(A continuation of the last blog.)

Sally had the address of where the party was being held but had no idea where it was. The streets were so convoluted and unfamiliar to her, she took a cab. It took her to a door in a tall wall. She saw a button to push. She pushed it and heard the door latch snap; she opened the door and entered a splendidly decorated courtyard. It was the home of Jackie, the friend with the broken arm. Some of the other women from yoga were there and were setting up chairs and card tables for the group in the courtyard.

Sally jumped right in and asked where the folding chairs were. They told her there were a couple in the closet in the bedroom. She went in and was fascinated with how organized Jackie was. The closet was a large walk-in. She saw the chairs and picked up two and started to carry them out when she froze. She stood there for a minute, looked puzzled, then shrugged her shoulders, and took the chairs out to the courtyard. More people arrived and a good time was had by all.

The next morning Sally and Ron went out for breakfast. They ordered coffee, baguettes, and orange juice. “How was the party, Sal?” Ron asked, while they were waiting for their food.

“It was fun. We sat around and laughed at each other, just the way we do at our morning yoga. Some of us are not limber enough to get into the poses and we look silly being half- way there. Jackie has been doing yoga for over 20 years and just slips from one to another effortlessly. She can sit on the floor, spread her legs apart, bend at the waist and touch her nose to the floor; can you believe that?”

“She belongs in the follies with all the high kicking Rockettes.” Ron joked.

Sally got serious and said, “Tell me more about the case Paul is working on, the one that they don’t have a weapon for.”

“I told you most of what I know. They think the motive to kill him must do with the money he was stealing from the company. Paul didn’t think the company was in on the killing, but maybe he wasn’t stealing enough to pay his gambling debt, and someone hired ‘Big Louie from Detroit’ to knock him off.”

“Ron, I’m serious.”

“Well so am I. France must have a ‘Big Louie’ or two, and if you don’t pay up, you’re put down. It’s the same all over in the gambling culture.” They finished their meal and took a stroll to look at all the merchants in their stalls along the street.

Paul called to invite them to dinner and got Sally on the phone. He said he wanted to take them to his favorite restaurant to make sure they had some real French cuisine. She was excited again and accepted for the next night. Before they hung up, Paul said, “Tell Ron there has been a huge break in the murder case we worked on the other day, when he was with me.”

Sally said, “You found the weapon, what was it?”

“No, we don’t have the weapon yet, but it’s not important to us anymore. This is much bigger than that. The routine DNA test we did on our Mr. Smout came back and matched the DNA of our serial rapist and murderer we’ve been after for six months. It looks like he got in trouble with the big boys and they took him out for us. If I knew who killed him, I’d write him a thank you note.”

When Ron came back from the bakery, he was carrying two baguettes.  “I found the best place to get them. I asked a man on the street that had one in a bag, and he pointed to a store called Jacobs and said his were the best”

“Ron, I have news.”

“What, you look upset.”

“Paul called, and invited us to dinner tomorrow night, and I accepted.”

“That’s great. I guess I just misread your expression.”

“No, you didn’t. I have a problem.”

“What is it Sal, can I help?”

“Not right now. I may need your advice later. This is something I have to do some checking on before we talk about it.”

“OK Sal, but don’t tune me out if I can help.”

“It has to do with my yoga group.”

“You’re right, that’s a social problem, I’m not qualified in that area. Good luck.”

“Paul had some big news about the murdered man that had his throat messed up. It seems that his DNA matches the DNA of their serial killer.”

“That’s great!  What a break that is. It changes everything.”

Sally said, “Yes, it does change everything.”

The next day, at the yoga class, Sally asked Jackie to coffee after class. They talked about their lives, what they did for hobbies, how much they liked their work.  A lot of other subjects came up like, just when Jackie broke her arm, and where she worked. Sally told her that the reason she enjoyed being a private investigator was she always had a puzzle to solve and that was her strong area. She loved to work on puzzles of all kinds. She said, “You seem to really like the yoga class, Jackie, you’re so flexible.”

“Yes, I do love yoga. I started it years ago when I was in college, it was one of the PE classes. I have always liked being physical and took a different physical education class each quarter to search for a lifelong exercise I could keep up after school. I took volley- ball, tennis, Savate classes, and even a basketball class. The one I enjoyed the most was the yoga, so I never stopped.”

“It’s too bad everyone doesn’t do that, find something that they love doing, and then keep using that to keep them healthy and in good shape. I admire you for coming to yoga, even with a broken arm.”

“It doesn’t hurt unless I bump the cast, and I can still do most of the stretches.”

They talked a while longer and parted, cheek to cheek. Sally was enjoying being in France and trying to learn the customs.

At dinner that night with Paul, Sally asked him, “What is Savate? I was talking with a friend and she said she took a Savate PE class in college. I was embarrassed to ask her what that was.”

“It’s one of our martial arts. We normally call it kick boxing. They combine kicking with boxing, and it is quite popular. They do it in the states too but it is combined with all the other martial arts and you folks call it cage fighting. It’s too brutal for most people to watch; we stick with Kick Boxing here; it’s a little more civilized.” They all laughed.

The dinner at the Hotel de Caumont was as good as it gets. One of the best meals Ron and Sally had ever experienced. Paul said he was going to be out of town for the next couple of days on another case, but he would be back before they left, and they would get together again.

Ron wanted to take the tour to “the little Saint-Tropez of Provence”.  It was a place he had heard about from a friend at home, in Seattle. “It’s more beautiful than the San Juan Islands in Washington.” Ron wanted to take an all-day tour, but Sally said she would rather stay in Aix and walk the city some more and go to the outdoor flower market. She loved flowers, and the open-air markets were special to her. There seemed to be one for everything. She knew Ron hated wandering around shopping. It was decided. They each were going to do their own thing tomorrow. Today, they would go back to the Hotel de Caumont and go through the museum; the current special exhibition was about Marilyn Monroe. They decided to take the day to tour the museum and a few art galleries, and have coffee on the street, like the French do. They were on vacation.

This is going to be different from my other Blogs in that it is serialized. Some of you have asked, “What are your murder mysteries like?” I’m going to be traveling to Iceland for the next few weeks, so I decided to give you a taste of my mystery writing, while I am traveling. I wrote a short story while I was in France and will share it with you in the next four blogs.

It has the same couple, Ron and Sally Steel, that appear in all three of the Steel Mysteries Trilogy, two of which are on Amazon e-books now, (The Man Who Died Twice, and The Invisible Assassins), and the third one to be there by the end of June, (The Cow Blood Case).  If you enjoy this story you will enjoy the others. If not, don’t waste your time on the others.

The Steel Mysteries

The Weapon

Ron and Sally Steel boarded the plane at 6 a.m. at SeaTac Airport in Seattle, Washington, on their first trip to France. Their retirement from the police department had been good to them. The detective agency they started was doing well and they decided to take a trip to France when they had a lull in business, instead of another cruise on their boat, like normal. “We need a change,” Ron told Sally. “Let’s get away from our job, our Puget Sound environment, and do something out of our comfort zone.”

They had met a police inspector from Aix, a city in France, at a global meeting of law enforcement personnel a couple months earlier, and they bonded even though they were only together for a short time. Paul came to stay a few days with them, when the conference was over. He told them that if they came to France he would show them around; they decided to do it.

They planned to stay three weeks in a hotel and Paul said they would not need a car. He told them they could walk everywhere they needed to go. Their big concern was if there was a gym nearby. They both were fanatics about working out. Paul assured them the gym was within walking distance. They were going to stay at the Saint Christophe Hotel, downtown.

They arrived in Aix by bus from the Marseilles Airport and were only a couple blocks from their hotel. They walked over with their luggage. Checking in, they were handed a message, it was from Paul. “When you get settled, give me a call, I’ll meet you for coffee.”

Going to their room they were happy to find it satisfactory and comfortable. As they were unpacking their suitcases they were excited to get involved in the culture. “I’ve heard about how the French go to coffee at an outdoor café;  I’m anxious to get started learning to be French. Hurry up Ron, we only have three weeks.”

Ron was laughing at her excitement. “I haven’t seen you this excited for a long time. Maybe we should travel more often. Right now, you need to calm down a bit, we can’t call Paul until we change the sim-cards in our phones to the French ones.”

“I didn’t forget, the man at the Verizon store went over that with us. I’m sure the people at the lobby desk can tell us where to do that. Come on, don’t be a slowpoke, I want my coffee.”

They got directions at the lobby desk, walked a couple of blocks, and bought their new sim-cards; then Ron made his first phone call in France. “Hello Paul, I guess I should say bonjour Paul.” Paul asked where they were and then gave Ron directions to a nearby side-walk café, where he said he would meet them in 20 minutes.

They found the café and sat down in the sunshine and ordered two coffees. Ron looked around and said, “What a beautiful day. The sun is shining, the trees all around us are glowing with the backlight from the sun, people are walking in all directions around us, and it’s sure different from Seattle.”

“I love it.” Sally said, just as their coffee arrived. “Oh, my gosh, it’s a little cup of espresso. I’m glad we’re from Seattle where espresso is common and we know what it is. I was expecting a big mug of coffee.”

“We have a lot to learn,” said Ron as Paul pulled up a chair and joined them. They asked him a lot of questions and he gave them a general verbal tour of Aix, and a specific tour of the center of town where they were staying. He pointed out where the gym was located, and they said they would join the next day for the three weeks they were going to be there. They were in the habit of working out every morning, early, before they started their work day.

The next morning when they went to the gym Sally asked the manager if they had a yoga class. “Yes, we do, it meets every morning at 6:30. There is a small fee that you can pay each day you come to work out.”

“Great, I’ll be here every morning.” She could keep her normal routine of yoga stretching every morning and then resistance training, switching between upper body and lower body on alternate days. She was one happy tourist.

Ron was just as happy. He had the same schedule of upper and lower body exercise, but instead of the yoga he spent 30 minutes working hard on the cardio machines. The gym became their anchor, so to speak, in Aix. It was where they were, every day, meeting people that were also there, and making local friends.

Paul spent as much time with them as he could but he was preoccupied trying to apprehend a serial rapist that murdered his victims. He talked a lot about the case when he was with Ron and Sally because he wanted to see if they could pick up on something that he might have missed. He knew that was the business they were in as ex-cops, and now private investigators. The police had good DNA evidence, but nothing matched in the data bank. The attacks seemed to be entirely at random. There was no connection between the victims.

By the end of their first week at the gym Ron had made a couple of casual friends, but Sally, being a truly social person, had made at least five new good friends. She had been invited to go for tea twice, and went both times. One of her new friends fell and had a broken arm, so her friends from the yoga class were planning a party for her. Sally was right in the middle of it. Her new friends had accepted her as one of them and she was loving it, and them.

Ron was spending more time with Paul. Paul invited him to spend a day at the police station the next day; he was looking forward to it. He was interested in the different procedures between his police department in Seattle, were he and Sally had retired from, and the French department.

Eric Smout sat at his desk eating lunch as he did every day. Most of the company employees sat in the conference room at lunch time, chatting together. They always asked Eric to join them but he never did, so finally, they stopped asking. Eric was a good accountant but had less than adequate social skills. He didn’t talk to anyone unless he had to, and then he rarely looked them in the eye, only at the floor or the item they were discussing.

Eric oversaw the grant money the company functioned under. It was in the millions. He was perfect for the job. He had a degree in mathematics and one in accounting. He was also bored with his job, and decided that with his skills he could work out a scheme to beat the local casino in blackjack. Unfortunately for Eric, it didn’t work, and he lost a lot money. Embezzling money from his company was easy for him; he paid off his gambling debts.

Once he discovered how easy it was to take money from the company, he made a habit of it, and helped himself to thousands of dollars over time. He started sending money to an offshore bank in the Cayman Islands as his secret retirement account.

He was known for staring at the women he worked with when they didn’t know it, but others noticed it. They just considered him strange and let it go at that, but he made some of them ill-at-ease when he was around.

She was tall, close to six feet with high heels. Her long blond hair, was combed to spread evenly over her shoulders. Every part of her wardrobe was matched and coordinated to accentuate her figure. She walked with authority as she walked home after working all day at a desk. Her morning exercise and her two-mile night walk home kept her trim. She was on her way home now, thinking if she needed anything at the store, when she felt the hands that grabbed her from behind and slammed her to the ground. She put her right arm out to break the fall but felt it break instead. Her attacker drug her into a deserted alley behind some dumpsters, and leaned down to grab her.

She was so taken by surprise and in such pain in her right arm, that for a moment she didn’t react, except to her pain, but in the few seconds she was being dragged into the alley she became totally aware of what was happening.

As her assailant leaned down to grab her, she poked the index finger of her left hand into his eye. He jumped back with his hand to his face; she used her good left arm to get herself up onto her feet. The man was mad now and came at her snarling like a mad bear. She took a few steps backward and collided with the dumpster. Using it for support, her eyes narrowed to a squint as she leaned slightly forward in a crouch, the pain in her useless right arm forgotten, as she attacked the monster in front of her.

CHECK BACK IN 5 OR 6 DAYS AND SOLVE THE PUZZLE…….IF YOU CAN.

Our friend, Judy, from Hunting Beach in California came over to visit us. She is staying at a Hotel in the center of town. It’s fun to have her join us on our adventures. One of which was a drive 60 miles out of town to have lunch with a friend. Karin rented a car, it was a Porsche sedan, five-speed stick shift.  She said it had been 20 years since she had driven a stick shift. How could anything go wrong, we had over 300 years of experience in the car.

Those of you that have not been to Europe and seen how they drive in the crowded, narrow, one-way streets, with many round-abouts, won’t appreciate what a monumental, gutsy, thing it is to drive here. There were four of us going on this trip. We held a communal prayer and got in the car. With Susan, a local friend, navigating, and Karin shifting the car, Judy and I in the back seat singing all the religious songs we knew under our breath, we had a wonderful drive, and visit with our friends. We only got lost three times for short periods. Karin was our hero, and she used all five gears.

As I write this we have five days left, tonight we have a talk with a man about translating Karin’s book into French, then we go to the poetry club to hear some readings, then into the unknown, which generally means food some place, with somebody. Life is good.

Today, Karin took us all to the fanciest place I have ever been for lunch. There is a family here that has taken us under their caring protection. They brought me a yoga mat to workout on to keep me off the tile floor, have driven us around when we needed it, hosted Karin’s party after the book signing, and lots of other help. They are the Campiston family. The lunch was a thank you to them. The food was good, and the gardens were exquisite. I had a chance to try Goose liver. No comment.

It’s Monday, and a holy day in France; everything is closed so we took a tour to the national park, on the Mediterranean Sea. It was on my bucket list, I wanted to look at the water and be able to say, “Of course I’ve been to the Mediterranean.” We were only there for an hour, and had lunch, but I have been there.

We had a driver and just the three of us for the entire day. We took a tram ride through a salt mine, saw the white horses the region is famous for, photographed some flamingoes, visited the Roman Theater built before Jesus was born, and the stadium built just after. We covered over a hundred miles, it was a great day, and finished it off with beer and wine at an Irish Pub, in Aix.

Tonight, we have dinner at a friend’s house. Tomorrow we start home with a one-and-a-half-hour flight to Madrid, then a 13-hour flight to LAX.

I have a diving conference to go to the day after we get home on the Queen Marry ship. More on that in a later blog. In June, I will be in Iceland with my granddaughter, Melissa, taking pictures.

I love my second childhood. I didn’t realize how young 82 was – if you allow it to be.

A note on our trip home. It was time to leave France and start home. Our friend Mary Paule took us to the bus station, and with tearful good buys, we were off to the Marseille airport.

Our flight out was at 7pm to Madrid, where we landed at 8:45 pm. We were prepared for the four hour layover until our flight out to LAX at 12:45 pm.

Now look carefully at that schedule, we hadn’t.

It wasn’t a four hour layover it was a 16 hour one.  We took a shuttle to a hotel, had lunch the next day and then took the 13 hour flight to LAX, and a four hour shuttle ride home. We were the last people to be dropped off.

I don’t know what I would do if life wasn’t such an adventure…..but I know one thing, I’d get more sleep.

In my last blog, I described our transit and our living quarters, in this one I’ll relate my first impressions of the city of Aix, where we are living. It is old. It’s even older than my third-grade teacher, and I remember that she was really old. A lot of things in the area were built by the Romans. They must have been a huge family, because they built a lot of stuff. But they don’t live here anymore.

The people in Aix love to sit outside on the wide sidewalk in the middle of town and drink coffee at little round tables. Karin and I are quite good at it. She had to teach me the proper procedure. When I ordered my first cup I was disappointed that the cup was only the size of a shot glass. Then Karin explained that it was OK to sit there for an hour and chat, while you sipped the coffee. That didn’t make any sense to me when I looked at the tiny vessel in front of me. I took one sip from it and realized that it would take at least an hour for me to finish it.
We visited the bookstore where Karin will be having her book signing party and it is very nice. It’s called, “Book and Bar”. It is a large bookstore with a snack bar inside. It’s like being in a library where the librarian doesn’t come over and tell you, “You can’t eat in here.” We’re looking forward to the event.

Wanting to see more of the country we took a tour to five mountain villages. We walked the mile into town and were picked up in a van. It was an all-day tour and we had a good time. We spent an hour in each village walking around and it was about a half hour drive between them. We had an ice-cream cone in one, some egg rolls in another, a sandwich for lunch in one, and a beer and some other drink in another. We shared the van with a couple from Spain, and a woman from Germany, and enjoyed their company. It was a long day and when we were dropped off in Aix we still had a mile to walk up hill to get home. By the time we climbed the stairs, to our third story palace, and I carried my walker up the stairs from hell, we were totally drained, but still happy campers. It was another good day.

Karin had her book signing event at the Book and Bar, and had 50 people show up. Standing room only and there still wasn’t enough room for everyone. Very successful. After the book signing we had a party at one of her friend’s house for about 12 people. Another good time.

With my walker, I can walk all day and keep up with Karin, I just park it next to the motorcycles. It was too short for me though, and I was bent over a lot to use it. Before the trip, I priced a tall one at home and it was $225. I didn’t want to spend the money at that time, and I wasn’t using it that much at home, so put it off. In France we walk two to four miles every day, and medical things are cheaper, Karin knew where they sold walkers. We priced one that was a better design than mine, and it was only $80.  I bought it on the spot and left them my old one to give to someone.

We’re off to more adventures, wish us luck……….Hooyah!

On the 11^th of April I boarded a plane for Philadelphia, sat there for four hours then boarded a plane for Madrid, Spain, was there for one and a half hours, then boarded a plane for Marseilles, France, where I caught a bus for the city of Aix. There I was picked up by a friend in a car and delivered to the apartment I was going to live in for the next three weeks.   We took off at 6am on Monday and arrived at our destination at 1pm on Tuesday.

If it wasn’t for the fact that I was traveling with my very special lady friend, Karin, it would have been a drag, but we worked at making it fun. We were both beyond tired when we arrived. When I woke up in the morning I was confused for a few seconds when I didn’t instantly recognize where I was. Then it hit me, thus the title of this blog.

The apartment we are renting for three weeks is worth a description. First, it is small, under 400 sq. ft., and old. I’m not sure how old but I think I found where Napoleon scratched his name in the cement foundation. We live on the third floor and there is no elevator, but there is a narrow winding cement stare case for us to climb up.  It makes every trip out of the apartment a true adventure, especial when the hand rail just comes loos in your hand when you are on the way down with a walker that is too wide for the passage and must be carried folded and sideways.

The bath room is too small to call a room.  I counted the tiles in the floor – there are 30. Each one is six inches’ square which is a total of about 8 sq. ft.  In this “room” we have a shower, a wash basin, and yes, even a toilet. They all fit just fine. It’s only when we add a human body that it gets a bit cramped. Oh yes, I almost forgot, the medicine cabinet is located directly over the toilet so if anything should fall out of it like your tooth brush, it won’t get lost.  You must also close the window in the living/dining room to open the bath room door. It’s good coordination training.

The bedroom is fine and the bed is a comfortable one. It is queen size and has enough room on either side that you can stand up and if you stay facing the wall, can walk sideways out to the end where you can walk out the door facing forward.

There are two folding chairs at the three-foot square table where we eat our gourmet French food. Thanks to Karin we are eating very well, I even get to have my oatmeal every morning, which is my meal of choice.

We have two work stations, Karin’s is on the table, after we get the dishes off it, and mine is on the small coffee table by the couch. It has proved to be quite adequate.

We’re happy campers and having fun-filled adventure. I have started a short story to add to my “Steel“ mystery series. And the best part, Karin is happily putting up with me.

• 

  SAC Administration Bldg.

  

  Me 🙂

  I got a call from a friend that I met when he was my student, at Santa Ana College. He is being considered for recognition as an outstanding individual in the community and graduate of the college. He asked me for a letter of recommendation to be sent to the college. It sounds simple, doesn’t it?

  I wrote his letter with high praise, which he deserved, but didn’t know who to send it to. I decided to just take it to the college myself and hand it to the person it was supposed to go.

  I drove to the college and parked in the visitor parking lot, right in front of the

  administration building. I knew exactly where I was going, after all, I taught there for 30 years. It was a short 100 foot walk to the front door. Now, I must tell you that I don’t walk very well. I normally use a walker if I have to walk any distance, because walking creates a lot of pain in my legs and back. I didn’t think I needed the walker. Big mistake. When I taught there the letter would have gone to someone on the second floor. I must also tell you, I had not been on the campus since I retired, 27 years ago.

  Standing up straight and trying to look like a man of distinction, I walked in and asked the person at the first desk I came to, who was in charge of this award? They said they didn’t know and asked me to go to the registration desk, so I did. She didn’t know who the letter would go to either; she asked the lady who seemed to be in charge of the area. She told me it would be the student something or other office, in room 207 located in the Village. I asked where and what was the Village? I was told it was a series of temporary buildings at the very other end of the campus.

  I started walking to find the Village when the lady who was in charge of the registration area caught me and said she would show me the way. She took off at a pretty good pace and it was one of those things where you can’t really get there from here – there was no straight line. They are constructing new buildings everywhere on the campus, and she led me through a series of narrow passages around all the new construction sites. I was really humping it to keep up with her, and let’s just say I was very uncomfortable but I kept up.

  Reaching the Village after an interesting tour around a lot of construction, we couldn’t find the room. My lady guide told me to wait, and went into one of the rooms, I think she made a phone call. She came out and said they had moved the office. Luckily for me, the office was still in the Village, somewhere. It turned out to be just a hundred yards away.

  We found the office; my nice lady guide went back to her real job. She was an

  outstanding individual and went way beyond her job description to help me, and, to my amazement, she did the hike in high heels. I would never have found it without her.
• That should be the end of the story, but it isn’t. I told the lady behind the desk about the letter and I wanted to leave it. She asked, “Who does it go to?” I just about fainted.  She could tell I was hurting because I was leaning on her counter, sweating, shifting back and forth, and breathing hard: I could tell she felt sorry for me. She told me to leave the letter with her and she would make some phone calls to find out where it needed to go and see it got delivered before the next day deadline. I think she thought I was about to collapse and wanted me out of her office before I did.

  It took me 20 minutes, but I managed to navigate my way through the maze back to my car. The two ladies that went out of their way to help me were sweethearts, and also a real credit to the college.

  By the time I made it back to my car I no longer walked like a man of distinction, but

  more like a man of extinction. I collapsed in the front seat and sat there, laughing. I went over the lessons learned. First, things change over time, and 27 years is a long time, don’t assume. Second, I would have never believed that I could have walked that far without an aid, now I know I can.

  My father’s words from when I was ten years old came back to me. “Pain builds

  character Johnny, so when you encounter it, embrace it.” I want you to know that I

  really gained a lot of character that day. Don’t you just love it……..

We all get older, that’s just the fact. Of course, when I was 10 years old, I couldn’t wait until I was 11, then 12, then 13, and that great expectation continued until somewhere in my 20s, I think.

Then the excitement of becoming a “grown up” faded. I was one. Birthdays were not all that important to me; they came and were enjoyed but held no particular significance.

I just had my 82^nd birthday and realize, now that I have reached middle-age, why we celebrate them. I’m now looking forward to my 83^rd, my 84^th, and all the rest just like I used to look forward to my 11^th, and 12^th.

My dear friend and significant companion, Karin, decided I should celebrate my 82^nd birthday on a boat in Newport Harbor, where my boating life started. So she arranged it. I think she must wear Nikes, because whatever it is, she “just does it”.

She rented a “Duffy” boat for us to go out for an afternoon, and tour Newport Harbor. She also brought aboard a great lunch for us to enjoy. There were six other people aboard this boat that holds eight people, and two of them had birthdays within a few days of mine.

You’re probably wondering now what a “Duffy” boat is. Well, it’s an electric boat. Most big harbors have them for rent because they are fun boats to run around the harbor and party on.

Two of the other six people were my very good friends Cliff and Kathy who I’ve known since junior high school. The other four were people in our writing club at Laguna Woods. Richard is the president of the writing club and it was also for his birthday. His wife Sue brought some delicious carrot cake cupcakes. We didn’t get to put candles on them because the wind was too strong, but they were scrumptious anyway. The other couple were Satish and Rohini. Satish’s birthday was also within a few days of mine.

It was the day of my birthday, so I got to be the helmsman and sat at the wheel. I had not been at the helm of a boat since I sold my last one, three years ago. I loved being at the wheel again.

I maneuvered us around the harbor to where I had lived on my various different boats. Four different boats, one of them, a 40 foot sailboat, I lived on for one year, the second one, a 27 foot power boat for two years, the third, a 32 foot power boat for two years, and the last one, a 60 foot power boat, for three years. I lived in a different part of the harbor with each boat. We visited all four locations, we even went by where John Wayne used to live. I was reliving the old days and was one happy boater again.

Karin suggested we might just make this boat ride a birthday tradition. I am already anxiously looking forward to my 83^rd birthday when I get to take the wheel again and run a boat. I just love being the Captain.

We all have a bucket list, and as we grow older, which I am in the process of doing, we tend to hurry at getting it done. The number one item on my friend Karin’s list was to see the Northern Lights, Aurora Borealis, in person. Although not on the top of my list it was on my list, so we decided to “Just Do It”.

Neither one of us had a lot of time so Karin found a three day excursion to Fairbanks, Alaska to see them. We signed up, and this is a time-line of that trip. Let me make clear, we are glad we took it, because it was truly a different kind of adventure.

Day One January 6^th 2017 …..We drove to the Orange County airport at 5am, in the dark, to catch a 7am flight to Seattle. I flew out, changed planes in Seattle for Anchorage, where I landed in the dark. Karin, due to a glitch, did the same thing, but two hours behind me.

Day Two….. We got up at 5am, in the dark, and were taken to the train station where we waited for about two hours, in the dark, for our train to get underway to Fairbanks.

We were on the train for the first two hours, in the dark, then the sun came up. It is an 11 hour ride and we enjoyed the beautiful scenery. I took pictures for the next six hours, then it got dark again, and three hours later we arrived in Fairbanks, in the dark.

Checking in at the hotel we were told to go to bed and they would call us if the lights showed up. They don’t appear every night. At this point I have to tell you about the temperature. It was -27 degrees. That is 59 degrees below the freezing point of water. Being a biologist I was concerned about my body being composed of 90% water. I didn’t want to fall down and shatter into a 1,000 pieces.

I had on long underwear, insulated pants, a T shirt over the long underwear, a down vest over the T shirt, a long sleeve flannel shirt over the vest, another vest and a jacket. To complete the outfit I also had long wool socks and boots. Karin was dressed in a similar manner.   We took off a couple of the top layers and went to sleep. Two hours later, they called us to hurry down to the lobby – the lights were showing!

We jumped into our top layers and went down to stand on a veranda and look out to where they said the light might show. There were four of us standing out there being careful not to take a deep breath so we wouldn’t freeze our lungs, the lights didn’t show. After 20 minutes the other two left but Karin and I stayed for two hours until we briefly saw a faint glow that came and went. There was a bright moon lighting up the sky. Poor planning on our part, but we did see the Aurora Borealis, and managed to live through it!

We went back to the room and slept for two hours before they took us to the airport, in the dark, it is now day three, to catch our flight to Seattle. We arrived back at John Wayne airport Sunday night, in the dark. We were gone three days and only had six hours of sunlight, if you don’t count the time we were on the plane. It was an adventure.

I would recommend it if you don’t mind sleep deprivation, drink lots of very strong coffee, have extra clothes, and are in possession of a good pair of night goggles. Karin and I will have many a broad smiles in the years to come when it gets dark, remembering our adventure in the dark.

I just read that Dr.Sammy Lee passed away. If you don’t recognize the name, he was famous nationally for bringing home to the USA several gold medals in the early Olympics in diving. He also was a major player in the civil rights movement. He’s worth a Google, if you’re young enough not to know of him. I was lucky enough to know him personally.

Sammy came to Santa Ana College where I taught SCUBA diving classes and helped to mentor our springboard divers. He taught them how to look good diving into the water, and I taught them how to stay alive and have fun under the water.

He became my hearing aid doctor early on in our relationship, and worked with, and on me, for many years before I retired and moved north to Washington State. This story is just one of many that could be told about Sammy, but it will give you an insight as to why everyone seemed to love him.

As I mentioned above, Sammy was a doctor that worked on the hard of hearing folks like me. His office was in Santa Ana and I was a regular customer/patient. His examination of me revealed that the outer ear canal, from the outside to the eardrum, was closing off. He thought it was occurring because of the constant exposure to cold ocean water. As a diver and instructor, I spent extensive time in the ocean. He said he could open them back up with an operation called an “exostosis”.

We made arrangements for me to check into the hospital to have both ears done. Remember, this is over 45 years ago when we didn’t have the equipment we have today, and it was a serious surgery then. I think it is more common now. They call it a surfer’s ear.

I checked into the hospital one afternoon, and spent that night. There were various tests done to get me ready for surgery in the morning. They wheeled me in, put me to sleep, and I woke up feeling just fine. Sammy said all went well and I could go home that afternoon.

When the time came for my release, (it sounds like I was in prison), they wheeled me out to the street in a wheelchair and I got up and started walking home. I only lived two miles from the hospital and didn’t have anyone to pick me up, so I planned to just walk home. I wasn’t hurting anywhere.

I had walked for about a half mile, when a car suddenly slammed on the brakes, and stopped alongside me on the road. I looked over and it was Sammy staring at me through the car window. He opened the door and said, “What are you doing out here? “

I told him I was just walking home. He said, “You can’t do that, you just had some major surgery.”

I said, “It doesn’t feel like it. I feel fine.”

His answer was, “If you don’t think it was major surgery, just look at your bill.” I got in the car still laughing. Sammy drove me home.

He was a dear friend, a credit to his country, a good doctor, and the world, country, and many others, like me, will miss him. People of his caliber are few and far between.

Chionodraco rastrospinosu

The bucket we found to carry the fish had been used to send something down to the station sometime in the past. There were no stores at McMurdo Station, and we saved and reused everything. This bucket was ugly. It was black, with yellow and red paint all over it, because it had been used several times for one thing or another. The top had a lid we could seal, with about 30 little tabs that could be bent down to lock it in place. It had a handle, and I carried it with me on the way home, never letting it get out of my sight.

At the end of the cruise, the 93 fish that were collected were very carefully injected, wrapped in cloth, and placed in the 5 gallon bucket. They were small, most about 6 inches. They belonged to New Zealand, and were loaned to me to take home and work on. This collection of fish was one of the main reasons for the entire expedition, and I had it, in a bucket, to carry home. It was a very heavy responsibility.

The trip home for me started on a ship, from the station to New Zealand. The bucket shared my bunk. In New Zealand, I had to wait for a military air transport flight to San Francisco, and the bucket shared my room with me. The flight to San Francisco was long, we didn’t have jets then, and the bucket shared my seat with me. We landed at Travis Air Force Base, in San Francisco.

They put me in a car and drove me to the San Francisco airport, where I would take a regular commercial flight home, to Southern California.

I had been gone for about five months. I had not shaved or cut my hair in that time. I had bright red hair down past my shoulders, and a full red beard all over my face. When I was on the ice, everyone look like that, but it was 1959, and the hippy movement hadn’t become popular in the cities yet, and I was to the city person, some sort of mountain man, and probably mentally deficient.

I was wearing a red plaid, wool shirt, and an old pair of wool Army issued pants. To make the picture complete. I was carrying my ugly bucket in one hand and my ice ax and my steel crampons in the other hand, because I couldn’t find any way to pack them. Can you imagine what would happen now, if I tried to get on an airplane with an ice ax and a bunch of metal crampons?!

I walked up to the counter to buy my ticket, set my bucket down and was totally unaware of how I was affecting those around me; I just asked for the first flight out to Los Angeles. The lady behind the counter, told me there is a plane leaving in 20 minutes, I think she just wanted to get rid of me as fast as possible, and gave me a ticket. I took my ticket, and reached down to pick up my bucket, and it was gone.

I panicked! I grabbed a lady standing next to me at the counter and said, “Did you see what happened to my bucket?”

Red Beard

She didn’t say anything. Her eyes were as big as saucers as she was shaking. I realized later that she was terrified from looking at me. Her husband said, “The custodian took the old bucket away that was sitting on the floor. Is that the one you mean? There he goes, over there,” and pointed. I looked through the crowd of people that were milling around, and he was headed for a door that said employees only. I panicked about losing my bucket, and being late for my flight, and ran after the man, calling out, “That’s my bucket.” and waving my arm in the air to get his attention. It just happened that the arm I was waving was also holding my ice ax and my crampons. People scattered, and I suddenly had a clear path to the custodian. I reached him just as he got to the door, and he, for the first time, heard me and turned around. I was right on him, waving my ice ax; he dropped the bucket, and slammed himself against the wall.

I didn’t have time to explain anything, I had to catch my flight. I picked up the bucket and just said, “That’s my bucket.” Then I turned and ran to catch my plane again. The people gave me a clear path, even though I was no longer waving my ice ax around.

I made my plane and sat in the backseat, by myself, okay with my bucket and ice ax. The flight attendant came back after we got in the air, and in a nice calm voice asked, ‘Where are you coming from?” I told her the Antarctic, and she asked, “How did you get to the San Francisco airport?” I told her it had all been military transportation. She just said, “Well, that explains a lot,” and left. It wasn’t until then, that I realized what had just happened. I chuckled to myself all the way home.

When I got home, I looked in the mirror and I even scared myself.