Posted in opinion

SCREAMING FOR ICE CREAM

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By Suzanne Sparrow Watson

Well, here we are in the dog days of summer.  The Olympics are over and college football is still a couple of weeks away.  My house is a construction zone, resplendent with caution tape, and the forecast predicts temperatures over 103 for the next week.  So what’s a girl to do? The only solution is to eat ice cream.  I love ice cream in the summer, but the prices of those little pints at the grocery store are ridiculous. So, a couple of months ago I bought the Ninja Creami “frozen treat” machine and I’ve been eating ice cream every day since.  Sometimes twice a day.  The fantastic thing about the Creami is that you really can make anything in it – sorbet, smoothies, gelato and, of course, ice cream.  I realized in researching the machine that there was potential that I could end up with my doctor ordering Ozempic for me by the end of summer – everything made in the machine looked so good.  Luckily I found a couple of groups on Facebook that are dedicated to making healthy, high protein, frozen desserts.  Which is why I have indulged so much and lost weight in the process.  More on that in a bit.

Emperor Nero Claudius Caesar

Eating ice cream every day got me to wondering what genius came up with it to begin with.  Oddly, no specific person has officially been credited with inventing ice cream. Its origins date back as far as 200 B.C., when people in China created a dish of rice mixed with buffalo milk that was then frozen by being packed in snow. Somehow that doesn’t grab me.  Emperor Nero Claudius Caesar of Rome was said to have sent people up to the mountains to collect snow and ice which would then be flavored with juice and fruit—kind of like a first century snow cone. These early “ice creams” were obviously a luxury indulged in by the rich, as not everyone had the ability to send servants up the mountains to collect snow for them.  One of the first places to serve ice cream to the general public was Café Procope in France, which started serving it in the late 17th century. The ice cream was made from a combination of milk, cream, butter, and eggs. However, it was still primarily a treat for the elite and was not yet popular among every class.

Jefferson and his ice cream

The first mention of ice cream in America appeared in 1744, when a Scottish colonist visited the house of Maryland Governor Thomas Bladen wrote about the delicious strawberry ice cream he had while dining there.  Our Founding Fathers were great lovers of ice cream; in between writing up of the Declaration of Independence Thomas Jefferson wrote his own recipe for vanilla ice cream.  Talk about multi-tasking! Up until the 1800s, ice cream was mostly a treat reserved for special occasions as it couldn’t be stored for long due to the lack of insulated freezers. People would have ice cut from lakes in the winter and store it in the ground or brick ice houses, which were insulated with straw.

Ice cream wasn’t big business until Jacob Fussell built an ice cream factory in Pennsylvania in 1851 and industrial refrigeration came into being in the 1870’s. In the late 1800s, ice cream soared in popularity and new recipes began to emerge. Soda fountains emerged in 1874, and with them came the invention of the ice cream soda. Religious leaders condemned indulging in ice cream sodas on Sundays and set up “blue laws” banning their serving, which is thought by many to be how ice cream sundaes came about.  Evidence seems to indicate that shop owners got around the problem by serving the ice cream with syrup and none of the carbonation and called them “ice cream Sundays.” Today, it is estimated that over 1.6 billion gallons of ice cream and related frozen dairy products are produced annually in the United States alone.

The latest data I could find indicates that Americans eat four gallons of ice cream per person each year on average. Four gallons is child’s play when you’re eating “healthy” ice cream.  I figure that a conservative estimate is that I’ve eaten 12 gallons of it since Memorial Day.  But here’s the secret:  I use reduced fat milk, almond milk or protein shakes as my base.  I put in a little non-fat cottage cheese and yogurt, then add flavorings (usually cocoa, peppermint or coffee), protein powder, collagen peptides, and truvia to sweeten.  Sometimes if I’m feeling extra healthy, I’ll make a pint of fruit ice cream.  But regardless of the flavor, I ALWAYS add in dark chocolate chips at the end.  I know it sounds like it would taste healthy vs decadent, but believe me, it tastes like the real thing. I never want summer to end.

Posted in Family • Historical

Recalling Vietnam

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by Bob Sparrow

Warrant Officer Dale Barnes

I recently read the novel, The Women, by Kristin Hannah, which is a #1 bestseller and an excellent read about a woman who volunteers for the Army as a nurse and joins other women nurses in Vietnam during the war. These women were on the receiving end of those MedEvac helicopters that delivered the wounded soldiers to the closest mobile hospital.  It got me thinking about my brother-in-law, Dale Barnes, who was one of those helicopter pilots delivering those wounded soldiers.  When I was back in Minnesota for his mom’s 98th birthday, I had a chance to sit down with him and have him talk about his Vietnam experience.

Dale joined the Army in May 1969, enlisting for helicopter training, as he was always fascinated with helicopters from watching them as a boy on the family’s farm in Minnesota.  He started his basic training in Fort Polk, Louisiana, then went for basic flight training at Fort Walters, Texas, and then to Fort Rucker, Alabama for advanced flight training, where he earned his wings.  He was then sent to Fort Sam Houston, Texas for medical training, as everyone in a rescue helicopter needed to know basic medical procedures.

In August of 1970, he was deployed to Chu Lai, Vietnam, where he was initially a co-pilot on a UH-1H (Huey) helicopter doing MedEvac operations, which meant flying into combat zones, with no gun on board, only a red cross on the chopper, that the Viet Cong ignored.  He soon moved up to the pilot position, with a crew on the Huey consisting of a pilot, a co-pilot, a medic, and a crew chief (sort of a handyman, maintenance guy, who could hopefully fix things that got damaged on the aircraft).

The term given to these pilots was ‘Dust Off Pilot’; DUST OFF was the ‘call sign’ that came from the very first Evac helicopter unit, the 57th Medical Detachment, Medical

Services Corps, U.S. Army.

Dale’s UH-1H “Huey”

If you Google ‘Dust Off Pilot’ here’s what you get:

“During the Vietnam War, 90 Dust Off pilots were killed and nearly 380 were wounded; 121 crew members were killed and 545 were wounded. To be a Dustoff crew member was to accept a 1 in 3 chance of being killed or wounded. Yet everyone who volunteered to fly these missions of mercy accepted the grim odds”

Wow!!!  After I read that, I thanked Dale again for his service!

Most of the time when they were called in to pick up the wounded, they were escorted by gunship helicopters that went in before them to help quell any enemy fire.  But, gunships weren’t always available, so the pilot would have to ask his crew if they still wanted to go in, as they could say ‘No’ and they would not go in.  Dale says there were a number of occasions when they didn’t have gunships go in before them, and everytime he asked his crew if they still wanted to go in to pick up wounded soldiers, they always said ‘Yes’.

I asked ‘Chopper’ (Dale’s call sign) about a typical day in the life of a Dust Off pilot in Vietnam during the war.  He said there really wasn’t a ‘typical day’, as one day you may have a

‘Jungle Penetration’ pick up

clear landing zone, without enemy fire, so it’s a routine pick-up, but that rarely happened.  A typical ‘day’, might be at night, when they always flew ‘dark’ (no lights at landing), no GPS, all visual flying.  Or they might be asked to do a ’Jungle Penetration’ pick up, where there is no landing zone, so the helicopter hovers over the trees and lowers a long cable with three seats on it for pickup of men who did not need to be on a stretcher and could hold on to the cable while being lifted into the helicopter.  Dale estimates that during the year he was in Vietnam, he flew about 750 missions!  During that time, he was shot at all the time, but his helicopter was never shot down and he was never injured.  He says he’s most proud of never recieving a Purple Heart!  His closest call was when he had a bullet fly about a foot over his head and rattle around in the cockpit.

Dale, as civilian Medivac pilot

After his tour of duty, he came back to the states and remained in the Army the next 20 years doing various jobs – being a flight instructor, flying VIPs around, as well as tours of duty in Japan and Germany.  After retiring from the service, Dale became an AirEvac pilot in civilian life – doing that for the next 24 years! 

There’s an old pilot adage that says, “You always want your number of landings to equal your number of takeoffs.”  In just over 45 years of flying a helicopter, Dale flew over 12,000 hours WITHOUT AN ACCIDENT and without being injured!

Thank you for your service, Dale, for saving countless lives, both military and civilian!

 

Posted in opinion

A YEAR

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By Suzanne Sparrow Watson

Yesterday marked one year since Alan died.  Some days it seems like yesterday, others like it was 100 years ago. His death hit me harder than I had anticipated, and I was surprised by that. Logically, I should have been prepared for it. After all, in the last ten months of his life he was diagnosed with both early Alzheimer’s and oral cancer.  Add to that he was nine years older than me; even the planning documents from our financial advisor and estate attorney assumed he would die first. I’ve also spent a lot of time over the past few years researching and co-writing a book about widowhood. Given all of this, I presumed I was mentally braced for the day when he was no longer by my side. I wasn’t. His death shattered my heart into a million pieces and at times I felt that it was almost too hard to go on. In the weeks after Alan died a widowed friend called me often to check on me and at one point I told her none of the widows I knew, nor any of the ones I’d researched, had accurately described how horrible it is to become a widow.  Her response was, “No one wanted to scare you.”

When I mentioned this conversation to Bob, he told me that maybe I should take a stab at writing a book or article on the subject.  I contemplated that, but in the end, decided it was more productive to focus on gaining strength than delving further into the subject of widowhood.  I have not written about my experiences as a widow in this blog, and after today, my intent is not to write about them again.  But I have learned some things that might be helpful to others who will experience the loss of a spouse, and some tips for those who want to support a widowed friend.  So here goes.

It is impossible to overemphasize how much it means to have people reach out to express their sympathy. I was overwhelmed by all the wonderful cards, notes, texts, and emails that I received after Alan died.  I have kept all of them and occasionally read them again.  It reminds me that other people also remembered him, and in ways large and small, they also shared my loss.  On the flip side, I was stunned by the people who never acknowledged his death.  People he had played golf with on a regular basis, others I had socialized with for years.  When I mentioned to a friend how hurt I was by this, she said, “Well, you know, some people just don’t know what to say.”

I find it odd that grown people can’t express the most basic of condolences.  There are social skills we should cultivate in this regard as we grow older, and that is one of them. When we are young our parents teach us to say “please” and “thank you”. As we advance in years, the polite phrase we need to learn is, “I’m sorry for your loss”. The sad fact is that it will come in handy on an increasingly frequent basis. That simple acknowledgement might seem minor or even trite, but believe me, it means the world to someone who has lost their loved one. I will never forget all the people who reached out – nor will I ever forget those who didn’t.

I quickly discovered that widowhood is one of those life experiences that you can’t understand until you go through it. Nothing really prepares you for the complete absence of your spouse; when they are gone there is a gaping hole that cannot be filled by any amount of activity or companionship of others. One of my favorite authors, Joan Didion, wrote a book, The Year of Living Magically, after her husband died.  Didion brilliantly wrote, “Grief turns out to be a place none of us know before we reach it. So, when someone says to you, ‘I can’t imagine what you’re going through’, they are right.  Here lies the heart of the difference between grief as we imagine it and grief as it is: the unending absence that follows, the void, the very opposite of meaning, the relentless succession of moments during which we will confront the experience of meaninglessness itself.”

If that sounds depressing, it is. Widowhood kicks the hell out of your confidence and outlook. For most of the past year I lamented that I would never be happy again, that my peak of happiness was my marriage to Alan, and it died with him. There were times when I went three days without showering or seeing another human being. I woke up early every day, crying before I even got out of bed. I not only missed him and all the wonderful times we had, but I missed being married.  I missed having someone in my life to plan with, to depend on for companionship, to care for, and who loved me beyond measure. Many days I didn’t see how I was going to survive and often felt overwhelmed.

I was lucky to be surrounded by widowed friends who offered guidance that came from their hard-won experience. They reached out with wise advice: “Take it an hour at a time”, “Don’t do anything you don’t feel like doing”, “Put one foot in front of the other and just keep going”, “Write a journal so you can look back on your journey and mark your progress”, were just some of the suggestions.  One of the best was: “Write down the events and conversations that occurred directly before and after his death. Ten years from now those details will have faded in your memory, and you’ll be glad you have that memorialized.” I didn’t need to wait ten years. Just two weeks ago I re-read my notes and discovered I had mis-remembered a critical detail.  I was so glad I had a contemporaneous account of events to set my memory straight.

Hopefully you have a good support network, because when you’re widowed the love and support of family and good friends are critical to moving forward.  I am lucky to have had both.  Every day I would receive a phone call from someone to either check on me or ask me to join them for lunch or dinner.  Those moments brought me relief from the grief, even if it was temporary. Which brings me to the subject of asking for and receiving help. People really want to help, and to be asked to help you actually makes them feel better.  As we age, we all seek a greater sense of community with those who are on the same path. So, asking a friend to pick something up at the grocery store or help lift a heavy package, or just come sit with you, is to allow them to do something meaningful for you.  This was – and still is – a hard lesson for me.  I consider myself to be independent and hate to ask favors, but it is another essential skill to learn.

Everyone’s journey is different, and one wise piece of advice I got early on was “You do grief your way”.  So, despite people encouraging me to socialize more, I know that I require a lot of “processing” and alone time. I went to see a counselor once, and she said I had PTSD caused by the nine-day interval between the diagnosis of Alan’s cancer metastasis and his death. The month before he died his oncologist talked about a procedure he might do two years down the line, the week before he was out pruning bushes in the yard. So, his rather sudden death simply didn’t allow enough time for me to process the events I’d experienced.  Much like a dog that goes into a corner when it’s not feeling well, I needed time and space. The people in my support system all wanted to do something to make my life better, they wanted to help “fix” me and get me back to my old self. But I am a believer that “fixing” cannot come from an external source.  It’s up to us as individuals to set ourselves right, so I selectively accepted, and rejected, their invitations. The counselor also cautioned that I should only be around people who could fill me up, not drain me.  A widowed friend said something similar, “You don’t have anything to give right now, so spend time with people who can help fill your tank.” My close friends and family understood – and supported – my need for limited social engagement and didn’t push me.  I will forever be grateful to them for that.

Conversely, I believe that when you’re grieving and you accept a social invitation, there is an obligation to be as cheerful as possible.  No one wants to be around someone who is sad or, worse yet, crying.  I took the attitude that if I could slap a smile on my face and be good company, the likelihood of me receiving invitations to socialize again would rise exponentially.  At first, I found that very hard. At my weekly dinner with my bocce ball team, I would sit next to my best friend, Marge, and she could always sense my struggle. She would grab my hand under the table and give it a squeeze of encouragement and I would make it through the night. In time, the dinners became easier.

People told me I was strong, and I’d come through this, but they were remembering the person I used to be.  When you’re widowed you realize that life is never going to be the same, you are never going to be the same, and regaining confidence and resilience is not a given. It’s very hard to hear people call you strong when you’re not. For almost a year I couldn’t imagine ever feeling happy or competent – much less strong – again. I kept thinking about my younger, more capable, self. In my early 30’s I lived on my own, bought a three-bedroom ranch house, had a good career and an active social life.  Over the past year I often wondered where that young woman had gone.

But by early June I was sick of myself; sick of feeling depressed, sick of every room needing a Kleenex box, sick of not seeing a future. And then as often happens in life, a small thing caused me to turn a corner: I decided to recover the leather headboard on my bed.  I could see some indentations where Alan had leaned against it while reading every night.  Every time I entered the room, I saw his imprint on it.  So, I went to a local upholstery store and picked out some lovely fabric to recover it.  Just making that small change gave me a feeling of control and empowerment. Maybe too much. A few weeks ago, I hired a contractor to update several areas of the house. Alan loved this house and before he died, he urged me to keep it.  I have decided to do so, and I can’t think of a better tribute to him than to finish updating it as we had intended.

A few days after visiting the upholstery store I realized the heaviness I felt for so many months had lifted. I tried to analyze what I was feeling and concluded that it was happiness.  Had it really been so long since I’d been happy that I didn’t even recognize it anymore?  Apparently so. But having been so far down has made the rise even sweeter. I’ve earned this happiness.  I don’t often give myself credit, but I will say that I’m proud that I have survived the storm and come out the other side stronger.  Not yet strong, but getting there. I know that I will still have some tough times ahead, and I now have confidence that I can get through them.

I’ve also reconciled that the aggressive cancer that spelled Alan’s demise prevented a much longer, more painful journey for both of us from his early Alzheimer’s diagnosis.  Thirty years ago, after witnessing his father’s journey with Alzheimer’s, he asked me to promise that I would never let him get to that point. An understandable request, but a hard one to fulfill.  I thank God we were spared that journey.

Alan, and our marriage, will forever be the best chapter in the story of my life. I will miss him always and will carry him in my heart until the day I die.  But I’ve come to realize that life unfolds with a purpose and a plan.  I now believe that he is at peace. And finally – at last – so am I.

Posted in travel

As Suspected, I’m Better at Cruising than Golfing

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by Bob Sparrow

Pride of America Golf Ahoy ship route

I left you last as we were just boarding Norwegian Cruise Line’s ‘Pride of America’ on Saturday afternoon in Honolulu.  If I’m being honest, it’s not the best ship we’ve ever been on, in fact, it might have been the worst – it’s fairly dated, with small cabins and marginal entertainment and food.  We’ve sailed on Norwegian before and have been very happy with the ship, but this one is a little tired.  But that is made up for with the fabulous golf courses we will be playing over the next week and the fact that this ship does have the ‘unlimited drink package’, which in Hawaii, is a very valuable thing.  Where else would you even try a Rebellious Fish, a Funky Monk, or a Sparkling Garden?  Yep, I tried them all!

Interesting fact about Honolulu: Waikiki Beach is almost entirely manmade.

Sunday: We spend the night, apparently going in circles as Maui is only a short distance away, so when we wake up on Sunday morning, we are docked at Kahului Harbor, by the airport.  Our driver meets us at the ship and we travel past the devastated-by-fire remains of Lahaina (so heartbreaking), on our way to the Plantation Course at Kapalua.  As many of you know, the Plantation Course is where the PGA opens their season every year in January and it is a very difficult course, with lots of elevation.  It seems I was really focusing on the beautiful views that day rather than golf, as I continued to litter the grounds with a number of my golf balls; at least I know they have a beautiful final resting place.

Monday: Our ship stayed in Maui and our driver picks us up at the ship in the morning and takes us to the other end of the island to the Emerald Course at Wailea.  It was another beautiful day, on another beautiful, and more friendly, golf course.  No balls put to rest on this day.  After the mandatory ‘after-the-round-cocktail’ our driver picks us up and returns us to the ship.  We have dinner reservations at Cagney’s Steak House on board and have a very nice meal.  Entertainment was a little light, as we saw a comedian, who was sometimes funny.

Mauni Lani

Interesting fact about Maui: Maui is home to the largest dormant volcano in the world – Mt. Haleakalā

Tuesday/Wednesday: We wake up this morning on the Hilo side of the Big Island, so with a day of rest from golf, and nothing we haven’t seen or want to see in Hilo, we hang out on the ship.  That evening, the ship sails around to the other side of the island to the Kona side, where we get off in the morning and play golf at Mauna Lani, a beautiful oceanfront golf course that is magnificent!  Jack & JJ Budd, who are vacationing with their grandkids on the Big Island, meet us prior to our tee time.  Another beautiful day as we are amazed by the homes on this magnificent golf course.

Back on the boat and we make the evening voyage from the Big Island to Kauai.

Interesting fact about The Big Island: Mauna Kea Volcano is the tallest mountain in the world from the sea floor at 33,000 feet (Mt. Everest, the tallest mountain on land is 29,032 feet)

Linda & me with Tracy Sanborn

Thursday/Friday: We awake the next morning in Nawilwili Bay on the island of Kauai, where we disembark and are met by our driver, who takes us to Poipu Bay Golf Course.  The course and day are beautiful, but very windy, so golf takes a back seat to great views and putting some balls in their beautiful final resting place.  We stay docked in Kauai for the evening and play Kohalani Ocean Course, with many holes right along the coast line.  Yes, I put some balls to rest here, but they didn’t mind, it is a beautiful, tropical golf course.  A bonus was that we were met after the round of golf by my cousin, Tracy Sanborn, who I hadn’t see in over 50 years (her mom and my dad were siblings); she just happened to be staying at her timeshare in Princeville with her son, daughter-in-law and their 6-month-old baby boy.  Great to see them!

Interesting fact about Kauai: Kauai is the wettest place on earth, Mt. Waialeale receives an average of 450 inches of rain a year!

Friday morning we are back in Honolulu, where we disembark, head to the airport for our flight home, full of golf aches and pains, and some extra baggage at the belt level from that ‘unlimited drink’ package, but also filled with lots of great memories.

 

Posted in opinion

AGED TO PERFECTION

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By Suzanne Sparrow Watson

John Goodenough

There’s been a lot written lately about the age of our President.  “Too old to run” is the prevailing theme. They are wrong – age has less to do with it than cognitive ability.  I have some insight and experience with this issue and what I’ve learned is that age cannot be generalized.  I’m tired of hearing age 81 referred to as “elderly”, as if that means that all people of that age are ready for “the home”.  There are people in their 80’s and 90’s who can run circles around people of any age.  And generally, they possess common sense – something that is a rare commodity these days.   As recently as 2019 the Nobel Prize for chemistry was awarded to John B. Goodenough, (who certainly was) for his work on lithium batteries.  He was 97! Is he an outlier?  Of course.  But then again, so are most Nobel Prize winners. He died last year at age 100, still working to improve the all-solid-state battery.

Over the next few weeks the Olympics will showcase young people at the peak of their physical strength and endurance.  They are the very antithesis of “too old”, although Simone Biles, at age 27, is jokingly referred to as the “grandma” on the gymnastics team.  But to prove that age is just a number, I went in search of octogenarians who exhibit that same Olympian standard of excellence. I didn’t have to look far.  Here are just a few:

        David Blaylock

David Blaylock – age 80 – won the USA Track and Field 100-mile Championships in his age group in a time of in a time of 29 hours, 47 minutes and 29 seconds.  I’m assuming that did not include any time for a nap.  His closest competitor, “Fast Eddie” Rousseau, of Minnesota, is 83.  Blaylock attributes his endurance to mental toughness.

Flo Meiler

Florence “Flo” Meiler – in 2022, at the age of 87, Meiler broke two American records in the High Jump and the Hurdles events at the USA Track and Field Masters Indoor Championships.  Meiler was not always an athlete, in fact, she admits that she used to indulge in French fries on a regular basis.  But at age 60 she began to work out and found her passion.  When asked how she works out six days a week and competes in events, she says, “You can do whatever you set your mind to.”

 

Johanna Quaas

Johana Quaas – has been certified as the world’s oldest gymnast.  Born in 1925, Johanna started in gymnastics at the age of 9, but then quit after WWII. She picked up gymnastics again at the age of 57. At the young age of 91, she impressed the crowds at Berlin with a stunning performance and flawless moves. In her words, “If you’re fit, it is easier to master life.” I think she’s right.

The Over-80 US Hockey Team – The U.S. men’s team won the Canada 150 Cup tournament in February of this year.  The team, led by 84-year-old coach Ken McKinnon only came together in the fall of 2023.  McKinnon loves to compete and encourages other older athletes to get in the game.  He says, “You can challenge yourself to get better and keep up for a number of years. It takes effort to go out there and do it, but once you get out there, you’ll have fun.”

Gladys Burrill

Gladys Burrill is sadly no longer with us.  She died in 2019 at the age of 100, but she is worth mentioning because she ran her first marathon at the age of 86 and then went on to complete 5 more marathons. At the young age of 92, she became the oldest woman to run the Honolulu Marathon. She credited her success to eating healthy and exercising.  Shoot – I’m out of breath walking from the bedroom to the kitchen!

There are many more examples I could cite, but you get the point.  In reading about these master athletes I noticed one common trait – mental toughness.  I think all of them believe that despite their age, they can do anything.  The narrative about age needs to shift, so we assess cognitive ability and dispose of the age-old canard that someone is “too old” to be successful in their endeavors. As for me, I plan on eating cake until a ripe old age.

Posted in travel

Hawaiian Cruising & Golf Adventure

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by Bob Sparrow

View from our room at Hylton Hawaiian Village Hotel

I’m coming to you this week from Hawaii.  Linda and I, along with long-time friends and neighbors, Mark & Kathy Johnson, departed for our 50th state on July 4th.  We are on a ‘golf cruise’, called Golf Ahoy on Norwegian Cruise Line; the cruise includes time in Waikiki and golf on Maui, The Big Island and Kauai.

We arrived on Oahu on the afternoon of July 4th, and headed to the Hilton Hawaiian Village on Waikiki Beach, where we caught some Independence Day fireworks.  It was the first time Linda and I had spent any time on Oahu since our honeymoon nearly 45 years ago.  We enjoyed a great 4th of July dinner at Aoki Teppanyaki, with a most talented and humorous chef, then stopped at the Tapa Bar for a night cap, which is conveniently located crawling distance to the elevator to our room on the 14th floor.

Friday morning Linda and I were picked up for our tour of Pearl Habor (the Johnson had already been there, done that).  As expected, it was an informative and moving experience, starting with our bus driver/tour guide, who was full of amazing facts surrounding the events leading up to the Japanese surprise attack.  Once on-site, we saw a short movie on Pearl Harbor, toured the museum, and then I went on a separate tour on site (Linda’s claustrophobia prevented her from joining me) that was of the USS Bowfin, a submarine stationed in the Pacific during WW II that sunk 44 enemy vessels – amazing how tight those quarters were!  We then got on a boat and went out to the Arizona Memorial.  You only get to spend about 15 minutes at the memorial, where 1,177 men are interned in the Arizona, where you can still see oil leaking up to the surface.  An interesting fact is that 25 crew members of the Arizona that survived the war and have since died, asked that their remains be taken back to the USS Arizona, where they can join their fellow crew members.

USS Arizona

In the afternoon Linda and I went to the Hale Koa Hotel, a military hotel right on the beach where I could show my Veterans ID card and get a discount on our lunch and drinks.

Friday night we enjoyed a wonderful dinner at Bali Oceanfront restaurant, noted for it’s great steak and seafood, where, during the middle of our dinner, we left our table and went outside on the beach to watch the five minute ‘Every Friday Night Fireworks’ on Waikiki.  Awesome!!!

Yes, Waikiki was a little crowded on this holiday weekend, maybe a lot crowded, but it’s easy to see why, it’s amazing!!  I don’t know how many times I said, “I love Hawaii’, but I love the people, I love the vegetation, I love the weather, I love the sunsets, I love the tropical drinks, I love the feel, I just love Hawaii.  I know Linda gets tired of hearing it, but . . . it just gets me!  And I get it!

Saturday morning, we had time for a nice breakfast, I had to haave the macadamia nut/banana pancakes; we were then picked up and taken to the ship, the Norwegian Cruise Lines’ ‘Pride of America’ to start our Hawaii-Golf adventure – and with my game, it’s always an adventure!  All Aboard and stay tuned!!

Bali Oceanfront Restaurant – Waikiki

Waikiki Beach fireworks

NCL Pride of America

 

 

Posted in opinion

HAMBURGERS, HOT DOGS AND SHOOFLY PIE

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By Suzanne Sparrow Watson

Here we are…the week of the 4th of July where thoughts turn to our country’s independence.  Right about now I’m guessing most people desire some independence from our politicians, but this being an election year I think we’re stuck with four more months of campaign ads and robo calls.  Hopefully no more debates.  But that’s a subject for another week.  This week I want to focus on an important part of any July 4th celebration – the dessert.  Last week I was looking for some ideas for a 4th of July cake and found most every food site suggests a cake with fruit on it – ideally in the shape of the American flag.  Fruit on cake???  Pies or tarts, yes, but not cake!  Cake and frosting should contain sufficient amounts of sugar and butter that you stay just this side of diabetes and clogged arteries.  I went down a rabbit hole looking for unique dessert ideas and discovered that people are quite weird – or desperate – when coming up with a proper dessert.  Here’s just a sampling of what I found:

              Shoofly pie

The Shoofly Pie – this cake actually has a tie to the 4th of July.  Shoofly pie is a molasses-based pie with a crumbly, streusel-like topping. No one knows for sure how the pie got its name, but it might be from the fact that its sweet and sticky surface tends to attract flies.  Now there’s an appetizing thought.  It might also, and more likely, be named after an early brand of molasses called Shoofly Molasses. According to some sources, the recipe for shoofly pie dates to 1876, originating with a crust-free molasses cake called centennial cake that was served to celebrate the 100th anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence in Philadelphia. Other sources attribute the recipe to the German immigrants of Pennsylvania Dutch country in Lancaster, Pennsylvania, who may have used molasses in a variation of an older British recipe known as a treacle tart. This sweet and crumbly pie is still popular among the Amish and Mennonite communities of Pennsylvania and Ohio. Well, I say let them have it.

The Tomato Soup Cake – this is wrong on so many levels.  The recipe dates back to 1922, and some accounts say the dessert was popular among Irish immigrants in New England. Personally, I think they should have stuck with Guinness. It is said that the tomato soup produces a moist red-orange cake that doesn’t taste like tomatoes at all, thanks to the cinnamon, cloves, and nutmeg in the mix. I’ll take their word for it.  The cake was popular through the 1930s and 1940s, when Depression-era and wartime shortages called for culinary creativity. People sought out affordable substitutes that could stand in for pricier ingredients (such as tomatoes) without sacrificing flavor. In the 1940s, the Campbell Soup Company began experimenting with variations on the tomato soup cake recipe and, in 1960, printed a version on its tomato soup label — the first recipe to appear on a soup can. I don’t know who thought of putting tomatoes, fresh or in soup form, in a cake, but I would venture it was someone who never had a slice of Death by Chocolate.

Carrot Pudding – first, the word pudding is used in the British sense, loosely meaning dessert.  Carrot cake has been around for a while and in a pinch, it isn’t bad (especially if there is pineapple rather than raisins).  But before there was carrot cake, there was carrot pudding. A recipe in the 1591 English cookbook describes carrot pudding as a savory pudding made of chopped liver, breadcrumbs, spices, dates, and sugar that is then stuffed inside a hollow carrot. By the 18th century, carrot pudding had evolved into a sweet dessert baked in a pastry shell, similar to pumpkin pie. Another variation, called steamed carrot pudding, was made with shredded carrots and potatoes and steamed in a gelatin mold. In my opinion no good dessert contains the words “gelatin mold”. Regardless of its preparation, carrot pudding sounds like something you might serve to people you never want to come to dinner again.

After reading about these odd alternatives to cake, I decided that fruit in a cake might not be such a bad alternative.  Still, as it turns out I’ll be going to our club’s BBQ on Thursday and we have an awesome pastry chef.  While he may get cute with a berry 4th of July cake, I can guarantee he won’t be slipping any chopped liver into the mix.

Happy 4th of July to everyone!

 

Posted in Family

Family Matriarch Celebrates 98th Birthday

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by Bob Sparrow

Phyllis with kids Dale, Linda, Starlet

Phyllis (McMillan) Barnes was born on June 11, 1926.  She celebrated her 98th birthday in Rochester, Minnesota with her three children and their extended families.  The event took place at daughter and son-in-law Starlet and Donnie Brummer’s home.  A quick review of Phyllis’ achievement-driven progeny is always interesting.  The party included two of Starlet’s daughters, Denise, who is an Advance Placement Calculus and Trigonometry teacher, and Debbie, who is a Doctor of Pharmacy in Minneapolis, her other daughter, not in attendance, Melissa, is an architect in Houston.  Denise & Gene (who works in computer information systems) Cobb’s kids are Garrett, who is in a doctorate program in Huntsville, AL for aeronautical engineering; his girlfriend, Sydney, has a degree in Industrial Engineering.  Daughter, Lindsay works in Washington DC for the United Nations Foundation, and son, Will, is at the University of Wisconsin in Electrical Engineering.  Debbie and Paul (who has a degree in Architecture and Environmental Design) Klein’s kids are Anna, who graduated from Sacred Heart University in Connecticut with a Biology and Chemistry degree and was captain of the ice hockey team, and Ella, who is completing her degree in Biology and Chemistry at St. Benedict.  Son, Matt, who was not in attendance works in finance for Edward Jones in Denver.  Donnie’s son, Dan Brummer’s family was also in attendance, Dan also works in finance.  How did I respond to all these ‘brainiacs’ around me when asked about my education?  I whipped on my glasses (they make me look smarter), looked them straight in the eye, and said, “I am a college grad-u-ate – I have a degree in P.E.”, hoping that they would think those were initials for Physics & Engineering.  Then I remembered how smart they were and also remembered an old Abe Lincoln quote,  “Better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to speak and to remove all doubt”.

OK, let’s get back to Phyllis, who started all this!  Before I tell you about my ‘interview’ with her, you need to know this about her: Most people who spend any time with her say, “I hope I’m that sharp when I’m her age”.  I’m going to amend that by saying “I wish I was that sharp NOW!”

I sat down with my delightful mother-in-law, who is surely one of the sweetest people you would ever meet, while in Rochester to have her talk about her long life:

Sydney, The Cobbs: Gene, Will, Garrett, Denise

The Brummers: Andrew, Jacob, Dan, Nicole, Lauren and Donnie

She was born in a farmhouse, not a hospital, in Lanora, MN, weighing 12 pounds – quite large for someone who now weighs less than 100 pounds!  Her mom and dad owned a farm that had pigs, chickens and cattle.  Their house had no electricity, as light was provided by kerosene lamps. They also had no refrigerator and not even an ice box, they cooled their food by putting it in a jar and putting the jar in cool water.

She started school at four years old; the school was called the ‘Cigar Box’ and had 12 seats, although there were only five students.  She graduated from nearby Canton High School and after graduation went to ‘Teacher Training School’ and became a teacher after one year.  She met and married Warren Barnes in 1945 when she was 19.  Their house had no inside toilets, that wouldn’t come until 1954.

After Warren filled his military obligation and got out of the service in 1946, they moved from northern California, where he was stationed, to Minnesota and bought her parents’ dairy farm which they worked for the next 25 years, milking 20 jersey cows twice every day, 6:00 in the morning and 6:00 in the evening – weekend, holiday . . . everyday!  They were involved in the church and many local community activities with their three kids, Starlet, Dale and Linda.

At five years old, Linda, sang at the county fair and a few years later, was asked to be a square dance caller at the Texas National Square Dance Convention.  Ultimately, her older siblings joined her to form the Barnes Trio, who sang all over Minnesota and won many singing contests.

After selling the farm Warren & Phyllis moved to Minneapolis and Phyllis worked 16 years for Controlled Data putting circuit boards together and Warren worked 20 years for International Paper.  They then retired and spent winters in Arizona for the next 24 years.

The Kleins: Anna, Paul, Debbie

Phyllis now resides in Homestead ‘Assisted Living’ Facility in Rochester, where she plays cards (500 and cribbage) every day, she also goes to exercise class, sometimes leads it!  Additionally, she goes to ‘coffee & chat’ and plays bingo twice a week, and enjoys the outside entertainment that comes in twice a month.

I asked this incredible lady what the secret was to her long life.  She said, “Great family, great friends and a positive attitude!”

Favorite quote: I don’t know if this is her favorite quote, but it’s mine.  When she was jokingly asked which son-in-law she liked better, Donnie or me, she replied: “I don’t like one any better than the other!”

 

 HAPPY BIRTHDAY PHYLLIS, AND MANY MORE!

 

Posted in opinion

THE NEW SCHOOL: NAKED ZOOM

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By Suzanne Sparrow Watson

I’ve been reading several articles about how to keep your brain engaged as you age.  Apparently playing endless games of Candy Crush aren’t doing anything to fire up my brain cells.  Knitting is good, as I have to use mathematics, but not often enough to make a difference.  So, I set out to find a way to stave off “mush brain” and quite happily discovered the Osher Lifelong Learning Institute (OLLI).  OLLI is a branch of The Bernard Osher Foundation, an organization that makes grants and endowment gifts to colleges, universities, and other non-profit organizations in four areas, among them lifelong learning institutes for seasoned adults.  Almost makes us sound like a rack of ribs. Nevertheless, I began to look into their programs.  First, I learned that OLLI is found on the campuses of 125 colleges and universities throughout the U.S. The class offerings are wide-ranging and are specifically developed for adults aged 50 or older who are interested in learning for the joy of learning. As a bonus, there are no tests and no grades.  Luckily for me there is a branch of OLLI at Arizona State University, so I signed up for the summer session.  Unfortunately, “summer” was defined as the month of June.  Well, who can blame them?  No one wants to be here in July and August.  Due to the brief length of the term, the classes are one-shot seminars, each lasting 90 minutes.  Some are in person, but most are on Zoom.  Zoom can be perilous – but more on that in a moment.

Will Ferrell, if he’d taken quantum physics

Since I was only committing 90 minutes of my life at a time, I decided I would sign up for some classes that are outside my wheelhouse.  First on the list – quantum physics.  The professor was an amazing young woman, who had a wonderful sense of humor and knew that she had a challenging – or challenged – audience.  After the first 30 minutes I was glad we were on a Zoom call, as my attention began to lapse, and I found myself drifting into thoughts of what I’d have for lunch.  I was not the only one – several people at the end volunteered that maybe they weren’t cut out for a career in quantum physics.  Still, it was interesting, and I only invested 90 minutes to learn that I need to stick to the social sciences.  I took an in-person class from a retired physics professor (can’t seem to avoid physics) who lectured on the history of Stonehenge.  He was fabulous – 90 years old and a testament to lifelong learning.  I participated in a Zoom class conducted by an ex-newspaper reporter who followed the Rolling Stones on their very first US tour back in the 60’s.  He had some wonderful insights and opinions about the music of the time and how it changed the recording and radio industries.

Next, I took a Zoom class on the life and works of George Gershwin.  This is where things got interesting.  At the beginning of the class the ASU administrator cautioned us that we must put our computers on mute, and that if we planned to walk around, eat, or do anything else that might be distracting, we needed to cut our video feed as well.  Almost everyone chose to cut the video, so that only our names appeared in the box.  About a minute after her cautions ended, a new person joined the call.  Her audio was silenced but her video feed was on.  She was clearly in her bathroom, with her closet in the background.  All we could see was her head, which was wrapped in a towel.  I thought maybe she was running late and had just ducked out of the shower.  That was confirmed a couple of minutes later when she stood up, revealing that she only had a towel wrapped around her.  What could possibly go wrong?  A few minutes later she went off-screen, only to return walking across the screen – NAKED.  She casually walked into her closet, obviously trying to decide what to wear, all the while showing us her assets.  Literally.  She then turned around and proceeded to put on her undergarments.  Finally, she donned a blouse, much to our collective relief.  She then sat down and proceeded to blow dry her hair.  I guess that was the gesture that sent the administrator over the edge, as she sent a private message to this woman to let her know her video was on.  In the group chat the woman replied, “Oh no.  Sorry!”  Well, it was too late for sorry.  I will never unsee what I saw.  To her credit, the woman blacked out her video, but she stayed on the call. I would have immediately packed my bags for Argentina.

I have five more seminars to attend this month, on subjects ranging from a Vietnam retrospective to Woodstock to the establishment of the 13, 14 and 15th amendments.  Luckily for me, OLLI at ASU added a true summer session, each class lasting six weeks in July and August.  I’m taking two classes: one on the great films from the 1920’s to the ’60’s and one on the automobile’s impact on society.  I highly encourage you to check out OLLI – the classes are wonderful, you might gain a brain cell, and it’s fun to learn with other people who are “seasoned”. But I must say the most important lesson learned so far: cut the video feed on a Zoom call.

Posted in travel

The Road Trip: The ‘Mother Lode’ Country and Back Home Again.

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by Bob Sparrow

Murphys Hotel

With Dennis at Murphys Hotel Bar

We left Lake Tahoe around 8:00 a.m. on a beautiful Thursday morning heading south; we took Highway 50 to Highway 49 heading into the ‘Gold Country’.  We drove through a good deal of burned forest, caused by the fire in 2021 that scorched more than 346 square miles of the Sierra Nevada Forest, destroying 1,000 structures, with over 50,000 residences being evacuated.  A real blight on an otherwise gorgeous drive.

We eventually hit Angel’s Camp and Sutter’s Mill, the place where gold was first discovered in California, leading to the gold rush of 1849.  We fortunately arrived one week after the famous, Calvaris County Frog Jumping Contest, made famous by Mark Twain, so the place was not overcrowded with tourists, like us!  I had called an old friend from Yorba Linda Country Club, Dennis Despie, who had relocated to the Mother Lode County, and we agreed to meet him at Murphys Historic Hotel ‘Queen of the Sierras since 1856’; in downtown Murphys for lunch.  It is a classic old hotel, with a great bar and bartender, Kurt, where we sat and had a delicious lunch and a cold beer and heard about the history of the place.  It was so good to see Denise again as he told us all about the area and how he and his family were doing.  After lunch, Jack and I took a walk around this quaint little town and we had to buy a T-shirt.

Don & Barbara Stutzman back in the day

Susan (Stutzman) Scarth (Remember her from our Novato visit!) had set up another meeting for us in this area with Barbara Stutzman, Don Stutzman’s, second wife and widow, she owns and operates a wedding venue site that we understand to be one of the premier wedding venues in America.  It’s called Union Hill Inn, you can check it out online.  We met and talked with Barbara for about 30 minutes in her cottage on the property and then she asked us if we wanted a tour, we said yes and got in a golf cart parked near by, and went about 50 feet and then the battery died.  That was the end of the tour, so, like you, we’ll have to check it out online, but it looked spectacular!  We headed into the quaint downtown of Sonora, where we walked down the main drag and found, of all things, a bar, The Iron Horse Saloon, where the bartender liked the story of our road trip so much that he bought us a drink, maybe two.  We spent our last night on the road at the Hotel Lumber Jack in Sonora.

A five-hour drive the next morning got us back to Santa Maria and, just like our journey’s beginning, we had dinner with Sharon and Deb & Steve Rau, but this time at their newly remodeled home – beautiful!  I spent the night at Jack & Sharon’s and drove home early the next morning.  Happy to be back home to Linda and my own bed, but filled with some extrodiary memories.

Days on the road: 10

Miles covered: 1,987

Number of counties visited: 32

Number of clouds seen during the 10-day trip: 3

Spending 10 days with my brother visiting friends and some of the most beautiful and iconic places in California: Priceless!