A Visit to the Georgia Aquarium

When I was in my early teens, I had a book on aquarium fish full of pictures and information that gave me hours of pleasure. I dreamed of one day owning an amazing aquarium. For starters, I planned to have a basement, and one entire wall was going to be an aquarium sectioned off into various environments. Plants and fish and rocks and assorted scenery decorated my mind (still does, as a matter of fact).

Actually we've owned two or three aquariums over the years, nothing approaching even in miniature the fantastic dreams I nursed in my youth. After a while the aquariums became the visual equivalent of white noise at best -- or worse, a tedious chore. Too many things in real life competed for money, time and energy, and it seemed like the only fish we had any success with were plain-colored danios.

On Friday my dreams took flight again. We visited the Georgia Aquarium in Atlanta, the world's largest aquarium. It turned out to be an expensive day after tickets, gas for two vehicles, and food, but it was worth it. We all had a ball!

I want to share some of the pictures of our day at the Georgia Aquarium, and if you're ever in the area -- I highly recommend a visit there.

There are spectacular views throughout the aquarium.

A hammerhead swims among assorted fish and rays.

Can you believe it! A petting zoo at the aquarium! It was fun, even after one of the bonnet sharks swam over my hand and tried to take a nibble (we didn't realize it was almost feeding time).

The anemones were beautiful -- and you can touch them too!

This beluga whale was a big, graceful showoff. It was my daughter's favorite.

This South African penguin enjoyed watching us as we watched back from a glass enclosure inside its habitat.

I can't remember the species of fish, but this pretty specimen is indicative of the beauty housed in this aquarium.

I couldn't leave without giving a hug to Deepo, the Georgia Aquarium mascot. Boy, I love fish!

A Flower for Mama: A Lesson That Finally Bloomed

The house in which I grew up was small and Spartan. My mama seems in my mind to be perpetually standing at the sink washing dishes and looking out the window at a little patch of the world she loved and from which she never strayed far or for long. There was no running hot water in the kitchen, and Mama always kept a kettle on the stove to heat water for washing dishes. The immediate view out the kitchen window was the crepe myrtle just across the driveway, surrounded by one of the poorest scraps of soil on the property, so when one of the tulips Mama had planted there actually came up and bloomed, it gave her a simple yet profound private joy of which her three year old son (that would be me) was utterly unaware.

Playing in the yard early one afternoon, I noticed the flower. Knowing how Mama seemed to enjoy flowers, I thought she would love to have this one in the house, so…I picked it. Mama must have been at her post staring out the window, because she met me at the door as I rushed in to present the gift. I couldn’t wait to see how happy Mama would be, so I was completely unprepared when she began scolding me for picking her flower. When I started sobbing hysterically, Mama was immediately repentant and took me in her arms trying to console me and apologizing for scolding me, because she realized I was only trying to make her happy. But the episode left a shadow on my early childhood that led to an event which my daddy enjoyed telling with a chuckle for years.

I was riding in the car with Daddy down a country road. In those days seatbelts and child restraints were unknown, and I always traveled standing in the center of the front bench seat with my arms spread across the back of the seat for balance. We came to a field that seemed literally to explode in color with wildflowers. Daddy pulled the car over and started to get out. He said, “Let’s get your mama a bunch of flowers.” With a serious look, I shook my head and said, “No, Daddy. Mama don’t like flowers.”

He couldn’t coax me out of the car, so he climbed back in and we went home. He told Mama about the flowers and what I’d said, and she explained about the tulip. It was something Mama always regretted. I remember once when we were sitting around the table at Mama’s house sharing this story with my children, Mama laughed, but she came over and kissed me lightly on the back of the neck, hugged me and said, “He just wanted to give his mama a flower, and I should’ve just taken it.”

In my teens, I fell in love with growing things – flowers and plants of every kind. I started a compost pile and took cuttings, seeds, and bulbs from all my elderly aunts whose houses lined the street across the field from our house. Eventually I worked some good topsoil and compost into that sorry patch of earth across from Mama’s kitchen window and planted cannas which had been struggling to grow in another part of the yard. They performed magnificently, reaching seven feet in height and blooming profusely. I told mama I had finally made up for picking her tulip. She just laughed and hugged me and said she loved looking out that window more than ever. I was wrong, Daddy – Mama really did like flowers.

Happy Memorial Day!

In The Declaration of Independence, we find these words: "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness."

We Americans are a privileged people. Although we are continuously reminded these days of the proliferation of anti-American sentiment by various people around the world (and even some in this country), we are heirs to a heritage of freedom, hope, and optimism that much of the world can only dream of. With tremendous privilege comes tremendous responsibility. Today we remember and honor those who have borne that responsibility with their lives.

Consequently, we are reminded of the service of every man and woman who takes the oath of military service. In November of 1975, with my heart pounding and goosebumps rushing to cover my body, I raised my right hand and repeated these words as I enlisted in the United States Marine Corps:

I, James Oscar Bohannon, do solemnly swear that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; and that I will obey the orders of the President of the United States and the orders of the officers appointed over me, according to regulations and the Uniform Code of Military Justice. So help me God.

Today I salute all my brothers and sisters in arms who’ve shared that oath (or one very similar) and who bear those arms not for malicious purposes, but who bear them to stand guard over my freedom and yours, and to keep safe the country that, despite its many flaws and shortcomings, stands as the greatest beacon of hope to the world. To those who’ve paid the ultimate price for freedom and honor, and for those who’ve been willing to face the possibility of paying that price, may God bless you always – and, indeed, may God bless America!

SEMPER FI!!!

Rip Van Winkle, the Prodigal Son, and the Author of this Blog...

Hmm...now just what do Rip Van Winkle, the Prodigal Son, and the author of this blog have in common? Tick, tock, tick, tock, buzzzzzz...time's up. They all disappeared and didn't show up where they belonged for quite a while. Wow! Can you believe it's been over three months since I last posted anything at my blog! That just will not do, and I can't let that happen again.

So much has happened since the last time I spoke to you. My brother went into the hospital again with congestive heart failure and almost died again (but he's back home, on regular dialysis, and better be watching his diet). A good friend of mine got very sick, and my wife and I took her to the emergency room with a fever of 104 degrees, and we were waited on by a medical team that obviously either trained with the Three Stooges or got their credentials from Clown College. But...she survived and recovered after lots of tender, loving care. I celebrated my 51st birthday (on March 28th), but I haven't felt younger in years (probably in great part because I'm still working out regularly...yay!). Cris and I celebrated our 25th wedding anniversary, but we didn't get to go to the bed and breakfast in the mountains like we'd planned, because the transmission went out in the car and sucked nearly $2000.00 out of savings, and this just after paying nearly $400.00 for repairs on the van. This left roughly enough in our bank account for us to stay in bed here and have a bowl of cereal for breakfast (not the bed & breakfast we'd envisioned for a milestone...but we're gonna make up for it as soon as school's out!).

I have lots of notes about subjects I want to write about, like how my writing has not been going well at all. Heck, it hasn't even been going badly. It just hasn't been going...but that's changing. I'm also working on sculpting using a new technique -- more on that later (when something is finished and I can show you). There is a presidential campaign going on -- in case you haven't noticed -- and I have some thoughts. Boy, do I have some thoughts. Oh...my one year old grandson lost his Medicaid, and we've been unable to get it back, and we can't apply for the children's health insurance, because he qualifies for Medicaid (go figure!). Soooo...my toddler grandson is uninsured. Meanwhile, my oldest son lost his job (painting houses) weeks ago and has run out of unemployment (and has a second child on the way). That means I have two grown children and their families with no health insurance and inadequate incomes. Don't you just love the American Dream!

Ahhh...yes, there is so much to talk about, but for now, I just wanted you to know I'm still around. So, kill the fatted calf, bring the best garments and the family ring, and stir up the merriment -- the Prodigal has returned!

Happy Birthday David Jeremiah Garcia!!!

My first grandson is one year old today! It's hard to believe. The joy he has brought into our lives is indescribable, and I can't imagine a world without him. We'll have a party on February 9th (yeah...I know, but we tend to draw birthdays out for weeks around here).

FELIZ PRIMERO CUMPLEAÑOS!!! Mi Davidito, ¡te amo mucho!

~ Tu Papa

The New Year...So Far

We're heading for the two week mark of the new year, the point where I understand many people start falling by the wayside on those ambitious resolutions. That's just one reason why I never make any. I have resolved not to resolve -- and that's the only one I keep. However, I do have some serious plans and resolute intentions for this year, and I am sticking with them. I actually began before the new year, but I plan to keep the momentum going throughout this year -- and beyond.

Getting in Shape

It's about time to check the classifieds -- I want a treadmill. This may be the time when all those good intentions are wearing thin, and those people who splurged on fancy exercise equipment have decided to cut their loses. Don't know where I'm going to put it, but after taking a run on a chilly afternoon it's taken days to shake the cough (actually, I still haven't shaken it). I'd love to be able to run in my office with some good, inspiring music blasting from my Bose speakers. Fortunately, we do have a new exercise bike -- the kind with the pedals out front -- that I got for my wife, who recently had knee surgery. We are putting it to good use.

I'd bought a new weight bench a few months back, and immediately hurt my back and was in such pain I couldn't even assemble it. Then my oldest son came over and put it together -- but we had no weights. We finally went to Academy Sports & Outdoors and got a set of steel free weights, and I was like a child at Christmas (even though we got them a few weeks before Christmas). It still took a couple of weeks to get going, but thanks to my youngest son -- who has been using them -- I worked out one afternoon, and I've been doing it ever since.

I've lost about 15 pounds, dropped two pants sizes, and my musculature is re-appearing with surprising definition. And I'm feeling good (except for the tendinitis in my left arm). I'm not eating nearly as much, and I don't miss it. A couple of weekends ago, we had to go shopping. I needed new clothes! From size 40 to size 38, and I'm on the way to 36! Pardon me if I sound a little boastful, but I feel I deserve it. This has taken weeks of hard work and determination -- and I am a little proud.

Writing

I've been writing for years, but I've never had the focus to stick with a project longer than a modest poem -- not counting journal entries and the occasional blog. Now, however, I am actively working on my first novel. I've enlisted a bakers dozen of some of the most intelligent and wonderful people I know to be readers for my book, and I plan to be ready to shop for an agent by April. Now I feel like I can really call myself a writer.

In case any of you were wondering why my blog hasn't been updated in nearly a month -- now you know. But...I hope to do better with posting. I started this blog as an outlet to share my writing and ideas, and I don't plan to abandon it.

Best Wishes to My Blog Readers

To all of you who've been faithful readers, and to those who stop by from time to time -- and to those of you who may have just now discovered my little home on the Internet -- I wish a very blessed, peaceful, and successful 2008.

Is Anything Made in America Anymore?

This is a wonderful time -- looking forward to a first Christmas with my two grandsons and great-nephew. There is nothing I can imagine that could be better for Christmas than the gift of these precious little boys.

Yet...this is one of the most frustrating holiday seasons ever. With three little boys to shop for, thoughts go to Fisher-Price, Mattel, and all those other toymakers who made our holidays past so memorable. But -- all these names mean to me this Christmas is..."Made in China", lead paint, and toxic! I am furious at these corporations for betraying me, my grandchildren, and my country!

I've looked online for "Made in America" -- and I've found some things. So what's the problem? First, there is selection. There's not a whole lot that looks like a modern child might be thrilled to see under the tree. Maybe fifty years ago -- but not today. The second, and maybe the most significant -- price! Good gracious -- $50.00 for a set of 28 wooden blocks? Bless them for using "non-toxic ink", but do they really need to gouge me this badly!

All I want for Christmas is a non-toxic, reasonably priced toy, or two! What happened to Sam Walton's philosophy of American made? Surely the traditions of stocking stores and conducting transactions that made a simple Arkansas businessman the world's richest man, while selling quality, safe, American-made goods was good enough. Are his offspring so greedy that they would sell the nation's soul for a little more profit? And, mind you, this is not just a mere matter of what Walmart sells -- as Walmart goes, so goes the rest of the retail industry. The bottom line is dependent on competition, and competition has already been devastated by Walmart. Now that they've traded our national soul for a bowl of pottage, it's unlikely that any other merchants will do very much to try to bring us redemption.