep hill. Entering the lobby, we found the owner in a serious disagreement with a man and his wife. They insisted that they had booked a room on the lower floor; the landlord was equally firm that they had not. I’m standing there holding the baby and trying to maintain order and find some place for all that luggage.

It soon became apparent that the room in dispute was one of mine! My bad day was not getting any better and all I wanted was for it all too just stop. I ended the argument by trading rooms. But I should have asked where the other room was! Yeah; turned out to involve a lot of steps; a fact that had eluded me until the deal was done. And it would be a lot of steps all week along with the fact that our two rooms were now on different floors. Good thing the wife and I weren’t getting along all that well anyway.

Did I mention that there were few days without rain that week? And while the calendar might say July, the average temperature was more like Fall. Not that I want to appear negative! We had some fun. There were the Care Bears live and on stage, those rides on the horse drawn trams and that ride up the mountain on that really neat Victorian railroad system. But aside from those, we really didn’t do all that much that we couldn’t have done in Galway. Of course I am the Vacation Grouch (I would much rather have invested in a large screen TV; something that would physically be around for a while) so you can safely disregard the more negative views.

What about the CAR? Oh, right; much to my surprise, it turned out there was a Fiat Dealer on that little island. They just didn’t have the alternator we needed but they did put in a new battery. So, of course, on the trip home we were almost to Limerick before the car did what? Died; of course. No real hurry at this point so we called AAA. He charged the battery and, fortunately was headed in the same direction we were; I suggested he not get too far ahead of us. It only took two more of those charges before finally getting home.

Now I know you don’t have the benefit of actually hearing me tell this story; if you could, you would know that I laughed my way through most of it. And that makes it all worthwhile. Then again, it would have been a while before you would have heard those laughs.