Merry Christmas! And Brrrr!

     My brother Mark is three years younger than I am, but he's a very able guy.  He picks up new skills much quicker than I do, and has always pushed me to try new things.  

     We have been kiteboarding for about fifteen years, with some years off for various reasons.  Normal kiteboards look almost like wakeboards and can go in either direction, called "twin tips."

     However, there's always something new, and about five years ago hydrofoil, or "foil" boards were becoming very popular.  They look like short surboards, but with a "mast" attached to the bottom of the board and two wings, or "foils" on a horizontal bar (the "fuselage") below that.  

     When the foil board moves through the water, the large front foil produces lift like an airplane wing, and since water is about 800 times denser than water, that wing can be relatively small and doesn't have to move very fast.  It easily lifts the board and rider above the water's surface.

      You might well, and should, ask, "So what?"  Well, a couple of things.  First and foremost, the companies that make such equipment have found something new to $ell, and these things are not cheap.

     Second, when the board rises above the water, there is very little friction, with only the wings and mast underwater.  That means that foil boards go fast, even in very light wind.  Kite foil guys can use small kites for propulsion and be out sailing in light wind when the rest of us are whining on the beach.  

     Third, with only the wing and mast underwater, the ride is very smooth, good for old guys' knees.  The practitioners of the activity say it really feels like flying serenely a foot or two off the water.

     My brother Mark saw a new challenge and dove right in.  He quickly learned how to 'foil' behind a jet ski, and was soon doing it propelled by a kite.  

     OK, fine.  I tried several times behind his jet ski and got nuthin.'  Flat out nuthin,' and figured that maybe it was one sport too far.  

     Name something where there are ascending levels of coolness of the equipment.  OK, OK, that's dumb.  Name something where there AREN'T ascending levels of equipment coolness.  Cars?  Yep.

     Bicycles?  Ditto.

     Ironing boards?  Duh!

     OK, maybe that was a lame example.  However, as usual, there are better, newer foil boards, and Mark realized that he was being held back, and so for Christmas....

     YEE HAH!  I got the old one!!  Oh, yeah... the one that I could never get up on...

     Well, hope springs eternal!  These things are made for the water, right?  Remembering that our next-door neighbors are nice people, we ran next door to see if the board would at least float in their pool.

    Here in North Carolina, the winters are described as being like "running fast through a freezer without any clothes on," in other words, it gets cold, but not for long.  However, the nights have generally been right around freezing, so the water

was cold.  I mean really, really cold.  However, we had a purpose!

     So it floats!  Now we'll see if I can finally get the hang of foiling.  That's a rather large "if."

     We hope that you have had a great Christmas, and that if your neighbors aren't heating their pool you'll at least have sense enough to wear a wetsuit when you test your new foil board.  

     And Paula reminds me that people with even more sense don't jump in pools in North Carolina on Christmas.  Yeah, whatever.  

Dave

No good turn goes unpunished!

     A nice family up the street left a crib and a stroller on the curb a couple of months ago, both in good condition.  Paula collected them, and they ended up helping a young Afghan refugee couple.  

     The other day, we finally remembered to take a thank-you note to the neighbor.  On the way back, we passed four teenage guys playing street hockey, using a hard ball for a puck.

     Without warning,  WHACK!  the ball hit my right temple, a slap shot from the hockey game.  It knocked me down, and I needed a couple of seconds to get oriented again.  The player that made the shot came over and asked the usual, "You OK?" and when I stood up, he went back to the game.  

     I felt funny the rest of the evening, and there was kind of dent on the right side of my head.  When I went to the doctor in the morning, he said, "Yeah, that feels funny.  I don't think I want to push on it," and then he said, "You know, you're an old guy [WHAT?!] and you've sustained a hard blow.  It's CT-scan time for you."

     Believe it or not, that was accomplished within the next hour.

    Luckily, the reading of the scan was negative.

     The right side of my head is still kind of sore.  

     Like I said to Paula, that's the last time I thank a neighbor for a kindness without putting on a helmet first.  

     We hope that your neighborhood kids are more careful with their street hockey games.  Or their street archery practice.  Or their street skeet shooting.  That kind of stuff.

Dave

Despite the craziness in the world...

important and good things continue to happen.  

     Our youngest son Mike and our favorite (only) daughter-in-law Adrienne messaged us late Saturday night to let us know that yep, she was in labor.  Things apparently got pretty intense soon after that, with the usual discussion points, such as "YOU DID THIS TO ME!!  I HATE YOU!!  AAAAGH!!"

     A good epidural helped the perspective of all of the participants, and at about 3:45 AM, Emma Margaret Henderson slipped into the world, weighing only six and a half pounds and equipped with feet that come close to qualifying as water skis. 

     Paula and I got the message when we woke up on Sunday morning, so we zipped up a suitcase and headed north on I-95.  I grew up just outside of DC, and I am convinced that one of the inner circles of Hades was designed by copying the roads and traffic around that city, and I have no desire to inhabit either place.  

     By the time we arrived at Christiana Hospital between Newark and Wilmington, Delaware, all was calm and the three were resting quietly.  Paula's abundant and kind Grandmother character was quickly apparent.

     For some thirty years this whole giving-birth process was a major part of my occupation, and being around it again brought a few things back to mind, but it's different on this side.  Now, I get to enjoy the more tender aspects, and leave all that medical stuff to the young medical folks.  

     Emma's five-year-old sister Kate was over the moon the next day when she met her little sister for the first time.

     Meanwhile, life at Mike and Adrienne's house has gone wacko, as usual with a brand-new kid.  Paula has been helping a lot, using her Grandmother-multitasking super powers and trying to let Adrienne rest as much as possible.  

     She's been cooking, provisioning and keeping things in order.  That includes playing numerous rounds of Chutes and Ladders with Kate (by the way, the kid cheats prolifically) and card matching games (again, don't take your eyes off the board).

     I've been trying to help out also, though my efforts pale by comparison.

     Any of you that have had a newborn in the house know how everything gets knocked out of kilter, and folks have to get rest when they can.  Mike and Elsie grabbed a quick, uh, cat nap,

while Emma and her mom relaxed for a bit.

     As I said, despite the worrisome stuff surrounding us all, life continues.  Whatever your philosophy or your 'belief tradition.' or whatever, the echoes of eternity are apparent in this event.  We welcome Emma, and together with everyone who preceded her here, we wish her well as she begins this adventure.  

Dave & Paula

Letters! I get letters!

     For several years, I have written a weekly letter to my grandkids.  At the moment, there are twelve of them, soon to be thirteen, although that one won't be reading for a while.  There are weeks that I don't end up writing or weeks when I write to the whole group instead of the usual individual ones, but those are in the minority.  

     Several of them write to me most weeks, and some almost never write, and that's OK.  From a few of their letters, I can visualize their mother standing over them as they write the commanded thank-you notes for birthday and other presents.  

     I think that among the various ways of communicating, letter-writing has become an old-timey thing, though I admit that I use e-mail to deliver mine to the grandkids.  When I read the personal letters of people like John and Abigail Adams, I am impressed by their eloquence and command of the language, to a degree rarely seen today.  

     In my far-more-humble missives, I try to include pictures, the goofier the better, and I attempt to customize the news and comments of the week.  While Edwin may appreciate the technical details and Joseph may like the adventures, I know that Eleanor could care less about my latest interactions with Air Traffic Control.  

     From the older granddaughters in Kazakhstan I get the latest news about horseback riding and interactions with other teenagers who live there, as well as things happening in their family of seven kids.  From a grandson in Jacksonville, North Carolina I hear about cross-country meets and his part-time job.   

     William Sherwood is an enthusiastic six-year-old living with his six siblings and parents there in Astana.  He is beginning to tackle handwriting and spelling.  A week or two ago, he presented his mom with a personal note to me, already in a hand-made envelope, and asked her to address and stamp it.  It made its way to the 'pouch' and arrived yesterday in our mailbox.  

     As noted, he even constructed the envelope, by folding over a piece of printer paper, placing his letter inside and carefully stapling the open edges.  And I mean stapling!  I think this kid may have a future in the package fulfillment universe!

     The letter within was a heartfelt expression of his appreciation for having been at the beach with me, and how he's looking forward to seeing me again.  While there may have been minor errors in spelling, there was no doubt as to the letter's sincerity, nor the effort taken in writing it.  

     I have fun communicating with my grandkids, but I believe that there is real value to it.  While it may be a useful exercise for both them and me, I believe that it's a way for them to come to know their grandparents, and that's more important.  I plan to continue, at least until my spelling gets worse than Big Bill's.

Dave    

I'm glad for science.

      You knew I was going to say that.  I was a physician for many years, and so I had a front-row seat as many discoveries were made and applied that relieved pain and suffering.  I also watched new information supplant ideas that had been firmly held for years (decades? centuries?)

     Medieval doctors believed that illnesses, including the Black Death, were caused by an imbalance in the four humours These were black bile, yellow bile, phlegm and blood. A patient diagnosed with excess blood would undergo treatments such as bloodletting, which attempted to rebalance the humours by removing excess blood.

     I was bummed when I learned in medical school that I would not be privileged to wear the outfit above, but I swallowed my disappointment and rejoiced that so many things were being figured out.  Because of scientific advancements in the cause and treatment of health problems, I could offer patients so much more than my colleagues of even just a few decades earlier.

      So, we've got it all figured out and we're all going to live forever, right?  Not hardly; not even close.  As has been pointed out, no one gets out of here alive.  On the basis of my religious beliefs, I don't think that sticking around here forever, as enjoyable as it can be, is really the end game anyway.  That's a thought that we all understand in the abstract, but somehow, as the writer William Saroyan put it five days before his death, "Everybody has to die, but I always believed an exception would be made in my case.  Now what?"

     I've been blessed with generally good health and for the most part, the means to enjoy it, with only the occasional bump in the road.  I've been allowed to do some fun and cool stuff along the way.

     In keeping with that, everything was rolling along toward Old Guys' Kite Camp: Fall 2023 Edition this coming week.  It's a really nice semi-annual gathering of good friends and family at Cape Hatteras to enjoy kiteboarding and each other's company.  And of course buy new stuff (duh!).

     And so five days ago I was relieved when a COVID test done for my sore throat returned negative, followed about 24 hours later by a second negative, reassuring me that it was just a cold.  But things progressed, and the third test turned quickly positive.  

     My retirement life seems pretty free and open.  That misconception was corrected when I looked at what this diagnosis meant for the next while; Young Men Activity Night that evening was out, a proficiency flight with a flight instructor the next day was cancelled, helping a lady at church with her car the following day was a no-go, and our service at the Raleigh Temple on Saturday was not to be.  Church attendance today would be considered unpopular, and Hatteras this week doesn't look too probable. though I think I'm on the mend.  However...

     I mentioned that I'm glad for science.  Now a bit of history, if I may be forgiven.

     The first 'vaccine' was recognized in the 1700's through the serendipitous realization that milkmaids who had contracted 'cowpox,' a relatively benign disease, were subsequently immune to smallpox, a devastating illness that killed up to a third of its sufferers and significantly scarred many of its survivors. 

     Over the next two centuries, many of the infectious diseases that killed so many infants, children and adults in their prime were tamped down by the development of subsequent vaccines.

     The science that has allowed the near-miraculously swift development of anti-COVID vaccines has been brewing for at least the last twenty years; this was not something that someone thought of in 2020.  Their deployment has significantly reduced the likelihood of serious illness and death among those that have contracted this quite-contagious and dangerous virus.  

     So, while I'm bummed about the fun I've missed this week, and while I'm embarrassed about the assistance I wasn't able to offer, I'm very grateful that I've only suffered from what would have been considered a 'bad cold' if I hadn't taken that third test.  The hard-won conclusions of legitimate and exhaustive research make me believe that in all likelihood it has only been an inconvenience rather than a catastrophe thanks to good science and its rapid and tireless application.  

     I'm glad for science.  Yeah, just as in Saroyan's case, this life thing isn't going to last forever, but at least I may get to go to Hatteras this week and try to figure out how to use that cool Flysurfer 10-meter foil kite that I perhaps foolishly bought last year.  I'll let you know!

     Dave

We found it! We found it!

      We finally found it!  After nearly ten days in Norway, we found a piece of trash!  On the ground!

     When one finds such an unusual - nay unheard of - object (such as The Loch Ness Monster, Arthur's Sword, Aaron's staff, a functioning Fiat) documentation is necessary.

    My apologies for not using the metric system in that picture; it's the standard in Norway, which only became a country in 1905.  Before then, it was part of Denmark-Norway, no, make that Denmark/Sweden/Norway, before then the Kalmar Union, OK, and the Holdenberg Dynasty years, and when the Treaty of Kiel gave Norway to Sweden (again)...  As I mentioned, in 1905 it became an independent nation, and being sick and tired of all the previous entanglements (though a founding member of NATO), it has voted repeatedly against being part of the European Union.  Because of that, you can't pay for things in Euros.  Instead, the national currency covers everything:

     Norwegians are tough.  Only three percent of their territory can be farmed.  On the other hand, if you're good at geometry, you'll realize that because of the lack of flatness in Norwegian topography,

it may be actually up to four percent if you count the tilted surface area.

     However, as is typical in much of the world, the water in Norway is level.  The Norwegians have taken advantage of this, and they are a largely-maritime people.  The ocean invades much of the country in the form of fjords (don't hurt yourself, it's pronounced like "fyords), the longest of which is Sognefjorden, (as I said, don't hurt yourself) at 175 miles in length, winding its way into the heart of the long, skinny country.

     The fjords snake all over the place.

    While only the 61st country size-wise in the world, Norway is No. 2 for coastline, coming in right after Canada.  I mean, you can't swing a smoked salmon-covered bagel without hitting a piece of coastline.

     Remember the Vikings?  

     Oops!  Wrong Vikings!  Well, you know what I mean, the guys with horns on their helmets.  Actually, the real Vikings never did that.  The only metal helmet ever recovered from that era (found in 1943 on the Gjermundbu farm, and don't even try to pronounce it) lacked horns.  Those apparently didn't come into vogue until the costume guy in a Wagner opera got the bright idea in the 1870's.  So now you can tell the seven year old at your door on Halloween that he's historically inaccurate.  Spoil sport.  

      The real ones figured out that other folks had more farmland than they did and so they started branching out a bit, sharing the prosperity.  You know, "What's yours is mine and what's mine is mine."  That actually was just a phase, around the 9th to the 11th centuries, and while pillage was involved in some parts, there was also a whole lot of legitimate exploring, colonization and influencing cultures as far flung as present Russia.  See "Greenland," "Iceland," "Faroe Islands," "Ireland," "Vinland" (now commonly referred to as "North America,") and others.

     As anyone who has seen the final conflict scene in Mission Impossible: Fallout is aware, the scenery is nothing short of spectacular.  'Breathtaking' comes close, but it and photographs don't convey how crazy big and open the place feels.  I won't tell you how the fight scene ends here on Pulpit Rock and ruin it for you except that Tom Cruise doesn't die.  Duh.

     We couldn't find anything ugly in the whole country, except when Paula, giggling, told me to look in the mirror.  Nice.

    Beginning in the late 1930's, the G.H.Bass shoe company's "Weejuns" became popular here in the States.  These "penny loafers" peaked somewhere in the 1970's, and I remember finally getting a pair as a teenager.  I think I've had some ever since. 

     However, the real story goes back to Norway.  Nils Tveranger apparently spent some time in the US and was intrigued by Iriquois moccasins.  He combined these with some traditional Norwegian footwear features and started manufacturing his shoes in Aurland, Norway in the early 1900's.  Some of these made their way back to the US and, you guessed it, were copied by the Bass shoe company and called Weejuns.  Get it?  Norwegian?  Weejun?  Call me if that's unclear.  

     You can still drop by the Aurland Shoe Company and even stroll around the small factory, where friendly folks are still turning out handmade loafers.  Really, really nice handmade loafers.  And not with pennies, no, no.  They include a 10 kronner coin in the slot.  

    In a country sliced up vertically by the Ice Age and the resultant fjords, transportation was iffy for the first fifteen thousand years after most of the ice melted and people started moving in.  Farms are small and isolated and were accessed by boats and horses: the low population density didn't warrant much else.  Some early railway attempts for logging came and went, and only took hold in the less-rugged parts of the country by the mid- to late-1800's.  Ferries were, and still are, common for navigating the fjords.  

     And by the way, tipped off by a nice lady we met at church in Oslo, we learned that several of the ferries offer - get this - hot dogs with big cheese-infested sausages wrapped in bacon.  You just gotta love a country that offers suicide on a bun while crossing a gorgeous piece of water. 

    However, for more than a century, Norwegian experts have built the largest, longest, deepest and most complex underground projects in the world to get around the problem.  They have the deepest subsea tunnel, in which your ears pop descending more than 1,000 feet under water, and the longest roadway tunnel, at 15.2 miles, the Laerdalsoyri to Aurlandsvangen tunnel (don't tick off any Norwegians by trying to say that, OK?), but which tunnel frankly lacks much of a view.  

     These guys are serious about tunneling.  If you qualify, you can become a member of The (very real) Norwegian Tunneling Society, but I understand that the entry bar is quite high.  Apparently, you have to prove (Family Search?) that somewhere in your genealogy there is the suggestion of a relation to a Norwegian mountain troll.

Great Uncle Hjalmar Dorumsgaard

    I don't know; chalk it up to long winters when the engineers were bored and doodling by their wood stoves, but plans have been solidified and specifications sent to bidders to build the first ship tunnel of any size under a mountain range to connect two waterways.  Great Uncle Hjalmar would be proud.  

    Several cruise lines are concerned that the water slide and bungee-jumping towers may not fit.  Oh, darn.

     Norway leads the world in energy self-sufficiency.  98% of its electricity comes from hydroelectric power, and the remainder from wind.  It has the highest percentage of electric vehicles in the world.  Eighty percent of new vehicles purchased there are electric, and twenty percent of all vehicles on the road are electric, including the Bimmer we rented.

     And you don't really have to speak Norwegian to guess what that writing means on our dirty bumper.

     Anyway, nice car, but it took at least a half day for four sixty-somethings (Paula, me, my brother Mark and his wife Amy) even with our tech-savvy daughter Ashley around, to figure out the charging puzzle.

     We started a race to figure out who could get the most working iPhone apps linked to different charging stations, and of course Ashley won, being some twenty-five years younger than the rest of the party.  We got the hang of it after a few days, and started feeling very twenty-first-century-ish.

     As mentioned above, Norwegians are a tough people.  When the famous Norwegian explorer Roald Amundsen learned that Robert Peary had reached the North Pole first, he said, "Ikke noe problem. Gi meg et kart," roughly translated as "Dadgum it.  No problem.  Let me see the map," and headed south.  In a boat designed and built to withstand being caught long-term in polar ice and with his co-explorer Fridjtoff Nansen (below, and a guy I would not want to get in a fight with on an ice floe)

they set off for the South Pole and bagged it on dogsleds.  The account of their assault on the Pole speaks of their courage, preparation and sheer Norwegian toughness.  

     Their vessel, the Fram, which in Norwegian means "Fram," was kept afloat afterward, and in 1933 was dragged ashore by tough Norwegian guys in Oslo, and the museum built around it.

     Now you can tour the very boat that Amundsen and his company used, and it is very impressive in its construction and their quarters and storage.  There is a piano, sewing machines for sails and clothing, a metal forge for repairs, every crew member had their own cabin, they ate together in a sort-of large mess, etc.  Very, very impressive.  However, I'm still OK living in Raleigh.  Where we have some really scary thunderstorms every once in a while.  Oh, yeah, and it froze twice last winter.  Just awful.  

     All told, Norway is a fascinating, gorgeous country, understandably proud of its accomplishments.  

    I don't know if this blog post will ever end up on Trip Advisor, but we would most heartily endorse a visit to Norway.  It is very, very, extremely kjolig, which Google says means "cool."

Dave & Paula