Last month, Robert and I took our second day trip over to the University of Georgia’s Marine Extension and Sea Grant on Skidaway Island.
“By advancing research, education and training, and outreach, UGA Marine Extension and Georgia Sea Grant promotes the economic, cultural and environmental health of Georgia’s coast and prepare citizens to become good stewards of coastal ecosystems and watershed resources.” — Marine Extension and Sea Grant website
A cloudy day, with rain threatening, we braved our away onto the Sea Dawg, UGA’s 43’ research vessel.
Here’s how UGA described our adventure …
Here’s Robert looking excited and normal (and a little bit like a dark Gilligan) …
And here’s me with a sort of seated and crazed I’m-not-so-sure-about-this-floating-Dawg-thing look …
We did two trawls, and although at first glance each catch looked like it held basically one type of little fish, upon closer inspection there were a couple of dozen different fish species, as well as sting ray, jellyfish, sponges, coral, etc.
Thankfully, these trawls on the salty Wilmington River brought up very little trash.
We can’t wait for the next adventure on the water. Thanks, UGA. Woof.
Today I’m resurrecting an old blog category I used to publish each Friday where I listed five things which bring joy to my life. I ingeniously named the category “Five Friday Happy Bringers.” It’s a weekly gratitude journal of sorts.
So here’s today’s listing.
1. Brilliant fall, even in Savannah.
A cool leafing in the Design District
2. Our body’s natural ability to breathe.
On an exit door at my local Y
3. Old shoes which fit so comfortably.
4. Robert’s homemade chicken pot pies.
5. This little blog, which is enabling me to reconnect with a small but significant sense of purpose.
A blog category of pics I’ve taken of Hubby Robert and … well, just about anything.
Robert and a Really Big Steak
A few years back, Robert and I were in Atlanta to celebrate our anniversary. On previous trips, we had passed by this architecturally interesting building off I-85 just north of the city.
Wait. What? You don’t find it all that interesting? Well, Robert didn’t either. But in the spirit of blissful anniversarial celebration, I insisted that we go for our dinner festivities.
You can see why, right? Doesn’t the name itself make you happy? All circque du soleil-ish and island-drinky!
We walked through the classy daiquiri bar to get to our table. Walked too quickly, if you ask me.
Robert wouldn’t let me stop. Even though they had a wonderful selection …
Robert was hungry, so we quickly perused the menu, and my eyes immediately found the Tomahawk for two. It WAS our anniversary after all.
Here’s Cirque’s menu description of the big steak:
Neither of us being very good with numbers, 36 ounces sounded like enough for both of us.
After endearing anniversary chit-chat (“But why don’t you want to celebrate with that pretty blue daiquiri?”), 36 ounces finally made their way to our table.
We were both simply shocked. (Why didn’t we do our math homework in eighth grade?!) Here’s my husband, with a somewhat crazed and confused look on his celebratory face, holding our dinner soon after it arrived. It was far too heavy for me to pick up, but I wanted a scrapbook pic for posterity.
Hours later, and 36 plus ounces heavier, we slowly waddled back past the daiquiri bar (I was too stuffed to take a final longing glance at the “Blue Mutha”—the Tomahawk had “Shut my Mouth”) and into the Atlanta midnight.
I have always Loved, Respected and even been a bit Intimidated by the dual seriousness and joyfulness of cemeteries: those quiet repositories of yesteryear, of love, of memory, of laughter and tears, of regret, of layered history.
Here’s a post I did back in 2013 about perhaps Savannah’s most iconic cemetery.
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I spent an incredibly warm but wonderfully interesting couple of hours this afternoon at the historically magnificent Bonaventure Cemetery here in my beautiful Savannah. The day might have been heavy and muggy, but my time there was anything but. Every second Sunday the Bonaventure Historical Society offers free guided tours of the cemetery, so I showed up thirty minutes early with a big water bottle and wearing my thinnest t-shirt.
Before leaving my air conditioning, I checked out the cemetery’s website and learned that …
Though not Savannah’s oldest cemetery, Bonaventure is certainly its most famous and hauntingly beautiful. Quintessentially Southern Gothic, it has captured the imaginations of writers, poets, naturalists, photographers and filmmakers for more than 150 years. Part natural cathedral, part sculptural garden, Bonaventure transcends time.
Military generals, poet Conrad Aiken, Academy Award-winning lyricist Johnny Mercer and Georgia’s first governor Edward Telfair are among those buried at Bonaventure. The approximately 100-acre cemetery is also historically significant as a reflection of changing views on death and dying in the Victorian era. As death became more romanticized and ritualized during this period, cemeteries became lush, beautiful “cities of the dead.”
Another reason behind Bonaventure’s popularity is John Berendt’s book, Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil, which featured a cover photo of the now-famous “Bird Girl” statue, formerly located in Bonaventure. The statue has since been moved to the Telfair Museum of Art, founded through the bequest of Mary Telfair, also buried at Bonaventure.
Our tour guide, the vivacious Ms. Elizabeth Ford …
… oozed Southern hospitality and a spoke a delicious Southern dialect. (After the tour, I wanted to go home with her just to hear her talk some more. But I didn’t really know how to ask.)
Elizabeth led us around the hauntingly beautiful Gothic graveyard, along the banks of the lazy Wilmington River, regaling us with stories of the history of the place and showing us gravesites of some of the more prominent folks buried there. But what I loved most of all was the simple interplay of a deeply Southern voice leading me, slowly, on Sunday afternoon time, through such beauty.
(In the above pic, I was aiming for a cemetery facial expression.)
(I wish I had a ponytail like that guy to my left.)
My parents taught me to love cemeteries. As friendly places, reservoirs of wonderful memories. To this day, when I return home to visit them, we usually end up at one of several cemeteries in or around my hometown of Ball Ground, Georgia, where close relatives are buried. Granny Nix and Veto. Mama and Papa Saye. My brother Jimmy who lived only one week. Old Doc Saye, Ball Ground’s first doctor. Pulling weeds around a headstone, or straightening flower arrangements, we get caught up in “Remember when’s” and “She was a pistol!” and “I still miss him so much.” They taught me that I am standing tall today because of all of them who came before.
A blog category about finding “art” in unexpected places and situations.
You know you’re in serious trouble when you spend time arranging your leftovers-from-the-fridge into an “artistically” weird sort of Bento Box-type lunch.
Some fourteen years ago, when older daughter Amy announced that she was pregnant with our first grandchild, I was both ecstatic and a tad nervously hesitant. A grandfather?! Seriously?! At this stage in my life? Am I even old enough to be a grandfather … officially?!
The old blog post below explains (in excruciating detail) how I ended up being called “Abu” (Abuelo = Grandfather) by that first grandchild Daniel—and all the other ones who came later.
Younger daughter Emily is a whiz at making custom t-shirts, so she recently created these two for Robert and me. Grandson Daniel came up with the idea of calling Robert “Rbu” to go along with my “Abu,” making us a weirdly matching set.
Spanning the past year or two, a Perfect Storm of sorts has swirled around my life, mind and body, making direct hits from time to time. The storm was/is created by the following major factors (among others):
* The pandemic’s upheaval of “normal” life as I/we knew it. Causing, at the very least, worry and unease. Affecting everything from family dynamics to personal health concerns.
* The deaths of my dad and brother, as well as husband Robert’s father, stepmother and grandmother, all within the last couple of years.
* The angry and dangerously hateful climate of divisiveness within our communities, states, country and political systems. And the constant, sometimes difficult-to-ignore media coverage.
* Realizing and coming to terms with my life as an older married-to-a-guy (!) gay man, closely connected to my two daughters and their families, as well as my loving ex-wife.
* Being married to a wonderful black man and taking a serious and difficult (often very painful) look at issues of racism and social injustices in our nation and world.
* Even the seemingly silly fact that I’m getting older (I’ll reach the milestone of 70 next January!) and dealing with aging issues, which can seem both unfriendly and foreign.
So a few months back, I came to realize I needed some help. (Duh.) After reading Lori Gottlieb‘s encouraging and often hilarious Maybe You Should Talk to Someone (for the second time), I started looking for a therapist.
It took me a while to narrow the offerings down. Have you ever googled “Therapist near me”?! After all, I stand in the produce aisle, taking forever to decide on the “best” tomatoes, based on color, size, texture, aroma and how-do-they-compare-to-my-childhood-memories-of-homegrown?
What was I looking for? I guess this …
… even though at that point, I had not thought about or considered the word “anxiety” itself. I was experiencing it but not naming it.
I finally found him, and it only took a few sessions for him to gently say one day, “Neal, I think it’s pretty clear that you have generalized anxiety disorder.”
I was a tiny bit insulted. I think what I desired to hear was somewhere along the lines of, “Oh my goodness, Neal, you are a terrifically well adjusted man. Now go and BE that. You can do it. You ARE it!”
When I could breathe easier, I realized he was right.
This new blog category is the journaling and journey-ing of my quest to be able to say “Hello, Anxiety” and to take a look at the Perfect Storm. I invite you to join me.
NealEnJoy 