traveling up and down the blind highway

“Mom, this fruit juice tastes funny.”
My daughter complained.
“Let me taste it.”
Lifting the strawberry daiquiri to my nose, The strong aroma of dark rum assaulted my nostrils.
Honey, I think you got the wrong drink.” “Lets try a virgin daiquiri.”
In Aruba, there is no age limit for drinking. We all ordered virgin drinks. This was one of many surprises on the visit to this Caribbean port of call.
The island has reminders of their Dutch past. Several working windmills are found on the west side. Constant trade winds blow bending the Tamarack Trees to grow sideways, nature’s bonsai. Our twelve year old daughter, finishing her drink asked,”Where is our room?”
“Here, take the map.”
The Tamarin Resort sported a large pool near the shoreline. Wandering through two story bungalows, Ruth spots it first.
“Wow, Right on the beach.”
Grabbing her bathing suit, Ruth changed, following, her example, we watched as she played in the breakers.
“I’m hungry! whats to eat?”
“This is an all inclusive facility, check the map.”
“Pizza at the pool, all right!”
Sipping my drink, I watched as Ruth devoured a pizza.
In the room, we found descriptions of seven restaurants.
“Lets, try the barbecue.”
After ordering, we waited. The waiter brought raw seafood and veggies. He lit the gas grill in the middle of the table .
“Enjoy”
We were to cook our own meal, we made quite a mess of our table.
The next day, we signed up for a jeep tour. Two young men appeared with 5 jeeps.
“Who wants to drive?”
John said no, but three men jumped at the chance to drive a jeep overland. Over desert terrain, the leader pulled into an Ostrich farm.
“Would you like to feed the birds?”
A small boy nodded and he was given a bowl of feed. Looking worried, he extended the bowl towards the fenced birds.
“I could do that.” remarked Ruth.
Smiling, the host picked up ruth and deposited her and the food bowl into the enclosure. A half dozen of the ostriches circled her and lowered their heads to munch the seeds, while other tourists snapped photos. I was too worried to get a shot.
The next day, waiting at the bus stop, we rode to the town. In the port, a large cruise ship was moored to a weathered wharf. Shopping for souvenirs, we passed by an open shop advertising corn rolling for hair.
“Mom, Can I get my hair done in corn Rolls?”
“Let’s see how much it costs.”
The shop owner inspective Ruth tresses and quoted a price of one dollar a corn row.
“I think her hair will need 40 corn rolls”
How long will it take?”
“Come back in an hour.”
We left to explore the other shops. Returning in an hour, We saw that Ruth still had 40 corn rows and still had her left side to be done. Calling another assistant over, the owner admitted she under estimated the work.
Her fingers were cramping and she needed help to finish. Ruth ended up with 55 rows in her air. We gave ten dollars as an extra tip.
Riding on the yellow city bus back to the resort, We passed miles of empty beaches.
“Don’t people use the beaches?”
“This is in the middle of the week, they are working.”
That evening we tried another restaurant at the sister resort the Diva. It had a French restaurant. We had teased our daughter that she would be given snails to eat on her trip to France. To our chagrin, The appetizer was snails cooked in butter.
“Mom, The snails look gross.”
Maybe they will taste better than they look.”
My husband and Ruth balked and would not try them. I tried them and had to admit, they were correct. They were slimy.
The next day we took a tour to the northern end of the island. The terrain was arid and rocky. We toured a small chapel perched on a high cliff. Our guide informed us that in several weeks on Good Friday, many pilgrims would climb to the top for sunrise service.
” Mom, I need a bathroom!”
“Go ask our guide.””
After a short while, Ruth returned with an odd expression.
“I can wait until we get back to our hotel.”
“Why? What did he say?”
“He said the bushes on the right side of the chapel were for women. The boulders on the left were for men.”
We all decided to wait.
The tour ended on another high cliff overlooking the ocean. In the water scores of shark fins protruded Several large dump trucks turned to back up to the cliff’s edge.
The guide explained that each day the leftovers and food scraps were brought to this overlook and dumped into the ocean. The fish, especially the sharks, have learned to wait for the free meal. As the first truck dumped it’s load, violent activity churned the waters below. The ocean erupted as more sharks joined the melee.
Returning to our hotel were glad to use a real bathroom.
It was our final evening at the Tamarin. We thought to take an early evening swim. We put our beach bag on a rock away from the waves and waded into the ocean. We forgot to check the tide schedule. Looking down the beach , John saw the waves were over the rock outcropping and our bag was slowly floating out to sea.
Splashing through the water, John reached the bag before it disappeared. The next day we packed to return to our home. Our daughter commented to herself,
“Nice place to visit but there’s no place like the U.S.A.”
My husband and I agreed.

carolaspot@aol.com

This article was first posted in the Blind Perspective in 2017.
When I was in my early twenties, I was a part of a community theatre group. We performed musicals once a year in the local theatre.
The first year, We put on the musical,”,”Brigadoon”. I was young enough to be cast as a dancer in the chorus. During the practice sessions, I wore my glasses so I would be able to learn the steps and see where all the props and cast members were located.
As opening night approached, the director pointed out that young women of the 1600’s didn’t wear glasses. I was forced to perform without them. My sight was very poor without the glasses but I had learned all the dance steps and knew where all the props were to be placed.
On opening night, We had a dance number swirling around a large trunk as the leading lady packed her possessions before her wedding. Unfortunately for me the stage hands didn’t place the trunk in the correct position on the stage.
performing my steps, I fell head over heels into the open trunk. The dancing continue as I smiled and staying in character , extracted myself to continue to dance
One of the rules that you learn as am actor is never break character so after I did my flip I brushed myself off and continued to dance. I must have done a good job because my parents in the audience didn’t notice anything amiss.
When We preformed our next musical,”Fiddler On The Roof”The director cast me as an old grandma. He explained that I could keep my wired rim glasses on in that costume. I would be forced to move much slower . I didn’t have a problem and preformed flawlessly.
Performing with low vision has its challenges. With a little planning, a person with low vision can perform with confidence.
Now I have no vision. Continuing to perform for groups, I give oral readings of my poetry. It is important to encourage the next generation of writers to reach for the stars.

Star Gazing

I see the light
So far from my reach
Dust sprinkles me with hope
carving the peace from the whole
choosing to save
what to discard
polished
they take a place
in my world

Carolaspot@aol.com

August 21,2023

Last week, a hurricane passed south of the Hawaiian Island chain. Lightening strikes kindled fires in the dry foliage. Fueled by 60 mph winds, fires burned on all the Islands. The worst damage was seen on the island of Maui.
We visited Maui in the winter of 2003. The island was known for it’s many pristine beaches and clear waters. A reef forms a protective coral barrier around the island encouraging marine life. Sea turtles lay their eggs in the sand on the beach. Seals mate and raise their young off the Maui shores.
People enjoy scuba diving , surfing and windsurfing in the warm waters.
Last Tuesday, the historic town of Lahaina, the old capital of the kingdom of Hawaii was reduced to ashes. When we visited there were buildings dating back to the late nineteenth century. In the main square of town was a large banyan tree, believed to be the oldest it the country. Under it’s trunks and limbs, people have gathered to visit and trade for many years. The tree is found outside the old government building that housed the customs and courts of Old Hawaii. Today it houses the visitors center, and Hawaiian art for sale .After last Wednesday, much of this area was reduced to ashes. The old banyan tree was scorched but still standing.
As of this past weekend, the fires are burning in the volcanic mountain range on the east side of the island. The national observatory located there , is not out of the threat of the fires.
Many native people wonder if the Goddess of fire and destruction, Pele, is asserting her power. Or are we seeing the result of global warming? Only time will tell if Maui can recover.
The local wildlife such as goats, pigs and deer will starve without vegetation for food. Crops of sugar cane, taro , vegetables, onion and peanuts were grown. In recent these and fields have reverted back to wild grasses. Unlike the prairie grasses of the west, these tropical grasses can grow 6 feet tall. They produce much fuel to burn. Runoff will move sediment into the reef area surrounding the island. Cloudy waters and increased waters temperatures will kill coral needed for a healthy eco system. It may be many years before Maui and Other Hawaiian islands recover.
Tourism will diminish as Paradise is lost for many years.

Caolaspot@aol.com

copyright 8-14-23

Last week, a hurricane passed south of the Hawaiian Island chain. Lightening strikes kindled fires in the dry foliage. Fueled by 60 mph winds, fires burned on all the Islands. The worst damage was seen on the island of Maui.
We visited Maui in the winter of 2003. The island was known for it’s many pristine beaches and clear waters. A reef forms a protective coral barrier around the island encouraging marine life. Sea turtles lay their eggs in the sand on the beach. Seals mate and raise their young off the Maui shores.
People enjoy scuba diving , surfing and windsurfing in the warm waters.
Last Tuesday, the historic town of Lahaina, the old capital of the kingdom of Hawaii was reduced to ashes. When we visited there were buildings dating back to the late nineteenth century. In the main square of town was a large banyan tree, believed to be the oldest it the country. Under it’s trunks and limbs, people have gathered to visit and trade for many years. The tree is found outside the old government building that housed the customs and courts of Old Hawaii. Today it houses the visitors center, and Hawaiian art for sale .After last Wednesday, much of this area was reduced to ashes. The old banyan tree was scorched but still standing.
As of this past weekend, the fires are burning in the volcanic mountain range on the east side of the island. The national observatory located there , is not out of the threat of the fires.
Many native people wonder if the Goddess of fire and destruction, Pele, is asserting her power. Or are we seeing the result of global warming? Only time will tell if Maui can recover.
The local wildlife such as goats, pigs and deer will starve without vegetation for food. Crops of sugar cane, taro , vegetables, onion and peanuts were grown. In recent these and fields have reverted back to wild grasses. Unlike the prairie grasses of the west, these tropical grasses can grow 6 feet tall. They produce much fuel to burn. Runoff will move sediment into the reef area surrounding the island. Cloudy waters and increased waters temperatures will kill coral needed for a healthy eco system. It may be many years before Maui and Other Hawaiian islands recover.
Tourism will diminish as Paradise is lost for many years.

Caolaspot@aol.com

copyright 8-14-23

John and I have always been bike riders. I have ridden 10 speed bikes since my college days. After my daughter was born, my vision started to diminish. At first, I would ride following closely behind my husband’s lead. I couldn’t enjoy riding while I paid close attention to following another bike.
When we moved from the country to a small town with a bike path close by, I had my chance to bike to the store. I didn’t trust my ability to steer my own bike.
We talked about getting a tandem bike. John wanted to see if this was a passing fancy or a lasting commitment. He bought two different bikes. With a welder, he put welded two bike together to create a tandem. It worked but it had some give in the joining bar attaching the two parts. The front was red while the rear piece was green. It was quite a sight!
We rode the bike until August. John decided that we were serious about riding together. We went to the local Schwinn bike shop. It was heavy and had only ten gears. We rode that bike for several years, even attaching a come along to the rear axle to accommodate our seven year old daughter to learn to balance with us. On one long hill, the rear wheel gave out. The shop couldn’t fix it until the replacement parts came in, in about six weeks. This was in the middle of biking season. What to do?
Another bike store was having a sale on their end of season inventory, including some tandems. We drove there, and tried a Burly tandem and brought it home. The Burly was a sky blue fifteen speed with three clusters of gears to shift to. With the hills in our area, we used all the shift positions. John had to work to shift smoothly from the large to the smaller gear cluster.
I had no shift or brake controls. I was free to enjoy the ride.
At first, John told me of every bump so I would lift up off the seat. It is too dangerous for us to pedal standing up. We gradually learned to become a team, anticipating changes in the terrain. In twelve years, the tandem traveled over 20,000 miles. We wore the bike out.
As our riding distance increased, the counties around us added more paved bike trails. Throwing the bike in the rear of the truck, we rode many of the Rails to trails in West and Mid Michigan.
Biking was not without occasional mishaps. The design of the tandem does not allow for quick turns. Too quick of a turn will cause the bike to slide sideways, tumbling the riders. We average at least one fall each year.
One fall three years ago tumbled us into the main street of our town’s main road.
We retired the Burley and looked for another bike. We found a grey Trek with fifteen speeds and a lower cluster to climb the larger hills and a step over bar on the stoker’s position. These accommodations have allowed us to continue to ride as we get older.
The years have passed when we would bike two to three thousand miles in a season. But we continue to enjoy the shorter rides and the time together .We set no goals for mileage for the season. We ride as if each ride could be our last. Someday it will be.

Racing a storm

“Honey, I think that thunder clap sounds close.”
Pedal!”
“Did you see that lightening strike?”
“Pedal”
“I don’t think we are going to make it back before the storm arrives.”
“PEDAL!!!”

carolaspot@aol.com August 7, 2023

For over 12 years, most of my siblings have gathered at my brother Brian’s cottage on the shore of Lake Michigan. There we tease, tell stories and remember the past.
The first years included the head Bull, Dad Bruce. That year , all the siblings were present.
My husband and I have not been to the weekend for several years due to medical issues. I wonder how we will find each other as we age.
We will bring the tandem and see if we can bike the trails by the Mackinac Bridge. Maybe a boat to the Island or the drive to Picture Rocks. Brian will plan the activities. Time to walk the beach and have fires in the evening.
This year, Three of us will gather. Mike and Dad are gone. Kathy, Craig and Karen will not attend. We will still tell stories but there will be a bit of sadness for those missing.
I will be grateful to be with my brothers and sister in laws. Talking, laughing and sharing meals and time. We draw strength from each other. Family bonds grow stronger with each passing year.
So Brian will bring out the canoe and the pedal boat. We will walk to the little store for ice cream. Maybe a dinner at the Polish restaurant. We will repeat mom and dad’s favorite quotes. Renewed, we will give enough hugs to last another year.

Siblings
Sometimes we don’t agree.
Innocent comments can be taken wrong.
But no one goes to bed angry.
Life as a family goes on.
In so many ways we are different.
Nothing to work through.
Glad to be with other again.

Carol is currently enjoying siblings weekend up
north .

carolaspot@aol.com July 31, 2023

This past week would have been my brother Mike’s 75th birthday.He was the middle of three older brothers. He was six years older. Old enough to enjoy a little sister and young enough to have shared time together.
In grade school, there was a time when Mike and Bob were on the basketball team. Craig was the water boy and I was the mascot for the cheer leader squad. Dad was the coach. When we played croquet, badminton or lawn darts, I was paired with Mike. He being a larger child was a natural protector.
We shared the hobby of photography. He taught me to develop my own black and white film and print test sheets of the photos. With this skill, I became one of the photographers for the yearbook.
For a time, Mike worked as a mechanic at the local bike shop. He and my younger brother, Brian, would plan overnight bike excursions. They used a two man pup tent that was easily packed into a bike’s saddlebag. They had two large yellow side bags on the rear , A smaller bag on the handle bars and the smallest bag attached to under the seat for tools.
On one of these trips, Mike and Brian were coming down a long, steep hill. Mike started to brake early but Brian did not. Finally braking, Brian went head over heels over the handlebars and landed down a ravine. Later that night, Brian had poison ivy on his arms and back. The sleeping bag spread the juice from the ivy until his body was covered with blisters.
Mike trained to try out for the MSU football team. All summer, he swam, lifted weights and ran to be in shape for the tryouts. Mike made the freshman squad. Before the season began, the freshmen were pitted against the older players in a green and white matchup. A very large tackle named Bubba Smith tackled Mike and knocked him unconscious. Ending up in the infirmary, Bubba visited and apologized.
“You have to grow a little bigger and stronger to play with us.”
Mike decided that he was not cut out to be a Spartan player.
After college, Mike taught at Walled lake Western high school. But the draft changed that,. His number was low . He thought about going to Canada but stayed and signed up for chaplain’s training. Of the 32 recruits in his training class. 30 were stationed in parts of Vietnam , two were sent to Germany. Mike was one of the chaplains sent to Germany. Day after day, he and a priest had to unzip body bags and preform the last rites by making the sign of the cross on eyes, ears, month and arms and legs. Often, the decomposing bodies were unrecognizable Often they were identified by their dog tags. This changed Mike. where once a outgoing man who loved to laugh was, now a young man was quiet and thoughtful before speaking.
After coming home, he went back to pursue his Master’s at Central Michigan University. There he met and later married his future wife, Kathy. Together, they raised four children, three boys and one girl.
Moving to change jobs and homes for his expanding family, visits were less frequent.
Mike loved gathering our extended family together. For many he and Kathy hosted Thanksgiving dinner. The annual basketball game with cousins and uncles pitted against each other. One year, Ruth joined in the game, She was allowed to make a basket without being blocked. After the game, we visited until dinner was ready. The large table was augmented by the kids table. One year, Megan and her fiancee John had to sit at the kids table. They were both in their late twenties.
Mike died several years after a long bout with cancer. He was a fighter all his life. I still think of his love for his family and his kindness for his baby sister.

carolaspot@aol.com
7-25-23

This spring, I have seen increased activity around the feeder. In the early morning, a large male fox squirrel scampers up the steps to beg for fresh seeds. Standing at the sliding doors, he stares into the kitchen with a sideward glance.
Later he will be chasing other fox squirrels across the yard and up the nearby trees.
Last week, I noticed a new visiter to the porch. A mother squirrel tentatively climbed up to the table, looking for food. I saw her nipples on her chest were swollen with milk. Feeling sorry for her, I threw out several peanuts. Gathering them in her cheeks, she raced back to her brood.
I kept a lookout for the smaller female. One morning there was a juvenile with her. She stood back allowing the baby to find and eat the seed.
Over the next week, One or two small squirrels visited with their mother to gather seeds. This week, there was a disturbance in the squirrel colony.
Two black squirrels from across the street, crossed the road to scout for food. The fox male squirrels produced a series of barks and clicking sounds. Much noise was heard in the trees.
I would like to report that all found room and food. The fox squirrels were chased further into the woods. Now black squirrels dominate.
Like people, squirrels would fight rather than co-exist with different neighbors. Lets hope we are smarter than the squirrels and work to get along.

photo description
An adult squirrel sits on a box on a porch. She looks with side vision into the house, waiting for her treat of seeds. The small woods is pictured in the background.

Squirrel

Scampering up , down the tree for seeds.
Quickly she gathers to savor the feed.
Used husks drop aside.
In piles spread wide.
Ready for another day.
Requiring work and play.
Eagerly, waiting for food cast.
Looking, ,watching remembers times past.
A child smiles, tossing a fistful of nuts.
Happily observes the squirrel fuss.

carolaspot July 17, 2023

Ice Cream with Dad, Sweet Memories, July 10,2023 488 words
My younger brother Brian, reminded us in his weekly updates from Northville about our Dad passing five years ago. My parents would have celebrated their eighty first wedding anniversary this week. They taught their children to share with others. I would like to tell some stories about summer in my hometown.
We all had bamboo fishing poles, I had a round red and white bobber to float on the water. My brothers had a small cork bobber with a stick protruding from the top and bottom. This helped the bobber to remain upright. The line below the bobber had several small weights to help the line to sink. A hook with a barb on the end helped prevent the fish from escaping.
We would fish the nearby creek or the pond at the fish hatchery. But the easiest fishing was at Grayson’s home on Seven Mile. Mr. Grayson had a small pond dug on his property. It’s water supply was a natural spring, of which Northville had many. The excess was used to water the garden.
The fish were feed each day. by theMr. Grayson. They were trained to follow a person on the shore in anticipation of food. The local fish hatchery supplied bluegills and bass. I would watch for the bobber to be pulled below the surface, I would jerk the pole upward. Occasionally, the fish would be pulled right out of the water.
We usually removed the hook and let the fish go.The Mr. Grayson would cook the fish he caught on an open fire.
Another summer treat was walking to Guernsey’s on Center. Both of my Grandfathers would offer me a dime to buy a large scoop cone. On the side of the counter was a dispenser of red shelled pistachios. The dye on the shell would stain my lips and tongue.
In the town you could get a cone at Cloverdale. The cones were that same as Guernsey’s but the cost was higher for their sugar cones.
My dad continued the tradition of allowing his children to go as a family to purchase a cone on Sunday evenings. I ordered coffee flavor, dad favored butter pecan. We would sit outside the store savoring the treats. My mother never ordered a cone. She was busy taking each cone from a child to twirl the cone giving it a quick lick to clean the drips of ice cream from the cone.
So on this hot, sultry afternoon, I lift my cone in memory of past summer evenings with my family.

Cone Race

A large scoop of ice cream perches on the cone.
Summer heat causes drips in colors.
Mom licks cones to keep then from dripping.
Tongues work the sides, pushing the ice cream lower in the cone.
I bite the end of my cone to suck the cream out the bottom.

carolaspot@aol.com July, 10, 2023

With the advent of warm, sunny weather, more people are biking. Many drivers don’t pay attention to bikes and pedestrians at marked crossings. My husband and I try to make ourselves visible while riding the tandem bike. We both sport bright matching yellow shirts, colorful helmets and have reflectors on the bike pedals. Sometimes all of these precautions aren’t enough.
Last week, we were stopped at a busy crossing. The light turned green for us so we started to cross. An older woman, without stopping, tried to make a right turn in front of our moving bike. Her car was scraped by the bike rack. Then she drove off.
John was livid. He was yelling at the motorists, “Call 911!”
We crossed the road to find the woman driver did return to the accident. She tried to explain that she had to go to the next road to note her location.
“Didn’t you hear the impact?” “I have your license number.”
John was sure that she was going to continue on her way.
Continuing to the store, two other drivers were aware of the tandem to backed up from crosswalks. Another driver, stopped in the street to allow us to cross holding up traffic.
Though we don’t expect such special treatment, we do hope that people sharing the road will display simple courtesy. A bike has the same right to be on the road. We are not alone with biking problems.
Our deacon related another biking story with a dog walker. He had a incident with a dog on a retractable leash. Coming downhill, he noted the walker on the other side of the path but didn’t see the leash and the dog on his side. squeezing both brakes at the last minute, impact was avoided but he went down with the bike, breaking his leg.
This year, on the deacon’s first ride after healing, he was riding up to two women with an unleash large dog.
Stopping, he inquired,”Can I tell you a story?”
“O yes, The dog owner replied”.
“Last year I was in an accident with a large dog”. This is my first ride after healing from my injuries. “I am scared of large dogs …like your’s.”
The woman, leashed her dog. Our deacon waved as he rode away.
Fear sometimes prevents us from reacting with kindness. Even humor can play a teaching role.
We were again at a crossing with a cross light. Two police cars approached the intersection and turned right in front of us, without lights or sirens. A third police car did slow before turning.
This my husband dryly remarked,”Must be late for a doughnut break.”
As the roads become busier, we all must be aware of people in the crosswalks.
On our local bike paths, there is a reminder that impacts between cars and bikes are hazardous. A father and his seven year old son were biking on a bike path. The father was a little ahead of his son. As they crossed the road with the light, a car turned on the red light and struck the boy. He later died. The memorial of toys, flowers and photos is a constant reminder that we must be aware of our surroundings and watch out for the young, inexperienced riders. Keep our roads safe for all.

Crossing

At a road, I spied a simple cross.
It stands beside a small white painted bike.
In memory of a rider who lost his life.
Stopping, I say a quick prayer.
Hoping to keep the little ones … safe.

carolaspot@aol.com July 10, 2023