Yeah, that's what I am. A little past forty, but a long way from over the hill.
Sounds like a country song, doesn't it?
Am I that predictable? Good.
Ronnie McDowell. Not a chart-buster by any means, but a cute little ditty from 1990.
I like to think I'm a long way from over the hill.
However, my body sometimes disagrees with my mind.
Just last week, I turned 43. "It's just a number," most people tell me.
Not that I was overly concerned about it. I like to think I don't look or act my age.
But with each passing year, it becomes painfully obvious (pardon the pun) that what I took for granted all these decades is the groundwork for a cruel reminder of my advancing years.
Case in point...though people are waiting until their later years to have children, take it from me...don't wait as long as me. Keeping up with a very active three-year-old when you're in your forties is hard.
Someone once said "Growing old ain't for sissies!"
The irony in that statement just kills me.
The good thing is, I still have all of my own hair, and my own teeth, sans a few that were 'enhanced' from root canal work, and other than bloodwork for my annual physical, I'm not on any 'maintenance' plan insofar as medication and whatnot.
My class reunion committee met several times since last fall until our reunion earlier this month. One of the things we discussed was how late to hold the reunion.
Not one of us suggested going past midnight.
Keep in mind, we're all married working parents with children. But we like to think we're still hip.
We also try to temper that with reality.
One of our committee members said it best when we settled on 11pm as an appropriate time to end it.
"We're 43...what are we going to do?"
That generated a few chuckles, but she was right. What are these 40-somethings going to do?
Go on a pub crawl? Go down to the Strip District and do some clubbing?
Too old for the nightclubs, too young for the bridge club. That's us.
My wife and I (though she's not yet 40) have a hard time staying up past 10 these days.
Despite that, we still do our hardest work before breakfast.
Getting out of bed.
Hard work indeed, but that's what separates us from the young 'uns.
The fact that we still do it.
NEXT WEEK: Home Front
Sunday, August 26, 2012
Sunday, August 19, 2012
Class Dismissed
My most recent column dealt with my 25th high school class reunion.
The planning, the logistics, the event itself, and the day after.
Now the aftermath.
Since we began the planning for this event last fall, the five of us on the planning committee, along with others who helped us out, had worked tirelessly to try and put together the best reunion we could, to ensure that our classmates felt they got their money's worth on Sunday, August 4th.
Now that it's all over, we've been a bit reluctant to break up the party.
Once a month, we managed to set aside a couple hours from our busy lives to discuss planning, which classmates we still had yet to round up, and how we were going to make this year's reunion better than those of years past.
Not an easy task by any means.
But we got through it.
And we set aside time just this past week to have dinner as a group, with a couple of us bringing our spouses along...so they could see that the time we were spending was indeed productive and not just a means of escape where we could drink our wine.
OK, it MIGHT have been that too.
But to a lesser extent. Trust me on this one.
We discussed the outcome of the reunion, through our own observations. Which classmates really enjoyed being there, which ones wanted to take part, but for whatever reason, didn't, and even a couple who paid for tickets but didn't make the trip in the end.
And what we did with the leftover desserts.
Here's a hint...some made it into my lunch box the following morning.
It was all part of what seemed at times to be an insurmountable task, but nonetheless, one we managed to overcome.
And we're going to be getting back together again probably in the next month or so.
Hopefully all the checks will have cleared the bank and we can talk about the future.
As long as we don't talk about goodbye.
The final verse of our school's alma mater says it all:
"As the graduating class, we promise to uphold all the standards and ideals that we will never let grow old. Time has come for us to leave now. Loving sadness fills our hearts. Slowly now we turn away, sad but proudly we depart."
Class dismissed.
NEXT WEEK: Lower Forty
Sunday, August 12, 2012
Class Act
It's hard to believe it's been more than two and a half decades. I cringe just thinking about it.
But hey, it's reality.
Last fall, I answered a mass email by the planning committee for my 20th high school reunion. The members were soliciting classmates to join the committee for the 25th reunion we would hopefully have.
Knowing that there would be planning meetings for this, and addressing the challenges of handling a then two-year-old child alone, I asked my wife if she would object to my joining the committee, if they would have me. She told me it was all good.
We discussed feedback from classmates about the last reunion, the costs of putting it on in 2007 compared to today's costs (which we would later learn to be quite a huge gap), what was a reasonable cost for putting on another reunion, and what ideas we could bring to the table to keep costs under control, while not appearing 'cheap' to attendees.
For those of you who have never done this before, it might not sound challenging. But for the five of us, all business-oriented people, it seemed apropos that we held most of our planning meetings in serving-alcohol establishments. The logistics of it all would drive anyone to drink.
I probably spent more on wine than I would have liked at these meetings.
I was a bit concerned, because the date we had chosen was competing for another event, and the turnout didn't seem very high. I had read an MSN article not long ago that social networking sites like Facebook and MySpace were supplanting the high school reunions of the past, with many graduating classes choosing to forego the typical in-person brick-and-mortar reunions.
Who can blame them? They're cheaper, and in an uncertain economy, that ain't bad.
Nonetheless, we pressed on. This was a silver anniversary reunion for us. Our class held the distinction of being the twenty-fifth that graduated after the district's official formation in 1962. This year marks the fiftieth year of the district's existence.
We were determined that we were going to give something back to our classmates other than just a nice meal and an opportunity to get out of the house with our spouses.
We had discussed travel mugs, but replaced it with zippered pouch-style stadium blankets instead. Most coffee cups and travel mugs usually clutter cupboard space, and most often get broken after awhile.
The blankets fold easily, are out of the way if not being used, and in my opinion much more useful.
And one of our members managed to get them 'at-cost' from the manufacturer.
Another member kept track of our spending, right down to the last penny, and wrote the checks. Two others did the majority of tracking down classmates and went through responses like 'lose my address', 'not interested now or ever', or were downright rude.
The biggest push came in the last month.
Being in charge of entertainment, I put together a playlist for background music, as well as a slide show of pictures from the past. With ten classmates who have died since graduation, three were especially difficult to find since they were pictured very little throughout our tenure in high school. One of those three was nearly impossible. I had to settle for a fishing photo taken of him not long before his death in a boating accident in North Carolina. He and I weren't friends, but friend or not, I was determined to see that he was remembered properly.
I had my work finished the day of the reunion. Not because I was slacking, but I went through two rough-draft presentations before the final cut.
Another member scoured every business she could possibly think of that was willing to help for gift cards and certificates as parting gifts for each classmate. So that everyone would leave with a gift that said 'thank you for attending our reunion.'
We had about 60 people attend. Not a huge number, but it was still a great turnout.
I say that because there was room to move around and mingle with everyone. There were plenty of opportunities to take pictures, everyone got to talk to one another, even if only for a moment, and nobody got drunk or disorderly.
And we had a few that traveled quite a distance to be there. The reunion would not have been the same without them. Especially one now living within the Chicagoland area, a married mother of three, who brought her best friend from western Indiana to not just this reunion, but our 20 year as well.
Her 'plus one' is now facebook friends with half the class.
We've informally adopted her, despite her being two years younger.
I'm going to enjoy these next five years of quiet.
But I'll have plenty to keep me busy in the interim, I'm sure.
NEXT WEEK: Class Dismissed
But hey, it's reality.
Last fall, I answered a mass email by the planning committee for my 20th high school reunion. The members were soliciting classmates to join the committee for the 25th reunion we would hopefully have.
Knowing that there would be planning meetings for this, and addressing the challenges of handling a then two-year-old child alone, I asked my wife if she would object to my joining the committee, if they would have me. She told me it was all good.
We discussed feedback from classmates about the last reunion, the costs of putting it on in 2007 compared to today's costs (which we would later learn to be quite a huge gap), what was a reasonable cost for putting on another reunion, and what ideas we could bring to the table to keep costs under control, while not appearing 'cheap' to attendees.
For those of you who have never done this before, it might not sound challenging. But for the five of us, all business-oriented people, it seemed apropos that we held most of our planning meetings in serving-alcohol establishments. The logistics of it all would drive anyone to drink.
I probably spent more on wine than I would have liked at these meetings.
I was a bit concerned, because the date we had chosen was competing for another event, and the turnout didn't seem very high. I had read an MSN article not long ago that social networking sites like Facebook and MySpace were supplanting the high school reunions of the past, with many graduating classes choosing to forego the typical in-person brick-and-mortar reunions.
Who can blame them? They're cheaper, and in an uncertain economy, that ain't bad.
Nonetheless, we pressed on. This was a silver anniversary reunion for us. Our class held the distinction of being the twenty-fifth that graduated after the district's official formation in 1962. This year marks the fiftieth year of the district's existence.
We were determined that we were going to give something back to our classmates other than just a nice meal and an opportunity to get out of the house with our spouses.
We had discussed travel mugs, but replaced it with zippered pouch-style stadium blankets instead. Most coffee cups and travel mugs usually clutter cupboard space, and most often get broken after awhile.
The blankets fold easily, are out of the way if not being used, and in my opinion much more useful.
And one of our members managed to get them 'at-cost' from the manufacturer.
Another member kept track of our spending, right down to the last penny, and wrote the checks. Two others did the majority of tracking down classmates and went through responses like 'lose my address', 'not interested now or ever', or were downright rude.
The biggest push came in the last month.
Being in charge of entertainment, I put together a playlist for background music, as well as a slide show of pictures from the past. With ten classmates who have died since graduation, three were especially difficult to find since they were pictured very little throughout our tenure in high school. One of those three was nearly impossible. I had to settle for a fishing photo taken of him not long before his death in a boating accident in North Carolina. He and I weren't friends, but friend or not, I was determined to see that he was remembered properly.
I had my work finished the day of the reunion. Not because I was slacking, but I went through two rough-draft presentations before the final cut.
Another member scoured every business she could possibly think of that was willing to help for gift cards and certificates as parting gifts for each classmate. So that everyone would leave with a gift that said 'thank you for attending our reunion.'
We had about 60 people attend. Not a huge number, but it was still a great turnout.
I say that because there was room to move around and mingle with everyone. There were plenty of opportunities to take pictures, everyone got to talk to one another, even if only for a moment, and nobody got drunk or disorderly.
And we had a few that traveled quite a distance to be there. The reunion would not have been the same without them. Especially one now living within the Chicagoland area, a married mother of three, who brought her best friend from western Indiana to not just this reunion, but our 20 year as well.
Her 'plus one' is now facebook friends with half the class.
We've informally adopted her, despite her being two years younger.
I'm going to enjoy these next five years of quiet.
But I'll have plenty to keep me busy in the interim, I'm sure.
NEXT WEEK: Class Dismissed
Sunday, August 5, 2012
"Wood" You Like Some of This?
After weeks of hot and dry weather, that all but turned my grass brown from green, we received more rain than we could have ever hoped for during the last week of July.
As a newscaster for a small-town radio station, I have a police scanner in my office that keeps me informed of what all is happening with emergency fire and rescue crews. Thursday night, July 26th, was particularly busy.
Downed wires. Basement pumpouts. Flooded roadways. Trees and utility poles falling.
Never in a million years could I have been prepared for what awaited me when I heard the text tone on my iPhone.
It was from my wife, telling me that a tree had fallen in the back yard. I didn't think it was that big a deal until I got home.
It looked smaller in the picture she texted me. Much smaller. With the rain still falling, I didn't go out to investigate. Since we had a handyman coming in the following afternoon to fix the ceiling in our half-bath, I didn't make it outside until late Friday afternoon after my wife came home.
She and I, along with our three year old, made it to the back yard by the property line.
The tree was probably sixty feet in height, and had a trunk of about two and a half to three feet in diameter. The base of it, along with the uprooted soil, had to be about ten feet wide.
I looked at the ground. the impact of the tree put several small craters in the back yard.
My mother-in-law urged us to call our insurance company and claim it under our homeowners policy.
The only problem with that was a $500 deductible. Uh...no.
A much cheaper option and an idea had formed in my twisted little mind.
My best friend has a camp outside of Erie. He often has to buy firewood on the way there, usually at $25 for a cord. Not a bad deal, but why not make lemonade of this lemon?
So I called and left him a message on his machine. He immediately called me back.
He said he wouldn't make it out for probably a few days, but he definitely wanted some.
Have at it, I told him. It'll be here for awhile.
My next-door neighbor also stopped over. He knew some people that might be willing to help cut it up if I would let them have the wood.
Uh...yeah!
I began to think that maybe I should have held a tree-cutting party. Bring your own chainsaw and keep what you cut. I wouldn't charge anyone for it. That would be like asking money from people who would be helping me.
And I'm sure the word will spread.
The neighbor on the other side of me rents the house there. The real-estate company that owns the house recently cut down a dying tree that would have tumbled onto my property and left the cut wood there. They let me have some for my firepit activities.
And I was curious as to how long that wood would last. Now I have more wood than I ever would have imagined. Or wanted.
The bright side to all this is, there's less grass to cut for now.
NEXT WEEK: Reunited
As a newscaster for a small-town radio station, I have a police scanner in my office that keeps me informed of what all is happening with emergency fire and rescue crews. Thursday night, July 26th, was particularly busy.
Downed wires. Basement pumpouts. Flooded roadways. Trees and utility poles falling.
Never in a million years could I have been prepared for what awaited me when I heard the text tone on my iPhone.
It was from my wife, telling me that a tree had fallen in the back yard. I didn't think it was that big a deal until I got home.
It looked smaller in the picture she texted me. Much smaller. With the rain still falling, I didn't go out to investigate. Since we had a handyman coming in the following afternoon to fix the ceiling in our half-bath, I didn't make it outside until late Friday afternoon after my wife came home.
She and I, along with our three year old, made it to the back yard by the property line.
The tree was probably sixty feet in height, and had a trunk of about two and a half to three feet in diameter. The base of it, along with the uprooted soil, had to be about ten feet wide.
I looked at the ground. the impact of the tree put several small craters in the back yard.
My mother-in-law urged us to call our insurance company and claim it under our homeowners policy.
The only problem with that was a $500 deductible. Uh...no.
A much cheaper option and an idea had formed in my twisted little mind.
My best friend has a camp outside of Erie. He often has to buy firewood on the way there, usually at $25 for a cord. Not a bad deal, but why not make lemonade of this lemon?
So I called and left him a message on his machine. He immediately called me back.
He said he wouldn't make it out for probably a few days, but he definitely wanted some.
Have at it, I told him. It'll be here for awhile.
My next-door neighbor also stopped over. He knew some people that might be willing to help cut it up if I would let them have the wood.
Uh...yeah!
I began to think that maybe I should have held a tree-cutting party. Bring your own chainsaw and keep what you cut. I wouldn't charge anyone for it. That would be like asking money from people who would be helping me.
And I'm sure the word will spread.
The neighbor on the other side of me rents the house there. The real-estate company that owns the house recently cut down a dying tree that would have tumbled onto my property and left the cut wood there. They let me have some for my firepit activities.
And I was curious as to how long that wood would last. Now I have more wood than I ever would have imagined. Or wanted.
The bright side to all this is, there's less grass to cut for now.
NEXT WEEK: Reunited
Sunday, July 29, 2012
Pay it Forward
As my 25-year high school reunion draws near, I think about my days in high school.
And how far I've come since then.
Last fall, I signed up for the planning committee for this reunion. And thanks to the momentum of social media since my 20-year reunion, planning has been made much easier.
We've found people not on the committee, who are yet willing to help make our reunion even better than before.
One of them I've had lunch with twice over the summer, despite not having been in touch with him for 19 years prior, when he called my request line in the days when I was pulling an overnight on-air shift at a now-defunct hit country formatted radio station in Pittsburgh.
And I've enjoyed both our lunch meetings thoroughly.
Tony is probably one of the most genuine people I know. Groomed with a strong work ethic at an early age, he believed in hard work by his own hand, and that if you wanted something done right, you did it yourself and didn't blame others for your own failure.
He built a business of his own on this very pretext, and is very much a hands-on person.
He had asked me for my advice to help his sons get started in their own business. For some time in my native Detroit, I worked the club circuit as a DJ, playing everything from country to classic rock.
I had also DJ'd my brother-in-law's reunion, and with the cash he advanced me, I purchased a used portable amplified speaker system to fit the bill. I would later learn the secrets to running a complete show automated from a laptop.
Tony had gotten wind of this and asked me what he needed to help his boys get started.
I was surprised by the request, yet pleased. Today I lament how some parents don't teach their kids the importance and value of work, and just give them money arbitrarily, but Tony was giving his two sons the opportunity to get started at an early age and learn to develop this over the years.
Tony and I go back 31 years, when we were in junior high school together and were in most of the same classes. He was the same then as he is now, I would learn.
I agreed to help. We arranged for lunch, and I brought along all the CDs I used for DJ events. He told me of a scrubber-mixer he had bought from Amazon.com and asked if he really needed it. I told him it was a nice thing to have, but it was more of a luxury than a necessity.
He presented me with two bottles of wine afterwards. Unnecessary, but hey, who am I to turn down free wine? Especially good wine?
Then came our second meeting. He warned me that he was running about a half hour late, apologizing profusely the whole way into the restaurant. Hey, stuff happens.
He told me he had been running behind and hadn't transferred all my music yet, apologizing for that. And, he presented me with a digital drive he was going to transfer my music on so my laptop wouldn't get bogged down with music files.
And he bought me lunch.
I said "you don't have to do that."
And he knows that. But true to his character, he believes in giving back more than what you take. And to help others when in need, without expecting anything in return.
How many times have you been asked to do something while thinking 'what's in it for me?'
Fess up. We've all been there. I'm ashamed to admit that I've been there too.
But I've been trying to make up for it since then. As I've grown older, I've come to appreciate the benefits of what it's like to be a part of a community...to give, not just take.
Neighbors helping neighbors.
The way it should be.
NEXT WEEK: "Woodn't" it be nice...
Sunday, July 22, 2012
Unhappy Valley...the Finale
NOTE: The views and opinions in the following are strictly that of the author.
Just months ago, I did a two-part column on the Jerry Sandusky sex abuse scandal that shook the Pennsylvania State University down to its very foundation.
I was praised and punished. By both longtime friends and "friends" quick to de-friend me from their Facebook accounts for taking the stand I did.
I remained supportive of Penn State head football coach Joe Paterno, because, at the time, like everyone else, I did not know the facts of the case. Thus I felt that proof, rather than raw emotion, should be my guide in forming an opinion.
This is why we have the judicial system we have in this country. Not perfect, but by far, the best we have until I see proof otherwise.
In other words, "innocent until proven guilty in a court of law".
The man himself said "I should have done more".
I thought to myself "well, what more could he have done?"
Then the report from Louis Freeh came out almost two weeks ago.
They say it takes a lifetime to build up a reputation. At least a good one. But it can take one bad moment to destroy it.
Joe Paterno's finally came last week.
The only problem was, it wasn't one bad moment. It was a series of bad moments stretched over 14 years.
14 years.
Fourteen years of enabling. Fourteen years of sacrificing justice for the sake of the university's reputation and that of its football program, and it's all in writing.
It's something I'm still trying to wrap my brain around.
And it hurts.
Plus I've heard from a couple of others who have said their childish na-na "I told you sos".
One of them went as far to say "the silence from Paterno supporters is deafening".
The silence is not from denial. But rather from the length of time it's going to take for complete acceptance to just what has happened here.
Acceptance from alumni and supporters of the legendary football program. Those who sank large and small amounts of cash into supporting the program. Because it was a very good one, and at its foundation was a coach who was quick to yank one of his players off the field if there was a hint of trouble on the field or off.
Let's also not lose sight of the fact that Paterno is only one of a great many who share blame at varying degrees in this.
We all know who bears the majority of the responsibility.
Penn State's football program was a testament to all that was right in this world, with a coach who believed in his players enough to keep them on the straight and narrow, with many of them going on the NFL or have done well professionally in their lives after football.
An entire belief structure has been shattered here.
Beaver Stadium was the church. Paterno its pastor. The university's Board of Trustees its elders. The players the energetic choir that kept the parishioners on their feet. The fans were the parishioners who gladly tithed. And tithed some more.
What's frightening is, how many other schools are also hiding such behavior?
The hardest part of it all is, the man we affectionately called "JoePa" is not around anymore to say anything for himself, especially to the deafening cry of those who supported him:
"Why?"
Only God and Joe know.
NEXT WEEK: Paying it forward...with interest
Just months ago, I did a two-part column on the Jerry Sandusky sex abuse scandal that shook the Pennsylvania State University down to its very foundation.
I was praised and punished. By both longtime friends and "friends" quick to de-friend me from their Facebook accounts for taking the stand I did.
I remained supportive of Penn State head football coach Joe Paterno, because, at the time, like everyone else, I did not know the facts of the case. Thus I felt that proof, rather than raw emotion, should be my guide in forming an opinion.
This is why we have the judicial system we have in this country. Not perfect, but by far, the best we have until I see proof otherwise.
In other words, "innocent until proven guilty in a court of law".
The man himself said "I should have done more".
I thought to myself "well, what more could he have done?"
Then the report from Louis Freeh came out almost two weeks ago.
They say it takes a lifetime to build up a reputation. At least a good one. But it can take one bad moment to destroy it.
Joe Paterno's finally came last week.
The only problem was, it wasn't one bad moment. It was a series of bad moments stretched over 14 years.
14 years.
Fourteen years of enabling. Fourteen years of sacrificing justice for the sake of the university's reputation and that of its football program, and it's all in writing.
It's something I'm still trying to wrap my brain around.
And it hurts.
Plus I've heard from a couple of others who have said their childish na-na "I told you sos".
One of them went as far to say "the silence from Paterno supporters is deafening".
The silence is not from denial. But rather from the length of time it's going to take for complete acceptance to just what has happened here.
Acceptance from alumni and supporters of the legendary football program. Those who sank large and small amounts of cash into supporting the program. Because it was a very good one, and at its foundation was a coach who was quick to yank one of his players off the field if there was a hint of trouble on the field or off.
Let's also not lose sight of the fact that Paterno is only one of a great many who share blame at varying degrees in this.
We all know who bears the majority of the responsibility.
Penn State's football program was a testament to all that was right in this world, with a coach who believed in his players enough to keep them on the straight and narrow, with many of them going on the NFL or have done well professionally in their lives after football.
An entire belief structure has been shattered here.
Beaver Stadium was the church. Paterno its pastor. The university's Board of Trustees its elders. The players the energetic choir that kept the parishioners on their feet. The fans were the parishioners who gladly tithed. And tithed some more.
What's frightening is, how many other schools are also hiding such behavior?
The hardest part of it all is, the man we affectionately called "JoePa" is not around anymore to say anything for himself, especially to the deafening cry of those who supported him:
"Why?"
Only God and Joe know.
NEXT WEEK: Paying it forward...with interest
Sunday, July 15, 2012
Cruise Control
About three weeks ago, my wife and I returned from a six-day five-night cruise to the Caribbean, a first for both of us.
My in-laws, having gone on about half a dozen cruise trips in their lifetime, decided to treat me, my wife and daughter, and her brother and his children to this trip, so that we had a chance to experience it as an extended family.
Two weeks before the trip, my wife contracted strep throat. Then me. We both paid a visit to our family doctor, who immediately put us on antibiotics, which we requested because we didn't want to be too sick to go on the trip.
When he heard we were going on a cruise, here's what he had to say:
"Eat as much as you want, forget I even exist."
He's obviously done this before.
You go hungry on a cruise trip, it's definitely not their fault.
We said from Baltimore aboard Royal Caribbean's "Enchantment of the Seas" the afternoon of Friday, June 22nd.
After some initial nervousness during 'muster', which is the same safety spiel that flight attendants give you at the beginning of the flight, I scrapped my misgivings about what happened aboard the Titanic and quickly got into the routine I would follow for the next week.
Swimming pools. Hot tubs. Gambling casino. Movie theater. Live music. Passenger-participating competitions, game shows, and other such activities. An activity center for the young-uns. Several bars. Shopping. Ben and Jerry's. Starbucks. A sit-down restaurant and buffet style dining area. A video arcade.
Of course, partaking on some of these activities is either a challenge or unrealistic if you have a small child.
Though Savannah did have fun in the activity center, we didn't feel right putting her in there more than once, because this was a family trip, after all.
I particularly enjoyed our destination, Bermuda.
The weather, along with people driving on the wrong (to us) side of the road, the absence of bigbox stores, the small cars (seriously, no one drives anything bigger than a subcompact unless you're a cop or politician), the abundance of motor scooters, were all particularly appealing, plus the turquoise ocean water so clear you could see the sand below the surface.
I was particularly disappointed at how the electronic age has diminished the glamour of having a passport. Though we had to show it multiple times, we did not get a stamp in our passport. But we still had the passcards we were issued when we first boarded the ship. I mean, that's something, right?
If you ever have the opportunity to take a cruise in your lifetime, I strongly suggest you take it. And here are some suggestions for you to follow:
If you have small children, you may want to take a short-duration cruise, just to see how they (and you) can handle it.
Pack Dramamine or other motion sickness medication. You will need it. Though through most of the trip, the waters were calm, and the rocking was gentle enough to put you to sleep, we did have one rough night at sea on our way back.
Even if you have an iron constitution, still pack it. It costs a fortune on the ship.
And antacids. They don't sell those in any of the shops. If you like to eat like I do, you will need these.
If you wish to eat dinner in the dining room, dress is formal. You don't necessarily need to break out tux and tails, but they prefer collared shirts, non-denim pants, and closed shoes. You may want to take two 'dressier' outfits to wear at dinner, then change back into casual gear in your cabin.
Royal Caribbean offers a chance for you to get your picture taken with the ship's captain if you're formally dressed. And the ship does offer tuxedo rentals on board.
The staff is made up mostly of Filipino peoples who speak fluent (though well-accented) English. Very polite, and service is second to none. So be nice.
All told, a cruise trip isn't really all that expensive. The killer is the airfare if you're not close enough to a port within a reasonable driving distance. From our Pittsburgh-area home to Baltimore, it was about five and a half hours worth of driving. That's about how long it takes me to get to my native Detroit.
Other East Coast ports include New York, New Jersey, South Carolina, Massachussetts, and of course, Florida.
I would suggest using travelocity.com. You sometimes get the best deals by booking at the last minute or near it, provided you can arrange vacation time with your employer on fairly short notice. I found a six-day cruise on Royal Caribbean boarding this Friday from Baltimore to Bermuda at $62 a day per person.
Add to that parking fees at the port, plus your gas for driving there.
And you've got a vacation you will tell many about for years to come.
Happy sailing.
NEXT WEEK: Unhappy Valley...the Finale
My in-laws, having gone on about half a dozen cruise trips in their lifetime, decided to treat me, my wife and daughter, and her brother and his children to this trip, so that we had a chance to experience it as an extended family.
Two weeks before the trip, my wife contracted strep throat. Then me. We both paid a visit to our family doctor, who immediately put us on antibiotics, which we requested because we didn't want to be too sick to go on the trip.
When he heard we were going on a cruise, here's what he had to say:
"Eat as much as you want, forget I even exist."
He's obviously done this before.
You go hungry on a cruise trip, it's definitely not their fault.
We said from Baltimore aboard Royal Caribbean's "Enchantment of the Seas" the afternoon of Friday, June 22nd.
After some initial nervousness during 'muster', which is the same safety spiel that flight attendants give you at the beginning of the flight, I scrapped my misgivings about what happened aboard the Titanic and quickly got into the routine I would follow for the next week.
Swimming pools. Hot tubs. Gambling casino. Movie theater. Live music. Passenger-participating competitions, game shows, and other such activities. An activity center for the young-uns. Several bars. Shopping. Ben and Jerry's. Starbucks. A sit-down restaurant and buffet style dining area. A video arcade.
Of course, partaking on some of these activities is either a challenge or unrealistic if you have a small child.
Though Savannah did have fun in the activity center, we didn't feel right putting her in there more than once, because this was a family trip, after all.
I particularly enjoyed our destination, Bermuda.
The weather, along with people driving on the wrong (to us) side of the road, the absence of bigbox stores, the small cars (seriously, no one drives anything bigger than a subcompact unless you're a cop or politician), the abundance of motor scooters, were all particularly appealing, plus the turquoise ocean water so clear you could see the sand below the surface.
I was particularly disappointed at how the electronic age has diminished the glamour of having a passport. Though we had to show it multiple times, we did not get a stamp in our passport. But we still had the passcards we were issued when we first boarded the ship. I mean, that's something, right?
If you ever have the opportunity to take a cruise in your lifetime, I strongly suggest you take it. And here are some suggestions for you to follow:
If you have small children, you may want to take a short-duration cruise, just to see how they (and you) can handle it.
Pack Dramamine or other motion sickness medication. You will need it. Though through most of the trip, the waters were calm, and the rocking was gentle enough to put you to sleep, we did have one rough night at sea on our way back.
Even if you have an iron constitution, still pack it. It costs a fortune on the ship.
And antacids. They don't sell those in any of the shops. If you like to eat like I do, you will need these.
If you wish to eat dinner in the dining room, dress is formal. You don't necessarily need to break out tux and tails, but they prefer collared shirts, non-denim pants, and closed shoes. You may want to take two 'dressier' outfits to wear at dinner, then change back into casual gear in your cabin.
Royal Caribbean offers a chance for you to get your picture taken with the ship's captain if you're formally dressed. And the ship does offer tuxedo rentals on board.
The staff is made up mostly of Filipino peoples who speak fluent (though well-accented) English. Very polite, and service is second to none. So be nice.
All told, a cruise trip isn't really all that expensive. The killer is the airfare if you're not close enough to a port within a reasonable driving distance. From our Pittsburgh-area home to Baltimore, it was about five and a half hours worth of driving. That's about how long it takes me to get to my native Detroit.
Other East Coast ports include New York, New Jersey, South Carolina, Massachussetts, and of course, Florida.
I would suggest using travelocity.com. You sometimes get the best deals by booking at the last minute or near it, provided you can arrange vacation time with your employer on fairly short notice. I found a six-day cruise on Royal Caribbean boarding this Friday from Baltimore to Bermuda at $62 a day per person.
Add to that parking fees at the port, plus your gas for driving there.
And you've got a vacation you will tell many about for years to come.
Happy sailing.
NEXT WEEK: Unhappy Valley...the Finale
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