She did it!

      Paula is one of the most consistent, tenacious and organized people I have ever known.  Our sister-in-law (one of her closest friends) saw this card, bought it, brought it home and asked her kids, "Who does this remind you of?"  With no prompting, they answered in unison, "Aunt Paula!"

     There are things that bother her that don't cause me any problem (which speaks badly for me, by the way) such as:

or

or

      She pointed out that in addition to the corner of the sheet being out in the picture above, there was NO MATTRESS PAD!!

     This has been great in our married life....mostly.  It means that the house is always neat, the weeds are pulled and the spices are in alphabetical order.  Of course!  Who would dare do otherwise with spices?!

     Note:  I was sternly reprimanded for leaving the cabinet doors open taking that picture.

     The wash is done and neatly folded so that all the towels are stacked the same way.  The pictures are all straight and there are "hospital corners" when the beds are made.  I've been informed that at times I don't stack my jeans the right way, and she will take them out and arrange them correctly.

     Let me emphasize that this is almost always to the good.  Our home has a quiet and peaceful spirit, and while I laugh and give her grief on occasion, I consider myself lucky to be married to her for this and a million other reasons.

     As you've read before, we spent almost five years in South America, and through a LOT of hard and persistent work, she became fluent in Spanish.  She spoke over 300 times in various public meetings and never required a translator.

     We've been home now for nine years, and starting soon after that, Paula signed up for the DuoLingo app.  She says that learning the language was the hardest thing she's ever done, and doesn't want to lose it.  Consistent with her persistence and diligence, she almost never misses a day to "feed the owl," the way the app refers to the daily task.  (Because of her diligence, she can skip very occasionally if we're en route to Kazakhstan or something.)

     So, she made it!  Three thousand days in a row!

    She was asked, "So, what now?"  "4,000 days!  Duh!"

    Not long ago, a friend of a grandson bragged that he had a 200-day streak on DuoLingo.  Nathan laughed and said, "OK, my grandmother is closing in on 3K.  My GRANDMOTHER!"  Take that!

     I have to admit that although I laugh a lot about it, Paula's persistence, diligence and organization are one of the reasons that I love her.  I'll post again when she hits 4,000.  And then 5,000.

Dave

Be careful who you pick for friends

      Because you may have them for a looonnng time.  

     I graduated from the Medical College of Virginia (now VCU School of Medicine) in 1981.  

     During my four years there, I made a lot of good friendships and actually had a lot of fun - mixed in with a lot of hard work, long hours, scary situations, sad outcomes, and...you've heard about the rest.

     The first two years of med school were mostly spent in the classroom, with a few early exposures to patients.  However, the third year, we were thrown in the deep end of the pool without our floaty wings.  The class divided itself into twelve groups to begin the clinical rotations, and these groups formed more-or-less organically.  My friends and I declared ourselves to be "Group 12."

     One of our gang was from my congregation at church in Northern Virginia and I'd known him since about five years old.  Another interviewed at MCV the same day I did in 1976, a couple of months before I met Paula at BYU.  Several were accomplished musicians, and we began meeting at someone's house after big tests to overeat and play music.  I was honored to play alto sax (poorly) a couple of times with the band that was formed, The Cyanotic Blues Band (get the joke?  "Cyanotic" means "blue" - OK not that funny.)

     At the end of medical school, we scattered to residencies in just about all the big branches of medicine.

      We thought we'd had it tough in med school, but as interns and residents we were tossed in the deep end without a life jacket, and this time there were a couple of cinder blocks tied to our ankles and there was someone standing on our head.  

     After THAT was over, just working 70 hours a week felt like a vacation, and we even got PAID!  Woo-hoo!  

     However, over the years Group 12 devolved in to Christmas cards and an occasional visit if we happened to be in that part of the country. 

     Those with whom I was closest have turned out well.  One has been the chief of staff at one of the most prestigious hospital systems in California.  

Another is a professor of anesthesiology at a top-tier medical school, was the head of the national academy of pain specialists, and has testified in Congress concerning hospice care.   

The one with whom I've remained closest became a senior partner in a large ophthalmology practice (and a really good kiteboarder!)  

 Meanwhile, I hung out and caught babies.

     But we're all getting older and are beginning to feel it.  Cancer, serial orthopedic difficulties and what we look like in the mirror have made that clear.  So someone finally called time out for a huddle.

    And it was great!  All four of us are still married - and to our first wives!  We met at the beautiful home of  our buddy in San Diego and took in a Padres game.  Yeah, they lost, but the hot dogs were great and we laughed a lot.

      We toured some good restaurants in San Diego and ate far too much!

      We hit the San Diego zoo!  That's Paula on the left.  (She didn't eat THAT much!)

     We watched the video of our senior med school "Take-offs" in which we made fun of our attending physicians and played some pretty good music, and we laughed some more!

     It was a great four days, but the best part was seeing that everyone had stayed on course.  We all had honorable careers and had stayed true to our ethical bedrock, which may have been naive at first but which proved in the long run to be the right way to go.  

     Do it all over again?  Are you NUTS?  But feel blessed to have found such honorable life-long friends?  Absolutely.  

     So, be careful who you pick for friends.  They may be with you a lot longer than you think.   

Dave & Paula

And now, something really nice

      Our daughter Ashley lives in Astana, Kazakhstan with her husband and (now) six kids.  Kathleen, their oldest, left last August to begin college at Brigham Young University - Idaho,. As part of the financial agreement with her parents she found a job cleaning university buildings on the 4:30 AM (!) custodial crew shift.

    As luck would have it, an honorable young man from Indiana was also on that slacker shift, and they became friends, then serious friends, then girlfriend/boyfriend and finally affianced by early 2025.  We were sent by her concerned parents during our November trip to Utah to check this guy out, and we reassured her folks that he seemed OK.

      We were calmed by a) he was putting himself through school, and anyone willing to do custodial work at 4:30 AM gets some points, b) he drives a 1996 Camry, which earns both he and Toyota some more points, c) he served a mission for the Church in the Philippines (add some points), d) he has six sisters (more points plus automatic admission to heaven for surviving THAT), and most importantly, e) he seemed a gentleman and treated our granddaughter kindly.

    So the wedding plans were on.  Initially, the rest of the family would come to the States in July for their between-country break, attend the wedding and then decamp to the annual joyous family mess on a NC beach.  However, Kathleen and Brian moved the date back to April at the end of the BYU-I winter semester.  This meant some serious travel for the remaining eight back in Central Asia, but hey...

     Our daughter wisely rented a great big Air BnB in Rexburg, ID, home of BYU-I and the gang arrived a few days before to find their luggage, the house, and some degree of sanity after a 30-hour sojourn from Kazakhstan.  Others in the family also gathered.  There were pots of pasta, games, kids, laughter and a lot of love for the two days prior to the Big Deal.  

     And finally the Big Deal itself, on Thursday April 10th.  Everyone got spiffed up and looked great.

 

    They piled into the cars in their usual dignified fashion and headed for the Rexburg, Idaho temple of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints.

     The ceremony itself went well; no one fainted, Kathleen and Brian both said "Yes," and emerged a new married couple.  Kathleen honored her mother (and saved some serious custodial earnings) by using her mother's wedding dress, which her mother had borrowed from her sister, and...

 

     And then picture time!  It may be considered kind of the draggy part of a wedding, but it was honestly fun hanging out and talking on a beautiful day.

 

 

     We had to leave the Air BnB by 10:00 AM that morning, which was before the wedding, so after a nice noisy big luncheon, the family headed to cousin Stephen and Sarah's house in Rexburg, where they packed up their pretty clothes and started the long trip back to Kazakhstan.  

 

     This is the real stuff in an otherwise confusing world.   Conflicts rage, politics do strange things, people try to figure out how to be happy, and in the end, what really matters are the simple things - our relationships with others and just being good. 

     We feel humbly blessed that another bond in our beloved family has been forged.

Dave & Paula 

The Trifecta!

      We're at Cape Hatteras, North Carolina for this year's Old Guys' Kite Camp, Spring Edition.  The wind has been great, and we've kited every day but Sunday.  That's because it's The Day of Rest, and that was very welcome!  

    A "downwinder" in kiteboarding is kind of what the name implies.  A group of 'kiters' gets together and plots a course generally downwind and sets out.  One of the best known downwinders on Hatteras Island is known as "Planet of the Apes," after the memorable movie of the same name in 1968.

    What does "Planet of the Apes" have to do with a bunch of crazed kiters doing a downwinder?  I'm not really sure, but the usual explanation has to do with the impenetrable marine forest between the edge of the Pamlico Sound where one would do the downwinder and Highway 12.  That's the somewhat-sketchy two-lane road running the length of Hatteras.

    This road is at the mercy of the storms that frequently hit the Outer Banks.

    Anyway, back to the downwinder, there's a section of the marine forest between the water behind the island (the Pamlico Sound) and the road that you really, really can't get through.  Quoting a guide to downwinders, 

    "Planet of the Apes easily takes the position of best flatwater run in the world." 

    "Planet got its name due to the remote location and lack of easy egress if you break down or if the wind dies. Cutting back to the road from Planet is not recommended and has only been completed by one rider." 

      Yeah, one rider that they're aware of.  Archaeologists will someday discover the remains of others, complete with their kiteboards and decomposing kites who weren't able to cut their way back to the road.  

    Anyway, it looked like a day with good, dependable southwest wind, and the suggestion was made and accepted to "Do Planet!"  

    Departure time was agreed as 9:00 AM.  Which meant we were actually on the road by 10:15 AM because someone had to take a call from their job, someone else forgot a kite, blah, blah, blah.  This may actually be a new worlds record, as agreed-upon times have little to do with reality on a downwinder.

    Along with the incontrovertible rule that downwinders never start on time, and the almost-incontrovertible rule that you cannot hack your way through the marine forest and save yourself from Planet of the Apes, there is a completely-incontrovertible law that says something is always going to mess up on a downwinder, and sure enough, the first person that launched his kite launched it right into a tree in the middle of a briar patch.  It was extricated and seemed to be OK....(foreshadowing).

    The group finally set off by about 11, complete with waterproof walkie-talkies, which weren't, and which helped increase the general level of confusion when they were actually used.  

    OK, now the foreshadowing.  Sure enough, by halfway through the six-mile course, the rescued kite had gone limp and fallen from the sky.  It had developed a slow leak from the above-mentioned trip into the briar patch.  There were now only limited alternatives:

    1.  Have the victim roll up the kite and lines and slog through the marshy water for several hours to escape Planet.

    2.  Try to cut through the marine forest between the Sound and Highway 12, thus contributing his body to the interest of some archaeologist in some century to come.  

    3.  Cast lots among the other members of the group for items of the victim's equipment, and THEN let him try to cut his way through the forest. 

    4.  Call the Coast Guard for a helicopter rescue of the victim.  Ooops.  DOGE has cut funds.  No longer an option.  

    It was close, but we opted for #1.  You know, humanity and all that.  

    So, the unfortunate member of the group rolled his stuff up and set off.  My brother Mark and I kited back and forth keeping an eye on him, and he finally made it to a point where he could emerge from Planet.

    So what's this about a trifecta?  #1 - something malfunctioned (see above-mentioned leaking kite and 'waterproof' radios), #2 - someone got hurt (does a really, really sunburned nose count?) and #3 someone had to walk out of Planet.

    We hope that your downwinders go smoothly.  And if they don't (and they won't) don't try to cut your way back to Highway 12.  Just start slogging.

Dave & Paula

You have to do SOMETHING! (Part 2)

      So, what do you do if you're in a superb kiteboarding location?  You go kiteboarding!  Duh!  OK, what if you're in a superb kiteboarding location AND there's a full moon?  You go kiteboarding!  Double Duh!

     We found ourselves in such a situation last week, once again in the company of my brother Mark and  "Uncle" Winston from medical school, as well as a friend of Mark's and our long-suffering wives.  Several years ago Paula found an affordable beachfront house in Turks and Caicos at the premier kite location.  Yes, I know, "affordable beachfront" and "Turks and Caicos" are rarely found in the same sentence.

     If you'd like to rent the house, complete with it's own beach and buckets of wind, it's name is, uh, lemme see, uh, Pacific Northwest Dangerous Creature House With Homicidal Neighbors, complete with rats, mosquitos, loud parties and outdoor plumbing.  And Paula has it rented through 2055 so fuggetaboutit!

    And also, just to warn you, this place has ugly water,

unattractive sunrises,

and other disadvantages too numerous to mention, so just move along citizens, nothing to see here.

    Back to the moonlight thing.  On our first trip to Turks and Caicos six years ago, we tried moonlight kiting, and although I didn't have much success, my brother and a friend had a great time and raved about the experience.  However, they did comment, (Spoiler Alert!) that it was a bit hazardous owing to the fact that you couldn't see the other guy kiting.  I guess that's because of the whole "in-the-dark" thing.

    This year, there was to be a full moon several nights before ending the trip to this place that you don't want to visit, and the wind turned out to be perfect.  

    Luckily, the shallow, wide bay in front of the (undesirable!) house is without any obstructions.  Also, as far as we could tell, there are no official marine regulations in Turks and Caicos against moonlight kiteboarding, and we decided to ignore the more universal common-sense suggestions against it.  Note: it's likely that humans haven't had time to evolve common sense about kiting at night since they've only been kiting at all for a couple of decades.  It may take some time to get that into the gene pool.  

    Or perhaps our judgment might have been affected by our diet during the trip.  As busy as we were on the water, we only found time to consume six gallons of ice cream, two dozen dozen cookies, a giant birthday cake, a half-dozen pizzas and some other well-known brain foods.

    Having checked the lunar phases (see above) we wisely reasoned that the full moon would be at night, so we prepared carefully; after all, our safety is priceless.  We went on Amazon and found the cheapest LED's that promised to be waterproof, knowing that whatever they promise on that site has got to be true.  Right?   

    On the appointed night, with a beautiful full moon rising in an almost cloudless sky, we carried our gear down to the beach and set up.

    There was a brief but heated discussion about which side of a kitesurfing kite was port (red light) and starboard (green light), but soon all was ready.  I got to be the guinea pig.

    It was simply other-worldly zooming along out over the dark water.  The actual kiting mechanics were just like during the day, but the scene...WOW!  "Ethereal" doesn't even come close.  Pretty soon, my turn was up, and I handed my kite off to my brother.

     He and the other two common-sense-deficient friends sailed the bay for the next hour or so.  The lights on the boards and kites were exactly the ticket; to us back on the beach it looked like an infestation of large, mutant fireflies out on the bay.

     Maybe seventy years hasn't been long enough to develop that common-sense thing, but the moonlight kiting session was the outstanding ending of an otherwise cool trip.  It was just plain great laughing and sharing such a unique experience with good friends.   

    We hope that you also continue to do some dumb stuff that stamps your timeline with the occasional exclamation point.  Just remember to stock up on the LED lights early - the threatened tariffs may jack up the price!  

Dave & Paula

Christmas trees

      We lived on a sort-of farm in (then) rural Fairfax County from when I was four years old until we moved to McLean, VA in sixth grade.  The house included a room with a 10-foot ceiling, unusual in the 60's, and a wall facing east that was completely windows; the room was known as 'the sun room.'

    At Christmas, my dad would slog out in the woods and capture a tree to decorate.  Even with the high ceiling, he'd usually have to cut a couple of feet off the top or the bottom to make it fit.   

    A few days before Christmas one year, George the Dog and I were lying on the sofa in the sun room admiring the decorated tree when I noticed that it was beginning to lean forward, and to my horror it crashed onto the hardwood floor, shattering any number of ornaments.  George and I got blamed, but I will promise to the end that I didn't do it.  George, despite intense interrogation also never admitted to the crime.  

    My mom, always one to change the rules in the middle of the game, decided that we could all open one present on Christmas Eve, so after the usual church thing that night we'd hustle home and do so. 

    Paula and I married in August 1977, and I continued the tradition of questionable DIY-harvested Christmas trees, of which Charles Brown would be proud.

 

    Paula, as her expression may indicate, was not impressed and in an after-Christmas sale at Zayre (yes, it was that long ago) picked up a fake tree, and we've had one ever since.  Her family in Oregon, however, kept on culling sad ones out of the forest.  And yes, I used to have hair.  And a 70's mustache, etc.  Lay off, OK?  It was cool back then.  I promise.

 

      She had been wise picking up a fantastic-plastic tree - things got pretty lean during the years of med school and residency and as kids began to pile up.

 

    These were the well-documented Bad Years of Christmas Light Strings (see Wikipedia article - "Psychiatric Admission Increase Thought Secondary to Christmas Lights") during which frustrated fathers would finally give up after hours of trying to figure out which bulb was bad, say naughty words, ball up the whole mess, jam it in the trash and go to K-Mart to buy a new string of lights.  

    Luckily, heaven-sent inspiration led to the invention of LED lighting and the world emerged from that terrible era.  And the kids kept coming.

 

And coming.

 

     And then they grew up and started going.

 

   And before we knew it, there weren't as many hands to help decorate the tree.

 

     And then there were years spent far from home, where Christmas was modest, and there was no time or place for a tree,

 

 though Paula would find one when she could, like this one in Bogota.

 

     Christmas stores wold pop up in December in Peru, with Chinese-made things complete with Spanish "Feliz Navidad" on the package. 

    So for several years, we had our Golden Tree, Economic Model.

 

     However, celebrating Christmas with the missionaries helped both them and us to have joy at that time of year.

      When the Mission Home in Huancayo, Peru was finished, Paula tracked down a nice tree (the nicest one they had!) and the missionaries helped us decorate.

 

      And it helped that there were little kids in the neighborhood.

 

    When we got home, it was time to begin spending time with our grandkids at their place at Christmas, with their tree.

    But Paula insisted we put up ours also, and sometimes we were lucky enough to have some of them around to help decorate it.

 

    This year we put up the tree by ourselves; everyone else is it at a distance now with their own kids and their own trees.

    Many of the ornaments brought back sweet memories.  There were no visitors, but it was beautiful by itself.  The house was still, and we held hands and talked quietly for a little while.

Dave & Paula