The Deep Blue Sea

The mother looked through old slides, and scanned one into her computer.  The photo was taken in the mid-1970s on Dauphin Island.  Since that time, the little girls have become fine young women.  The mother, well, doesn't have dark brown hair any longer, but that's okay.  She's alive and hopeful and well.


Our family has visited Gulf beaches many times over the years.  We have seen the beaches change from long expanses of sand and sea oats to populations of condos and hotels.


I have memories of playing in the surf as a child.  when I grew tall enough, I would walk out beyond where the waves break and let the water lift me up and set me back down again.  Sometimes I would body surf, riding a wave in, and then I'd lie down where the foam would wash over me.  Most of the time I was having so much fun I didn't want to leave.  After a day at the beach, I would lie in bed, and I could still feel the phantom motion of the waves.


I met Herb by chance on Pensacola Beach.  It was just a short meeting one sunny day in April, 1965, but it led to our correspondence by mail, which led to our marriage, still going strong 44 years later.


We made our home in the Midwest, but often took our children to the beach on vacation.  Cindy liked to play in the waves.  When Debbie was very young, she was more inclined to sit on the beach and dig in the sand.  I showed my little girls how to dig a hole in the sand and watch it fill with water.  We walked along the beach and looked for seashells.  We chased fiddler crabs and watched seagulls and sandpipers.


Today I have been thinking, as so many of us have been thinking, about the massive oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico.  I am saddened by the insult to the sea and the creatures that live in it: the fish, dolphins, oysters, sand dollars, turtles--even the jellyfish that I tried to avoid.  There is so much life in the sea.  I can close my eyes and see pelicans gliding just above the water.  I think of birds, amphibians, and reptiles that live and breed in the marshlands.  I am also saddened for those who live by the sea and make it their livelihood.


At this point it does no good to cast blame.  The task at hand is to support efforts to mitigate the damage and move forward.  Heed the real news, but keep a skeptical eye on it.  TV news tends to focus on the worst.


As serious as the situation seems, let us hold images of clean sand and clear water; that is what we want to aim for.  Gulf beaches should be places where children can run and play and smell fresh air and feel the wind in their hair and the sand under their bare feet.  It is my hope that this will ultimately prevail.

The Black-Chinned Hummingbird

Our friend, Feldman, was relaxing at Balmorhea State Park in West Texas when he discovered something remarkable.  He saw something few of us ever get to see: a black-chinned hummingbird sitting on a nest.  After taking a few photos--quietly, for sure--he showed the pictures to a friend, also knowledgeable about birds.  Yes, this is a black-chinned hummingbird.


You may notice that this black-chinned hummingbird doesn't have a black chin.  That's because it's a female.


The nest is made mostly of spider webs.  I look for, and am delighted to discover symbiotic relationships between species.  The spider has definitely benefitted the hummingbird; whether the hummingbird has returned the favor to the spider, I do not know.  But regardless, it demonstrates the inter-connectedness of life in our world.


Something to ponder:  hummingbird eggs must be very, very small.  Imagine how many of them it would take to make an omelet.  But of course, we wouldn't want to do that, even if we could.

My Day in Court

I was called to jury duty and reported to the Jackson County Courthouse in downtown Kansas City, Missouri, on April 26.  Some folks complain about jury duty, although there isn't much point in doing so.  At least that's the way I feel.  Better to just make the best of it.  Besides, I really do believe it is my civic duty.

I don't go into downtown often enough to get good at it, so I decided to take the bus.  The morning bus was an express commuter bus, and it worked out great.  It made a number of stops, and soon was full of a diverse group of people.  It was a happy bus, it seemed to me.  People would get on and say good morning as they walked to their seats.  The bus driver said he loved all of us, and I think he meant it.

It was only 7 am when I arrived at the courthouse, so I walked to The Show Me Cafe, where I sat down to a bagel and a cup of coffee.  I looked across at the impressive statue of the man on the horse; almost anyone looks grand when seated on a handsome horse, I thought.  I later learned it was Andrew Jackson, the 7th President of the United States, and the first president to be born in a log cabin.  So it was that Jackson for whom our county is named, I thought.  Got to say I have a problem with what happened to the Native Americans on his watch, though.

Oh, about 7:45 I walked over to the courthouse and went through a security checkpoint, pretty much like at the airport, only we were allowed to leave our shoes on.  They don't allow sharp objects, including knitting needles.  People usually bring something to occupy their time while they sit, waiting to be called for a panel.  Apparently they can't bring knitting any longer.

We watched a film about jury service, and it featured local celebrities like former baseball star George Brett, TV weatherman Bryan Busby, and Kansas City Star columnist Charles Gusewelle.  Then we all were asked to stand when a judge came in.  He had us all raise our right hands and take an oath, but now I don't remember exactly what I was swearing to.  The judge had explained that we were to say, "So help me God," unless we had an objection to God.  In that case, we were to say, "Under penalty of law."  I was thinking about the Judge's instructions when I took the oath, and that's why I don't remember.  Probably something about abiding with court procedures and being fair, and I was going to do that anyway, so help me God and under penalty of law.

If anyone had a reason why they were unable to serve, they could approach the bench.  However, His Honor told us that he suffers from type 2 diabetes and sleep apnea, and the court can accommodate the needs of jurors with many ailments.  In other words, if you plan on being excused for a medical reason, it better be good.

As it turned out, there were only two trials on the docket for that day, and both were settled out of court.  We were dismissed at 11:45 am.

The commuter bus would not start running until about 3:30, so what to do?  The streets near the courthouse seemed empty and chilly.  Ordinarily I don't mind being alone and even enjoy it, but this time it didn't feel so comfortable.  The sky was gray overcast, and there was a wicked wind.  I walked to 10th and Main, where I caught a different bus that would bring me close enough to home.  That bus was definitely not an express bus, and not a happy bus at all; it followed a circuitous route that lasted for an hour and a half.

After I arrived at home, warmed up, and ate lunch, everything seemed better.  Everything went great except for the bus ride home, and in retrospect even that wasn't all that bad.