When I was a child, in the summers I went to Boy Scout camp and church camp. Each camp was a week long and lots of fun. I remember reading some stories about kids who went to camps that lasted for weeks and weeks, even all summer long. I remember wondering if these camps were real. If they were real, where are they, and how do kids get to go to them? I’m 40 and I’m finally learning all about these kinds of camps.
My daughter is going to a camp for a month in south Texas. This is a girl’s camp that started in 1926 and has been doing the same or at least a very similar program every summer for almost 80 years. Macy has been on the waiting list since she was born and this is her first year as Waldemar camper.
For me camp was a week long, and I spent more time worrying about who else was going to be there than I did about what I was taking. Packing wouldn’t start until the night before I left. I was only going to be gone for a week, how much forethought and preparation could there be?
Packing for this camp is a whole different kind of summer camp packing than I’ve ever done before. Maybe I’m slow, but I had a hard time getting the whole “4-week camp” idea through my head.
In my defense, there are two really big differences between this type of camp packing and the type of camp packing I've done.
Difference number 1: How long you’ll be gone.
For me, this was the obvious difference. When you’re packing for a week at camp and you forget something, no big deal. What can you possibly forget that you can’t easily borrow from a buddy, or simply due without for few days?
Not so for a month long camp. This is more akin to moving that it is to going to camp.
Difference number 2: The gender of the camper.
This is packing for a cute little girl, not some grubby boy.
What boys need can be packed easily into a small backpack or tote bag. Underwear, shorts, t-shirts, socks, shoes and a toothbrush are about all a boy needs for camp. To tell the truth he really doesn’t even need an outfit for each day, since he’ll probably only change about once every other day anyway.
Girls, on the other hand, need LOTS of stuff. Understand that my daughter doesn’t actually leave for camp until July 8, but we’ve been shopping for camp stuff the entire month of June! While we aren't shopping every day, finding camp stuff has been on our minds since before school was out.
It’s funny, but as foreign as this kind of camp packing is to me, I find myself really getting carried away with it. It’s all too easy for me to get caught up in the whole checking the list (Yes, we have a list!) and making sure she has the stuff laid out and ready to actually put into her trunk.
With only a week left before I put my little darling on the bus that heads from Dallas to south Texas, I find myself finally having the chance to realize that I won’t see her for a whole month. Quite possibly all the packing has been a much-needed distraction from the truth…maybe that’s how it’s designed.
I’ve got plenty of projects here and at my parent’s new house to keep my mind occupied while she’s gone, as well as some long overdue vacation time for just Melissa and me. I guess we’ll see how well I hold up.
I’ll keep you posted.
Thursday, June 30, 2005
Closed Head Injury and Anger - Removed
On June 29, I posted a piece called Closed Head Injury and Anger. It was up for less than a day, didn’t have any comments yet and I don’t believe had been read by many people. (Not that anything of mine is read my huge throngs of people, but relatively speaking, not may people have viewed it yet)
Anyway, I was rereading it online, and suddenly I didn’t like it anymore. I don’t know exactly want it was that stuck in my craw, but there was a vibe that I didn’t care for.
So I removed it.
I’ll keep working on it and repost it again, hopefully in the near future.
Thanks for understanding.
Hugh
Anyway, I was rereading it online, and suddenly I didn’t like it anymore. I don’t know exactly want it was that stuck in my craw, but there was a vibe that I didn’t care for.
So I removed it.
I’ll keep working on it and repost it again, hopefully in the near future.
Thanks for understanding.
Hugh
Wednesday, June 15, 2005
Bernard's Taxi Service
We docked in St. Thomas early in the morning before anyone was awake. After a quick breakfast, we busily prepared for a day of sightseeing and shopping, but we had no idea what we were about to meet Bernard.
After taking the ship’s shuttle into downtown, we found ourselves in a sea of island natives, each struggling to make a living off naïve tourists all too willing to fork over big bucks for anything even remotely tropical looking.
There we stood, all 10 of us huddled together discussing our next move. Each voice blurting out must see locations or attractions.
That’s when Bernard approached. Bernard is a six foot black man in his late 20’s or early 30’s. He was neatly dressed, wearing glasses and an NYPD cap. He gave us all a big smile and offered to help with directions at “No Charge!”
After listening to the different places we wanted to visit, he produced a map out of nowhere and began helping us plan the day’s adventures. After giving us the Insider’s Scoop on the which beaches we would probably want to see, he made his smooth transition from Good Samaritan to Polished Businessman.
Pointing toward a row of cars and trucks with seating for up to 20 he said, “First thing you’re going to need to do is catch one of those cabs and head to Magen’s Beach. It’s one of the top 10 beaches in the world.” Then came the well-practiced pitch.
“Of course, with a group this size it’s going to cost you about 15 bucks a person each way. And that’s assuming you only want to go to that beach and straight back here. If you’d like, I could take you on a tour of the island, hit some really great spots, and take you to the beach. Later, we’ll end up back here in downtown where you can do some shopping, then I’ll take you all back to your boat. I’ll do all that for only 20 bucks a head…round trip.”
We asked him to give us a minute he nodded and politely backed off. Far enough so that it didn’t look like he was listening, but not so far the he couldn’t hear what we were saying. After a brief discussion and a group consensus that we really like Bernard, we took him up on his offer.
Oddly enough, Bernard seemed genuinely happy to show these American tourists a good time. He told us to pay him after the tour was complete, showed us where to buy some water, loaded us in the truck and we took off.
Along the way up (pretty much everything is up on these islands) he used the PA system and gave us a brief but thorough history of the island. He pointed out different landmarks we could see every now and again as we eased our way up the inclined, cut-back roads that made the serpentine path up and over to the other side of the island.
We stopped at a spot that Bernard said was one of his favorite photos spots on the whole island. As we climbed out of the truck we were face to face with an amazing view. Standing on a small cement wall that had been constructed as a kind of last chance barrier for any motorist unfamiliar with the road, we were overlooking a beautiful mountainside. It was a truly spectacular sight.
From this angle, the road we had been traveling on wasn’t even visible, but the view of the city and the port was spectacular. A lush green mountainside spotted with the occasional house. As we took pictures, Bernard pointed out different landmarks and celebrities’ homes. It was very intriguing to me that Bernard seemed to know the value of most of the homes along the tour. Maybe they were published in some kind of cab driver’s guide to the island.
It was on one of these types of stops that I noticed what was painted on the side of Bernard’s taxi. On an outside panel between two of the rows of seats it said, “Salvation is of the Jews.”
After getting back in the truck and heading off down the road, Melissa, who had also noticed the sign, and I started discussing the theological implications of such a message, as well as Bernard’s purpose for writing this on the side of his cab.
That’s when Russ, my brother-in-law, commented, “Did you see the driver’s side door?”
On the door Bernard had painted a picture of the Israeli flag and a bible.
This was a 2004 or 2005 Ford F-450, a big truck. It has a specially built, covered bed with five rows of seats that each held four to six people. It was easy to see that Bernard has some big dollars invested in his business.
As for the pictures, these weren’t stickers, or some hastily painted first grade quality, one-dimensional drawings. Both the Salvation is of the Jews sign, as well as the flag and bible were professionally done works of art. The quality reminded me of the spectacular car art you only see at car shows or in magazines.
At this point Russ entered the discussion. We tried to figure out if Bernard was Jewish, or if he was simply trying to cover all the bases for the tourists. After discussing it for a while and not coming up with any good answers, we decided to simply ask Bernard at the end of our tour. I mean, if you put that on the side of your taxi you gotta be prepared for questions.
When we got back into the city to do our last bit of shopping before heading back to the boat, I turned to Bernard and said, “I have to ask you one question.”
He gave me nod, a knowing smile and said, “Shoot!”
“The pictures on the door and the Salvation is of the Jews sign were a bit confusing for us. If you’re Jewish, then why have the bible? If you’re not Jewish, then why have all the other?”
Bernard leaned on the taxi, took off his cap and said, “I’m not Jewish, but I am an adopted Jew. You see, Jesus, my savior, he is a Jew and the bible was written by Jews. So when I made my profession of faith and joined the family of God, in a sense I became a Jew. The reason I put these symbols on my taxi is to give me chances in my everyday life to tell people just like you about my Lord and Savior.”
I don’t have to tell you that I was quite impressed with Bernard. While I did the calculations and figured out that, depending on the number of people he takes on each tour, Bernard makes somewhere between 60 and 150 dollars an hour. While that ain't chump change, I don’t think he’s in it only for the money.
Sure the money’s nice…I guess, but after watching some of the other cabbies who, if they spoke English at all, didn’t really talk with the passengers. They all seemed to be more about quantity than quality.
I like to believe that Bernard discovered along the way that being friendly and helping his customers have a good time was not only a good way of doing business, but it made his life much better.
My mother-in-law and father-in-law surprised us by paying for the whole family’s tour, tip and all. However, as he dropped us off back at the ship, Macy wanted to give him a tip that was just from her. Handing him a five-dollar bill she said, "Thank you Mr. Bernard."
He held up his hand and shook his head, “It’s all taken care of little one.”
She told him it was just from her. He smiled, gave her a hug and accepted the money.
I may never go back to St. Thomas, but if I do you’ll find me in the back of a blue cab with Salvation is of the Jews painted on the side.
Bernard’s Taxi Service
“Breathtaking View of the Island”
Specializing in Beach Excursions and Tours of the Island
Bernard Clovis – Manager
(340) 643-0694
(340) 775-4333
After taking the ship’s shuttle into downtown, we found ourselves in a sea of island natives, each struggling to make a living off naïve tourists all too willing to fork over big bucks for anything even remotely tropical looking.
There we stood, all 10 of us huddled together discussing our next move. Each voice blurting out must see locations or attractions.
That’s when Bernard approached. Bernard is a six foot black man in his late 20’s or early 30’s. He was neatly dressed, wearing glasses and an NYPD cap. He gave us all a big smile and offered to help with directions at “No Charge!”
After listening to the different places we wanted to visit, he produced a map out of nowhere and began helping us plan the day’s adventures. After giving us the Insider’s Scoop on the which beaches we would probably want to see, he made his smooth transition from Good Samaritan to Polished Businessman.
Pointing toward a row of cars and trucks with seating for up to 20 he said, “First thing you’re going to need to do is catch one of those cabs and head to Magen’s Beach. It’s one of the top 10 beaches in the world.” Then came the well-practiced pitch.
“Of course, with a group this size it’s going to cost you about 15 bucks a person each way. And that’s assuming you only want to go to that beach and straight back here. If you’d like, I could take you on a tour of the island, hit some really great spots, and take you to the beach. Later, we’ll end up back here in downtown where you can do some shopping, then I’ll take you all back to your boat. I’ll do all that for only 20 bucks a head…round trip.”
We asked him to give us a minute he nodded and politely backed off. Far enough so that it didn’t look like he was listening, but not so far the he couldn’t hear what we were saying. After a brief discussion and a group consensus that we really like Bernard, we took him up on his offer.
Oddly enough, Bernard seemed genuinely happy to show these American tourists a good time. He told us to pay him after the tour was complete, showed us where to buy some water, loaded us in the truck and we took off.
Along the way up (pretty much everything is up on these islands) he used the PA system and gave us a brief but thorough history of the island. He pointed out different landmarks we could see every now and again as we eased our way up the inclined, cut-back roads that made the serpentine path up and over to the other side of the island.
We stopped at a spot that Bernard said was one of his favorite photos spots on the whole island. As we climbed out of the truck we were face to face with an amazing view. Standing on a small cement wall that had been constructed as a kind of last chance barrier for any motorist unfamiliar with the road, we were overlooking a beautiful mountainside. It was a truly spectacular sight.
From this angle, the road we had been traveling on wasn’t even visible, but the view of the city and the port was spectacular. A lush green mountainside spotted with the occasional house. As we took pictures, Bernard pointed out different landmarks and celebrities’ homes. It was very intriguing to me that Bernard seemed to know the value of most of the homes along the tour. Maybe they were published in some kind of cab driver’s guide to the island.
It was on one of these types of stops that I noticed what was painted on the side of Bernard’s taxi. On an outside panel between two of the rows of seats it said, “Salvation is of the Jews.”
After getting back in the truck and heading off down the road, Melissa, who had also noticed the sign, and I started discussing the theological implications of such a message, as well as Bernard’s purpose for writing this on the side of his cab.
That’s when Russ, my brother-in-law, commented, “Did you see the driver’s side door?”
On the door Bernard had painted a picture of the Israeli flag and a bible.
This was a 2004 or 2005 Ford F-450, a big truck. It has a specially built, covered bed with five rows of seats that each held four to six people. It was easy to see that Bernard has some big dollars invested in his business.
As for the pictures, these weren’t stickers, or some hastily painted first grade quality, one-dimensional drawings. Both the Salvation is of the Jews sign, as well as the flag and bible were professionally done works of art. The quality reminded me of the spectacular car art you only see at car shows or in magazines.
At this point Russ entered the discussion. We tried to figure out if Bernard was Jewish, or if he was simply trying to cover all the bases for the tourists. After discussing it for a while and not coming up with any good answers, we decided to simply ask Bernard at the end of our tour. I mean, if you put that on the side of your taxi you gotta be prepared for questions.
When we got back into the city to do our last bit of shopping before heading back to the boat, I turned to Bernard and said, “I have to ask you one question.”
He gave me nod, a knowing smile and said, “Shoot!”
“The pictures on the door and the Salvation is of the Jews sign were a bit confusing for us. If you’re Jewish, then why have the bible? If you’re not Jewish, then why have all the other?”
Bernard leaned on the taxi, took off his cap and said, “I’m not Jewish, but I am an adopted Jew. You see, Jesus, my savior, he is a Jew and the bible was written by Jews. So when I made my profession of faith and joined the family of God, in a sense I became a Jew. The reason I put these symbols on my taxi is to give me chances in my everyday life to tell people just like you about my Lord and Savior.”
I don’t have to tell you that I was quite impressed with Bernard. While I did the calculations and figured out that, depending on the number of people he takes on each tour, Bernard makes somewhere between 60 and 150 dollars an hour. While that ain't chump change, I don’t think he’s in it only for the money.
Sure the money’s nice…I guess, but after watching some of the other cabbies who, if they spoke English at all, didn’t really talk with the passengers. They all seemed to be more about quantity than quality.
I like to believe that Bernard discovered along the way that being friendly and helping his customers have a good time was not only a good way of doing business, but it made his life much better.
My mother-in-law and father-in-law surprised us by paying for the whole family’s tour, tip and all. However, as he dropped us off back at the ship, Macy wanted to give him a tip that was just from her. Handing him a five-dollar bill she said, "Thank you Mr. Bernard."
He held up his hand and shook his head, “It’s all taken care of little one.”
She told him it was just from her. He smiled, gave her a hug and accepted the money.
I may never go back to St. Thomas, but if I do you’ll find me in the back of a blue cab with Salvation is of the Jews painted on the side.
Note: If you’re going to be in St. Thomas give Bernard’s Taxi Service a call. I know you’ll have a great time.
Bernard’s Taxi Service
“Breathtaking View of the Island”
Specializing in Beach Excursions and Tours of the Island
Bernard Clovis – Manager
(340) 643-0694
(340) 775-4333
Tell him Hugh sent you. He probably won’t remember me…but who knows.
Wednesday, June 08, 2005
Sea Legs
The Valor is the largest of Carnival's 19 ships. However, as big as she is, the constant rocking still takes a little getting used to, but I think I've finally got my "Sea Legs."
On Nassau, (I know I misspelled it) we got to swim with dolphins...it was better than I could have imagined.
I tend to lose track of what day it is during the summer months, and going on vacation only make it worse. That being said, I think it's Wednesday and we're stopping at St. Thomas today.
Just to keep you up to speed - I'm tan, I'm relaxed, and baby, I'm happy...what more do I need?
I'll keep you posted.
On Nassau, (I know I misspelled it) we got to swim with dolphins...it was better than I could have imagined.
I tend to lose track of what day it is during the summer months, and going on vacation only make it worse. That being said, I think it's Wednesday and we're stopping at St. Thomas today.
Just to keep you up to speed - I'm tan, I'm relaxed, and baby, I'm happy...what more do I need?
I'll keep you posted.
Thursday, June 02, 2005
Cruisin' For a Good Time
My wife’s side of the family is taking a cruise together on the Carnival ship Valor. You can check it out here. We’re going to the Easter Caribbean and stopping at St. Thomas, St. Martin and Nassau. I’m having a hard time keeping my mind on anything at home, so I guess it’s a good thing school is out.
There are 10 of us in all, and we do a lot of traveling together. There are some people who I can’t imagine spending that much time with, but the 10 of us get along well and just seem to always have a great time on these kind of excursions…knock on wood!
I’ve only been on one other cruise and it was about 5 years ago. These ships have several pools, gambling, shopping, all kinds of nightly shows, more food than you can imagine and much more. I’m looking forward to just laying in the sun, reading a book and having people bring me drinks.
For Melissa’s birthday her mother gave her a dolphin adventure package on one of our stops. So at one of the ports we’ll get to pet and swim with the dolphins. Melissa loves animals, especially dolphins and this has been a dream for many years.
There’s free email and internet access on the ship so I may even post something while I’m gone…but don’t count on it.
When I get back I’ll be tan, I’ll be rested and I’ll be ready to attack my list of honey-do’s.
Bon Voyage
There are 10 of us in all, and we do a lot of traveling together. There are some people who I can’t imagine spending that much time with, but the 10 of us get along well and just seem to always have a great time on these kind of excursions…knock on wood!
I’ve only been on one other cruise and it was about 5 years ago. These ships have several pools, gambling, shopping, all kinds of nightly shows, more food than you can imagine and much more. I’m looking forward to just laying in the sun, reading a book and having people bring me drinks.
For Melissa’s birthday her mother gave her a dolphin adventure package on one of our stops. So at one of the ports we’ll get to pet and swim with the dolphins. Melissa loves animals, especially dolphins and this has been a dream for many years.
There’s free email and internet access on the ship so I may even post something while I’m gone…but don’t count on it.
When I get back I’ll be tan, I’ll be rested and I’ll be ready to attack my list of honey-do’s.
Bon Voyage
Wednesday, June 01, 2005
Summertime Misconceptions
“Man, it must be nice to have the whole summer off!”
I just finished my 11th year of teaching and I wouldn’t trade my occupation for anything in the world.
When I first got into this field I had dreams of long glorious summers filled with nothing but fun and relaxation. However, I quickly learned that my summers are not nearly as glorious and fun filled as I had imagined. Summers are simply a break.
Growing up summer was basically time off from any and all responsibility. I got to sleep late, play hard, stay out late and then sleep late again the next day.
Sure, I had to cut the yard and keep my room fairly clean, but all of that was fairly trivial. As I got into high school, I would work during the day and pick up my lazy routine each night. But summer jobs for a teenager are nothing if not easy. You go, work your assigned hours and then go home. There’s nothing to take home and think about later.
I grew up with a father who is a pastor. I knew that sometimes the phone rings in the middle of the night. I also understood that when it did, Dad was probably going to have get up and leave. You can’t be a pastor and leave your work at the office, because you’re never off duty.
In many ways teaching is like that.
Sure, I take papers and report cards home on occasion to grade and fill out, but that’s not what I’m talking about. My lessons and my class dynamics are forever in my mind. These thoughts aren’t passively filed back somewhere under Other or To-Do. Oh, no, they’re right they’re in the forefront actively taking up space.
“Man, it must be nice to have the whole summer off!” If I’ve heard it once I’ve heard it a thousand times, but that’s a comment made by people who do not understand.
They do not understand that I pour myself into teaching every day.
They do not understand that I can’t just pop down to the bathroom whenever I want.
They do not understand that I can’t sit idly by while a student’s home life falls to pieces.
They do not understand that for nine months I eat, I drink, I sleep and I breathe teaching.
They do not understand.
So what are summers?
Summers are simply a break. Two months that I get to be only a husband, only a father, only a person who’s getting a much-needed break from an otherwise very hectic existence.
Summer is time for me revitalize and get ready for next year.
I just finished my 11th year of teaching and I wouldn’t trade my occupation for anything in the world.
When I first got into this field I had dreams of long glorious summers filled with nothing but fun and relaxation. However, I quickly learned that my summers are not nearly as glorious and fun filled as I had imagined. Summers are simply a break.
Growing up summer was basically time off from any and all responsibility. I got to sleep late, play hard, stay out late and then sleep late again the next day.
Sure, I had to cut the yard and keep my room fairly clean, but all of that was fairly trivial. As I got into high school, I would work during the day and pick up my lazy routine each night. But summer jobs for a teenager are nothing if not easy. You go, work your assigned hours and then go home. There’s nothing to take home and think about later.
I grew up with a father who is a pastor. I knew that sometimes the phone rings in the middle of the night. I also understood that when it did, Dad was probably going to have get up and leave. You can’t be a pastor and leave your work at the office, because you’re never off duty.
In many ways teaching is like that.
Sure, I take papers and report cards home on occasion to grade and fill out, but that’s not what I’m talking about. My lessons and my class dynamics are forever in my mind. These thoughts aren’t passively filed back somewhere under Other or To-Do. Oh, no, they’re right they’re in the forefront actively taking up space.
“Man, it must be nice to have the whole summer off!” If I’ve heard it once I’ve heard it a thousand times, but that’s a comment made by people who do not understand.
They do not understand that I pour myself into teaching every day.
They do not understand that I can’t just pop down to the bathroom whenever I want.
They do not understand that I can’t sit idly by while a student’s home life falls to pieces.
They do not understand that for nine months I eat, I drink, I sleep and I breathe teaching.
They do not understand.
So what are summers?
Summers are simply a break. Two months that I get to be only a husband, only a father, only a person who’s getting a much-needed break from an otherwise very hectic existence.
Summer is time for me revitalize and get ready for next year.
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