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Good Mountain Press Monthly Digest #10b
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~~~~~~~~ In Memoriam: Aunt Mazel (1922-2010) ~~~~
Obituary from Houma Courier: Mazel Agnes Babin Breaux, 88, a native of Donner and a resident of Denham Springs, survived by five daughters, Ethelda Diecedue, Verlie Kidder, Jenell Ledet, Marlene Corpora and Margaret Hassell; six sons, Raleigh Breaux, Michael Breaux, James Breaux, Harris Breaux Jr., Lynn Breaux and Millard Breaux; 22 grandchildren; 32 great-grandchildren; and one great-great grandchild. She was preceded in death by her husband, Harris Joseph Breaux Sr.; one daughter, Joy Ann Morvant; her parents, Peter and Daisy Babin; five sisters, Zelda Musso, Merlin Seauzianeau, Odette Clement, Lillian Bonvillian, Annette Matherne; and two brothers, Lester Babin Sr. and Dio Babin. Survived by two sisters: Clara Barrios and Clarice Bascle.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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~~~ GOOD MOUNTAIN PRESS DIGEST #10b Published November 1, 2010 ~~~
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Quote for the Kick-the-Bums-Out Month of November:

I didn't know before I got there and they told me all this — that Rome had Senators. Now I know why it declined.
Will Rogers (1879-1935) , American humorist, quoted from Patriot Post's Chronicle April 7, 2010

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~~ Click on Heading to go to that Section (Allow Page First To Fully Load). ~~
THE GOOD MOUNTAIN PRESS DIGEST #10b, November 2010
Archived Digests

             Table of Contents

1. November's Violet-n-Joey Cartoon
2. Honored Readers for November
3. On a Personal Note
       Movie Blurbs
4. Cajun Story
5. Recipe of the Month from Bobby Jeaux’s Kitchen: Pepper Medley
6. Poem from The Sun Mystery: "Intellectual Resurrection"
7. Reviews and Articles Added for November:

  • Due to long cruise, no new Reviews were added this month.
    Hope you enjoy the travelogue and the abundance of photos.
    To read most recent reviews, Click Here!
The Sun Mystery 8. Commentary on the World
9. Closing Notes — our mailing list, locating books, unsubscribing to Digest
10. Gratitude

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THE GOOD MOUNTAIN PRESS DIGEST #10b
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ARCHIVED DIGESTWORLD ISSUES ON THE WEB
 
~ ARCHIVED DIGESTWORLD ISSUES ~
2000: INAUGURAL YEAR: Jun  
#1 Jul  #2, Aug  #3, Sept  #4, Oct  #5, Nov  #6, Dec  #7
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2010: Jan#101,Feb#102,Mar#103,Apr#104,May#105,Jun#106,Jul#107,Aug#108,Sep#109,Oct#10a,Nov#10b,Dec#10c
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1. November Violet-n-Joey CARTOON:
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For newcomers to the Digest, we have created a webpage of all the Violet-n-Joey cartoons! Check it out at: http://www.doyletics.com/vjtoons.htm Also note the rotating calendar and clock that follows just to the right of your mouse pointer as you scroll down the page. You'll also see the clock on the 404 Error page if you make a mistake typing a URL while on the doyletics.com website.

The Violet-n-Joey Cartoon page is been divided into two pages: one low-speed and one high-speed access. If you have Do NOT Have High-Speed Access, you may try this Link which will load much faster and will allow you to load one cartoon at a time. Use this one for High-Speed Access.

This month Violet and Joey learn about New Beginnings.

#1 "New Beginnings" at http://www.doyletics.com/images/103010jv.gif

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2. HONORED READERS FOR November:
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Each month we take time to thank two of our good readers of Good Mountain Press Digest, books and reviews. Here's our two worthy Honored Readers for this month. One of their names will be in the TO: address line of your email Digest notification. Our Honored Readers for November are:

Christopher Tidmore in New Orleans

Wes Gralapp in Alexandria, Louisiana

Congratulations, Christopher and Wes !


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3. ON A PERSONAL NOTE:


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Downeast Travelog:

The month of October got off to fast start and never slowed down till the last day with a Saints game in the Superdome on Halloween Night, National TV, and a try for the Guinness Book of World Records for the most costumers in one place, namely the Dome. One of the boys who called Del "Mom" when we lived on Marcie Street and our boys were youngsters, Peter Marino, came into town and dropped by with his friend Todd. Peter wanted to see our new house and say hello. He lives in Oakland, California now and doesn't get to New Orleans very often. He and Todd loved our large lawn and mused over how much it would cost for a place like this in California, if you could find a piece of land this large at all.

I found out that my mother's sister, Mazel Babin Breaux, had died on September 29th and her funeral would be in French Settlement, a small town near Baton Rouge, on October 2. Had heard of the town, but never been there, and that helped me decide to attend the funeral, along with the opportunity to visit with some of my Babin cousins and their spouses.

Good service, good music, beautiful new church, but it was set so far behind the original wooden church (which seems still in use) that I drove right past the church wondering where the cars were — the parking area was empty! Turned around in Dollar General parking lot and went back and drove through driveway between the old church and rectory. Saw only one car in front of rectory and suddenly way off to the left of the cemetery, there was a brand new brick church. Walking inside I saw the re-creation of an old wooden church, all-open supported by vaulting arches of wood. It looked to be all wood, till my cousin Danny Barrios and I walked over and saw that the wood panels were attached inside the large I-beams of metal which were painted a matching wood color. Absolutely beautiful architecture! ! !


Drove home immediately after the funeral mass was completed to watch the LSU and Tennessee football game. Del joined me to watch the very end of the game. The clock ran down to zero on a play where LSU's so-called quarterback missed the snap from center and was thrown for a huge loss. When time ran out on LSU, I turned off the TVs immediately, not in disgust (because that's long been traced away), but in peace, accepting a 4-1 start and my prediction that if Miles didn't start Lee, we would lose the game. He put Lee in as QB way too late and not often enough. Del and I left immediately for our granddaughter's architecture firm which was hosting the large Art for Art's Sake event downtown. It wasn't until we got back home that I learned of the 13-man play that Tennessee pulled as the clock ran down to zero! A penalty, another chance at the end zone and a TD won the game for LSU! What a wonderful balancing for LSU of the Ole Miss last play fiasco last year, which ended with LSU losing the game. Guess who the big hero was? A voice from a LSU lineman from last year's Ole Miss loss stuck in our center's head and, as the clock was winding down to 3 seconds, said, "Don't let the clock run out while you're holding the ball, HIKE it anyway!" so T-Bob Hebert hiked it without a call by the befuddled QB Jefferson and that HIKE saved the game for us.

Time running out with 13 men on the field would NOT have been a penalty, only that HIKE saved the night and the game and the year for LSU.Against Auburn a couple of weeks later, LSU was not so lucky, and with multiple dropped passes, LSU lost the game by a TD. With the Alabama game looming, LSU has another chance to play a real QB and win a big game. The Saints have had trouble winning games this year, and barely pulled out a win against the Panthers, a game my friend Guntis and I went to see. A great stop by Osama Young kept the Panthers from kicking a last second field goal and the Saints won.

We spent the rest of the first week of the month getting ready for our Downeast Cruise on the Crystal Cruises Symphony. We had been aboard this ship for our Italian Cruise in 2008 and it was gonna be like coming home. We needed to get some gardening work done, our clothes packed, and to move the contents of our inside fridge and freezer to the one in the garage. One of the lessons learned from Katrina is never leave seafood in freezer when going on vacation during hurricane season, so I cooked a large seafood gumbo and invited friends over for a gumbo party. The party was such fun that my camera never came out of my pocket, but I did get a photo of the dining room table before folks arrived. Joining us for gumbo and the fixings at the table, clockwise from the left were Annie, Guntis, Burt, Del, Mark, Don, Connie, and me. Next time I promise a photo with people in it.


FROM BIG EASY TO BIG APPLE



Our limo driver was Walter Ambrose, of Italian and Spanish parents. Told him to check out Stephen Ambrose, historian and founder of WWII Museum in New Orleans. He, our limo driver, had four girls and then a boy. Gave us a long interesting talk about his twenty-five years in NYC since coming to states. I'm an American now he said. He drove us right to The Time Hotel on 49th St, only steps off of Broadway. We unpacked a bit and went for a long walk down Times Square. Saw the large screen TVs which have replaced many of the Neon bright lights. Pixels instead of neon. One display took photos of crowd and a hologram character — a gal was shown taking, developing a Polaroid print, and then showing it to us. Once she grabbed about three people from the live crowd image, picked them up, and showed them to us up close. All done by computer, 24/7, and a great illusion. We spent some time looking at where the girl might be looking down own on us, but decided that she only existed in some computer software like the Emergency Medical Hologram of Star Trek Voyager fame. I took a photo a day or so later which showed me, Del, and Kevin in the photo, but the Holo-Gal was bending over to get some more pixelated Polaroid film, and it looks like I was taking a photo of her butt which only exists as pixels.

Try and figure out why when we walked left, our image moved off the screen to the right. A great stretch of the imagination and a real crowd pleaser by the Forever 21 company, whatever product they make or sell.

I've been in New York City several times before but only on short day trips or stopovers passing through the city. This time the plan was to stay for three days. What was different was that we have a friend Kevin Dann who is living in the city and we hoped he would show us parts of the city as places to live in, not to visit; places with residents, not tourists; places of quiet repose instead of hustle and bustle. We were pleased to find such places with Kevin as our competent guide. First he led us on his 100th anniversary of anthroposophy in America tour, which we began at the Rudolf Steiner Library and within a few minutes I had met Fred, Gerry, George, Henrik, and Walter, all knowledgeable in anthroposophy.

Each one of them reacted to my name with a recognition that told me they were Good Readers of my Steiner reviews. Several of them said so when I asked how they seemed to know me. It was great to put faces on the anonymous statistics I get of my readers each day in my web site logs. Our tour group comprised, in addition to me and Del and Kevin, Carole (Kevin's bride) and George Centanni who is from New Orleans. He is a relative of the man who created the famous Christmas displays at the Centanni House on Canal Street in New Orleans for several decades when Del and I were young. This was the first and biggest Christmas decorated house and was a must car trip for the whole family in the 1940s and 50s for some night during December. Kevin led us around through Union Square and then Washington Square where we joined Kevin on a New York Open House Tour guided by another guide who led us through Washington Square and its historical buildings. Sometime on our wandering we ended up in the Strand Bookstore with its 18 miles of books. By the end of these two tours, my head was filled with enough facts to fill an entire NYC skyscraper up to the 71st floor.

I rested in a passive activity area while Del, George, Kevin and Carole watched buskers doing acts to a large group of people. Later in Washington Square park we saw this guy with a large mask on playing chess and the guy next to him seemed to be a ventriloquist. Turns out the masked guy is a part of a televised show later that night. Del got free tickets, but it was after Jersey Boys and we decided not to go.

Kevin was talking to a young man, early 20s, playing guitar on a bench. I was walking over to the area and found a dollar bill on the sidewalk. Don't recall ever having found a bill of any kind before. Del said, "Lucky day!"referring to what the guys did in the funny movie we saw recently, "Seducing Dr. Lewis". They put money on the board walkway every morning where the Dr. Lewis could find it and feel lucky. They hoped to get the doctor to stay and help bring a new industry to the small island off Newfoundland. I immediately put the buck into guitar case of the guy from Austin and encouraged Del and the others to do the same. Since he had a harmonica attached around his neck, I asked if he would play a song on both guitar and harmonica at same time, and he performed the Battle Hyman of Republic as we sang along with him. Met his girl friend who rode up on a Schwinn bike. She said he didn't know how to use the shift gear levers so I suggested she put the rear wheels off ground, rotate the pedals, and watch how fast the wheel goes as she shifts to each gear. She thanked me. Carole came back and joined us as we made our first Subway trip. She took care of the difficult part, how to buy a ticket, by using her own card to get us through the turnstiles. We got off where she said to, and were right next to our hotel.

I had an emergency when we got back to room . I tried to set up my LapTop and had no power adapter. It may be hidden in another case, but I remembered a Computer Store around the corner on Broadway. Went down and yes, he had a Universal Adaptor for $199. Way too much. I said, I only paid $400 for LapTop and its adapter. He thought a minute and said "You can have it for $159." "Too much, I can do without my laptop till I get home." I left to go and he stopped me with "99 dollars" — for that I could buy a universal to ensure that I could recharge my Laptop during the trip.

Took it back to Rm 1504 of The Time and went through the A-H plugs with the tiny black on black raised letters looking in the pack for the B adapter for Toshiba modelsS. There was none. I found a backwards F and decided that perhaps the closure on the b was missing. Tried it and it worked.

We dressed for "Jersey Boys" and walked there just in time to get into our seats. The guy on the left of me used his cell phone to text during the play in spite of an announcement to not do that. The play was a dynamic musical, and the interesting history of Frankie Valli whose high-pitched voice sounded like a gal during his early career at 15. He was a high school dropout from Jersey. Bob Gaudio was the great music composer and ran the band into hit after hit, scoring biggest on the song that no one wanted to record or listen to because it was so slow, so unusual, and it became their greatest hit, "Can't take my eyes off of you."

I remember that song when it came out — it sounded different than any previous pop song. Everyone knew that popular songs would never sound the same again. Here, in the person of Frankie Valli, was someone who grew up with our generation and helped make the last half of the 20ath Century more bearable.

After the play we walked back and stopped at Charlie O's for Del to get some hot French Onion soup. Gus called to tell me that LSU's QB Jefferson couldn't do anything under pressure and Florida had run ahead of LSU 29-26 with 3 minutes to go. I decided to stay with Del and let her finish her soup rather than to hightail it to a TV. The best I could imagine was a field goal to tie the score and I would have to watch the OT in suspense when we got back to the hotel. But Gus called to say that Jarrett Lee led the Tigers to a TD with 3 seconds remaining! We won! I cheered in Charlie O's. LSU 6-0 and Nick Saban bit the dust in a big loss to Spurrier and S. Carolina. We went back to the hotel and crashed almost immediately — another busy day on Sunday ahead.

On Sunday George and Carole came to pick me and Del up in front of our hotel. As Carole drove due west on 49th, there was the Cruise Terminal with about 6 ships lined up, but we couldn't see the names on ships. It was just a mile or two west of our hotel to our ship. Without bags, a 15 minute walk. We drove to the Cloisters Museum and walked into the building and walked through the herb garden. Del and Carole found many of the Biodynamic Prep Plants we needed: comfrey, stinging nettle, chamomile, valerian, esquisetum arvense. I took photos of all the Preparation Plants. Then Kevin showed up with Mickey (Melanie), another dear friend. We walked through the museum and looked at the famous Unicorn tapestry, we even bought a large throw pillow cover with the design on it. We saw the Joseph and Mary marriage that so impressed Carole and Kevin and took a photo of them in front of it in a similar pose.

After the Cloisters visit, Kevin &Carole split off to go to a wedding and Mikki drove George, Del, and me to St. John the Divine church and we toured the church and took photos.

I lighted a Rose Window votive candle for my mom (Annette), brother (David) and other friends. Took photos of the incredible bronze Archangel Mi-cha-el statuary group in the garden next to the church, then said goodby to Mikki and began to head to hotel. I saw a taxi dropping off a family and asked if he could take us. George rode with us and for 12 dollars we got near the hotel and got out to walk a few short blocks.

After George left, I remembered that my T300 Sony Camera which I dearly love was acting up again, getting the shakes, beginning to vibrate at random, and I didn't want to be hassled by a faulty camera while taking photos on our cruise. I knew from previous experience that the intermittent shakes would soon be followed by constant shakes, making taking photos problematic. I wanted a dependable T300 for my cruise in Newport on the America's Cup Yacht, so I walked to a store with CAMERAS in its display case, only a half-block away which . I knew that the Best Buy store back home would no longer have the T300s, but perhaps at this Times-Square store they would. I told the clerk what I wanted and he tried to sell me a newer version of the T300 saying the battery would be the same size. I thought that was unlikely, but if he didn't have the T300, and the battery fit, that would be okay. Just as I figured, the battery did not fit and only then did he admit he had a new T300 which he could sell me. Hooray! Why didn't he tell me that? I told him I wanted only the T300, but he had to do the upgrade sales pitch and waste my time. I never shop a second time at a store which pulls that number on me. I took the camera for the listed price since it matched the price I paid for my other T300 and walked out with a brand new, bright red T300 ready for the open waters of the Atlantic off Newport and Halifax.

I already had two memory sticks of 1 Gb each which handled about 800 full-resolution photos and two batteries, so now I had three batteries: two to carry with me, one in camera, and one in camera case, plus one back home charging. I didn't want or need a 2Gb memory stick even if they gave it away for free, and I told him that. Didn't keep him from lowering the price to $39 and chasing me to the checkout counter waving the 2Gb stick in the air as it were a free lollipop and I were a 7-year-old. After he gave up and left me alone to checkout, the checkout clerk again went through the same pitch for the lollipop I didn't want and then the manager came over and took up the "FREE LOLLIPOP! ! !" refrain. In disbelief on their part, I began to walk out of the store with only my red T300 camera happy as a kid who had a bag full of lollipops.

Then one clerk pulled out a small pair of binoculars, the size I had in mind walked to the door with me and told me to try it outside. I did and it worked nice but the price was $400. He talked about its "HD" and I said, "It's got High Definition and High Price and I don't want it." I left with my purchase as he ran down his sales pitch procedure to lower the price. Worse than Tijuana. Yes, I might have gotten my T300 cheaper, but I didn't want to hassle over something I wanted. And I was so delighted to have a new one and no worries about being on my sailing cruises and unable to take photos dependably. I went through that mess in spades on our Italian Cruise and never again. I'll send the other T300 in for warranty repair as soon as we get home and I'll have a pair of cameras ready to go with three identical batteries, and two battery chargers!

With my new camera I received the most precious thing of all: a camera which worked exactly like the one I had used and loved for about 5 years. Yes, there are newer cameras with all kinds of exotic features, but none that comes already programmed the way I like it! The red camera will be my everyday camera and the silver T300 will go out on warranty repair and will be a backup camera to come along on long trips as it can hold the third battery and be available if and when the red one starts the shaking thing.

On our last day, Monday, in NYC, Kevin joined me and Del at the TIME Hotel for an impromptu walk down to the Marble Collegiate Church with respites at Bryant Park, Herald Square, Greeley Square and other local parks. The Greeley Park had a seated statue of Horace Greeley, with a newspaper in his right hand (President of Typographical Union No. 6), famous for his "Go West, Young Man" Proclamation. Kevin also took us to the NY Public Library, which was closed because of Columbus Day, but we managed to get lionized on the front steps with photos to prove it. We saw the Columbus Day parade a couple of blocks off, another prime tourist stop, no doubt, but we knew it would chew up most of the day that we wished to spend discovering the quiet pleasures of living in NYC instead of drooling over some long, noisy and crowded parade. Later we saw two authentic Italians carrying a banner in honor of Columbus and that was my idea of a great Columbus Day parade.

The Marble Collegiate Church which Norman Vincent Peale had headed for many decades and from whose pulpit he preached his Power of Positive Thinking was positively closed for the same holiday, but we were able to visit the beautiful chapel and view the bronze of Peale on the grounds. From our productive touring day, I now know for a certainty that it is Herald Square (not Howard Square) in the famous song, named after the New York Herald newspaper and containing a bronze of James Gordon Bennett, its beloved founder, editor and publisher.

In Bryant Park we found a Japanese couple making a heart out of tiny stones on a park table and a bronze statue of Wolfgang von Goethe, from which I assiduously removed all traces of pigeon drippings (in its pixel incarnation) for this Digest. These marvelous small parks added a human dimension to the great metropolis which is rarely discussed or appreciated by the visiting tourists, always anxious to get to the next famous place. They will pause briefly at the George M. Cohan statue at Times-Square to read his famous words, which echoed our own as we prepared to leave the kind streets of New York City, "Give my regards to Broadway." And like them we had to rush on to next destination. It was another wonderful day with Kevin, a great friend, who helped us make friends with The Big Apple by showing us how to take a Big Bite out of it.

IF YOU CRUISE, YOU NO SNOOZE

That was our motto for our Downeast cruise along the New England coast to view the Fall Colors and visit two foreign cities we have never been to before, Québec and Montréal. During the 1970s when I lived in New England, I'd visited Boston, Newport, Bar Harbor, St. John N.B., and Halifax N.S. So when the cruise offered sailing excursion tours in both Newport and Halifax, I jumped at the chance. I signed up to sail an America's Cup Yacht in Newport and in Halifax a 75-foot ketch with tall sails including firing a cannon out at sea.

After growing up on "Treasure Island", "Horatio Hornblower", the "Crimson Pirate", and other sea adventures, I thought it would be fun to be aboard a sailing ship as we fired a cannon. We planned to have so much fun, there would likely be time for taking a snooze in the afternoon. As it turned out our captain ended up canceling the scheduled day in St. John, New Brunswick due to a Nor'easter and with that storm the Halifax Tall Ship and Cannon-firing excursion also got scuttled.

Our first night aboard the ship we met with our table mates for the early seating in the Crystal Dining Room. Harry and Carolyn from Ohio, Jack and Susie from Sarasota, Florida, and Bob and Mary from Savannah. Everyone said their name, but were having trouble remembering all the names, so I started off the serial introduction process. "I'm Bobby from New Orleans and to my right is Carolyn from Cleveland." Carolyn had to introduce the person to her right, and repeat her name and mine. Thus it went all around the table till it got back to me and I had to say everyone's name and place of origin. By that time, everyone had heard everyone's name 8 eight times and had said everyone's name and place aloud at least once. Very effective and fun. Mary didn't want to do it, but by her time, she was ready and did fine, getting all the names right.

On our last day in Manhattan and first day aboard the cruise ship, Del went on an excursion to Lady Liberty from Paris and I had a massage by a lady from Sweden. It was just the ticket to soothe the legs muscles that had been tromping around the island for three days.

WHEN IN NEWPORT, SAIL

Anyway, that's what I did. About 35 years ago I sailed into Newport Harbor with a wild and crazy Portuguese sailboat owner at the helm. I'll tell you that story in a minute, but first let me tell what I learned on my tour aboard the Heritage, an America's Cup 12-Meter Class ship. The ship was actually about 63 feet long, the 12-meters being a complicated calculation involving a square root and I'll spare you that detail. It is a great ship, designed to race for the America's Cup and was one of two such ships sailing today. The other was the Columbia and that was neat because I could get full-length photos of the Columbia as she sailed by us as well as photos of the Heritage from aboard her. A 3-man crew, one at the helm and two raising sails, grinding, handling the sails as we tacked. Each passenger got an opportunity to man the helm, including two lady passengers who guided us through several tacks. The wind was about 7 knots, the seas were calm, and the sky the purest blue you can imagine. All in all a perfect day for sailing. We sailed to the edge of the Atlantic at one point and but for lack of time, we could have enjoyed several more hours of sailing on the ocean.

THE SAGA OF THE JOHN D.

Nothing that happened aboard the Heritage resembled in any way my sailing adventure aboard a 26-foot cutter in 1975. John had a sailboat harbored in Fall River, Massachusetts and asked for volunteers from the research department at the Foxboro Co. to help him sail it over to Newport harbor in nearby Rhode Island. This would be about a three hour sail, he said. We looked at the map and sure enough it was a straight shot out of the Fall River to Newport Harbor. What could go wrong?

Well, just about everything, short of losing anyone over board. The minute we got out of Fall River harbor, we went into a tack against a heavy head wind and Captain Di Grazia's cap flew off in the breeze. Bad omen. When the ship leaned over to the right in the tack, all the gear we'd stored below on the left side of the small cabin flew over to the right side or dumped onto the floor, including the contents of the ship's refrigerator. Then when we tacked again, everything from the other side hit the floor. About the same time as the first tack, we noticed that the dinghy which held our only power motor (7 hp) had come loose from the rope. Seems the Boy Scout who said he knew how to tie a knot, had never learned to tie a nautical knot which can withstand constant tugging and slack!

We suddenly had to make a complete turn to retrieve the dinghy in heavy seas and tacking several times in a maneuver which wore us out and we hadn't even left Fall River's harbor more than a long stone's throw! Maybe an hour was wasted retrieving the dinghy and this time the Captain tied a nautical knot to really secure our dinghy. Few of us imagined how important that dinghy would be before our odyssey was over, nor how long it would take.

Already we had used up more than half of the three hour estimate and hadn't left the outside of the harbor. Newport was many hours away in a head wind, which meant aiming for where you're not going or rather first to the left of where you want to go, and then to the right of where you want to go and hope that somehow you average it out so you get where you want to go. Suddenly I was learning why sailing north along the New England coast was called sailing "downeast"! The prevailing winds blow north and up the coast, so sailing north, you have the wind at your back and it's like sliding down a hill. Sail south from Fall River to Newport and it's like climbing up a hill, one damn tack after another.

I didn't think much about any of this during the voyage because I was seasick immediately. Twelve foot rollers were coming at us from first one side and then the other as we tacked left and right. The only place I found comfortable was to sit on the open stairway down into the cabin, and as I did that, I noticed that water was covering the floor of the cabin. The Captain said, "Don't worry" and that only made me worry more. I asked him at one point about the radio and he said, "Oh, I forgot to charge the batteries, it's not working." What else did he forget to do, I wondered. We were soon out of sight of land and stayed out of sight of land for nearly 12 hours! Some of us mused that the next land we might see is Portugal! Yes, our Captain had a map and he had a compass. Yeah, great! The same instruments his ancestor Prince Henry the Navigator had when he sailed 400 years earlier! I wondered how one says, "Get me off this damn ship!" in Portugese in case we encountered a rescue ship. Captain John was oblivious to our concerns, and kept saying, "We're right on course!" with an air of happiness that bordered on mania more than euphoria and those words hardly allayed our suspicions that he had no idea where we were.

After awhile, my fear of being lost overcame my seasickness and I began to enjoy the rising and splashing down on each wave and the monotony-breaking tacks to the other direction. Ominously it began to get dark, but it was not a storm, just the end of a very long day and land was still not in sight. We ate what soggy food we could forage from the bottom of the cabin, checking the radio to see if miraculously the batteries had recharged themselves. They hadn't.

Suddenly out of the dim light came the most welcome sight of the day, LAND! To starboard, in the direction where the United States would be was some flat land. Captain John checked his chart or whatever it was he checked to navigate and declared that we would have to go back out to sea! This was not the entrance to Newport harbor, but rather it was the Seekonnet River, a tidal strait some 14 miles long which lead up to where Captain John wanted to dock his boat. We held a meeting of crew and we decided that we were not going to let Captain John take us out of sight of land in the dark!

As I learned from the crew of the Heritage the two most useless things on a sailboat are an umbrella and the owner! And John was the owner. His opinion was useless against the crew who demanded we stay in the protected waters of the river and power our way to the dock without having to lose sight of land again. It was a decision we would regret as the long night wore on. We tied the dinghy we had spent some much energy rescuing up to the side of the sailboat and started the motor going, the tiny 7 hp motor, which began inexorably pushing us up the Seekonnet River to safety and home. In the dark. With no radio. No battery for our running lights. Only a flashlight to read the chart. Up we went into our own heart of darkness carrying our own madman Kurz with us to what we hope would be a safe harbor.

Gone was the relentless head wind. Gone was the endless tacking from one side to another. Gone was the uncertainty of whether we would ever see land again. It was here, a short distance to each side of us, the barren reaches of the banks of the Seekonnet.

Here also was the relentless current of the Seekonnet flowing out to sea. Here was deep darkness. Here was the buoy banging against the side of the ship if we went too far out of the channel. Suddenly red and green took on a new meaning and importance! Port was LEFT and its color is RED. Starboard is the other side RIGHT and its color is the other color GREEN. When a boat approached us it was crucially important in the dark to know if we were passing it properly or not and the lights told us. If we see only RED, we are passing on its PORT side, if GREEN on its STARBOARD side. If we see both lights, we heading for a collision. We needed no caffeine to keep us awake during this long night, this voyage into darkness, we had RED and GREEN to keep us awake.

There were other lights of importance, those on the radio towers which were carefully listed on our charts. By identifying these towers around us and matching them to the charts, we could keep track of how far (or how little) we had moved upriver. By best guess, the river was flowing about 6 knots and we were making about 7 knots with the 7 hp motor wide open. We could now estimate that if nothing else went wrong, we were in for a 14 hour trip into the darkness, or rather from the darkness into the light of morning. About 10 pm we found a dockside where we could use a phone to call home to calm our wives and family that we were safe. If they only knew how little safe we felt as we got back in the boat heading upriver at the speed of 1 knot, about 1 mile an hour, meeting things which literally go BUMP! in the night, praying that our gasoline holds out, and that we steer clear of any approaching ships by making the correct interpretation of the red and green lights floating ominously towards us in the dark. We can see them, but they probably cannot see us, except for our frantically waving flashlight, whose batteries we conserved as much as we could.

We were getting close, the river was not as wide, but that meant the boat slowed down even more, and then it happened! The boat came to a standstill with the motor running fullspeed right in the middle of an open bridge passage. The narrowing due to the bridge cause the current to speed up and we were running as fast as we could and staying in the middle of the passage. Another strategy session ensued in which we decided that two of us would have to climb onto the walkway that went around the bridge's piers on one side, and haul the sailboat through the heavy current like old Sal hauling a barge on the Erie Canal. It was our only option, and it worked. Soon we were clear of the heavy current and could make our slow, but sure and steady headway into morning, if only our gas would hold out. We prayed some more. Soon dawn broke and we were still trucking at 1 knot towards the eventual dock.

Capt. John shouted, "There it is!" He was pointing to the dock we were aiming for, several hundred yards away when suddenly the sailboat ran aground. Remember the tidal strait phrase I mentioned? The reason the "river" had a current is because the tide was floating out all night and the harbor's water was not deep enough for the sailboat. Our chagrin was quickly replaced by relief when we realized that we completed our promise to the boat's owner, "To get his boat to the new harbor." We packed up our gear, got in the dinghy and as I recall we ran on fumes in the empty gas tank to get ourselves to the dock and to our waiting automobiles. It was about 10 am and we had left Fall River the previous morning almost 24 hours ago on our three hour sail. We sailed against the headwind all day and motored against the tide all night and we were done, and done in. I imagine that I sleep the rest of the day when I arrived home in Foxboro, glad to be alive. Thus ends the Saga of the John D. — a true story.

And when I returned from sailing on the Heritage I took a long nap. So long Del and I missed the 6 pm seating for the early dinner and talked to Maitre D' Norbert about finding us a nice table for the 8:30 late seating for dinner. We had always chosen the early seating before and thought that with all the day-time excursions the next few days, the late seating might suit us better. For this night, we had a table for two Norbert promised to find us a table for eight late seating for the next night. This was the first formal night and we got our photos taken by two of the ship's photographers.

BOSTON CHOWDER AT THE PARK

We planned only one day in Boston and arranged to meet two friends there, George from Boston area and Carole Dann from NYC who was in Boston that day. Had we known we would have an additional day in the Boston port, we would not have compressed both meetings into one day.

My friend George was late because the poor Internet connection on our rocking and rolling cruise ship made emails difficult. The last email he had gotten contained my guess about where our ship might dock. As it turned out, we were docked at the distant Black Falcon dock and bussed to the Quincy Market area. So George tried to find our ship while we waited for him at the Market. He arrived shortly before Carole did and the four of us had a delightful visit over fish chowder and other specialties at Durgin Park, a long famous restaurant whose early days goes back to when the ships docked across the street from Durgin Park's current location. The dock has since moved far away, but the restaurant still serves its fish chowder and signature dish, Prime Rib. A restaurant journalist was at the adjacent table and had asked for their signature dish. He allowed me to take a photo of it, a huge rib hanging out over the plate attached to a prime rib!
Someone told me a story, I think it was George, about a group of businessmen who ate at Durgin Park one night. One of them made a pass at the waitress which was curtly rebuffed. Later when their prime ribs were served, the insolent man was served last in a special way: the waitress nonchalantly dumped it upon his lap.

George and I had a lot of catching up to do, as our previous meetings had been on-line, and luckily Carole and Del took the time to get to know each other better while George and I talked about our various endeavors. Carole is the wife of Kevin Dann whom we had just met in New York City.

The second day in Boston, necessitated by the Nor'easter which was blowing through, was a quiet day aboard ship for us. We found out eventually that our stopover in St. Johns, New Brunswick was to be canceled due to the weather and that it was a tendering port, meaning we would have to anchor offshore in heavy seas and winds. While our anchor would hold, it would be hazardous to transfer passengers to tenders and the tender journey would not be so tender! So after Bar Harbour we would make for the port of Halifax, which is located in about the middle of the kidney-bean-shaped Nova Scotia peninsula.



BAR HARBOR AND UP CADILLAC MOUNTAIN


The cruise out of Boston and into Bar Harbor was uneventful. Once there we were originally planning a tour of Acadia National Park via carriage ride on the some 55 miles of carriage trails designed and paid for by John D. Rockefeller. The carriageways circumnavigated and looped over the autoways and give ample opportunity for photographing the beautiful vistas and peak fall color. However, Father Rain had other ideas and our open carriage had to be replaced with a large tour bus which could make only two stops within the park and at places where there was scant color. The color was truly magnificent but many of the photos had raindrop spots and necessitated extra photo processing time back home for our intrepid photographer at a time when he would much rather have been writing a review or two.



Here's a direct quote from the photographer: "We were forced into a large, very large bus with rain-spotted windows which couldn't stop anywhere there was color! And there was more solid color than I had ever seen before any where and any time. What an utterly frustrating experience! The one time we had a chance to clean the spots off the windows, the rain picked up and re-spotted them. Later the rain stopped when there was little color. The driver took us to the top of Cadillac Mtn where there was little color. All the color got locked into my mind and a little of it got into my camera. Should have taken a taxi whose drive was at our command! Next time, for sure."

Before the tour we walked along the Main St. and found a quaint New England Common (Land inside a traffic rotary) very much like Foxborough's and had a guy from Chicago who had returned here for a visit take our photo. He showed me a photo he'd just taken at a gallery.

Clued me to watch for the place and we went in and saw our painting, the one for our bedroom that we have been seeking for months. I saw it first and walked to the side. Del stared at it and watched me to see if I liked it. It was the end of the tourist season and the painting was on sale. It had only arrived the day before so it would surely have been gone if we hadn't seen it on that day and we would have been there the day before it arrived if the storm not delayed our arrival. A lovely hand-painted scene of white birches with fall colors of yellow and reds through out the painting. Trudy the saleslady knocked off $30 more and that covered half of the Fed Ex shipping & handling charges. We should receive it by Thanksgiving.

We ate at Testa's Restaurant. Had some clam chowder which always goes down well in frigid weather. We saw a guy from our first table, Harry Keagler, who came in at sat at the bar. I have met many architects, but Harry is the first prison architect I'd met. What other architect ever gets a call if someone breaks out of one of their designs? Anyway, beknownst to me, I left my credit card in the waitress's folder when we headed out the restaurant. Since we were headed north for several days and had no reason to eat in Halifax on shore or use our card in Quebec City, I didn't miss it till we ate at Verse's Restaurant in Montréal. Thought back to last time I might have used it. Del checked our receipts and found the one for Testa's Restaurant and we called its phone. The gal said, "Wait a minute while I check the stack." Del told her the blue color at the top and yellow at the bottom and this helped to find it immediately. We have since received the card in the mail and are most grateful to the fine people of Testa's Restaurant in Bar Harbor and their assiduous handling of left behind credit cards.

HELLUVA DAY IN HALIFAX

Del had booked a tour for a Queen's Tea in the Halifax Citadel, remembering no doubt the marvelous Queen's Tea at the Empress Hotel in Victoria, B. C. during our Alaskan cruise. Would have been better if she had forgotten that Queen's Tea and skipped this one. Must be because the New Orleans Saints won the Super Bowl that Hell was frozen over up here in Halifax, Nova Scotia. What a frigid day after that Nor'easter blew through the Maritime Provinces, the wind freezing our fingers and toes as we walked on ramparts of the Citadel fortress overlooking Halifax. It's a small, but feisty port city which built its Citadel to protect it from enemies, not from the water, but from the land side. Who? I asked. "You," the Canadian guide replied. "You mean, the Yankees, not us," I replied. The guide explained that the locals were on the Southern side during and after the so-called Civil War, needing our cotton and shipping guns and ammo to us in exchange. To bypass the Yankee blockades of southern harbors, their ship off-loaded onto fast gun-runners who could land by night in isolated areas of the Gulf of Mexico. Once the Yankees chased a gun-runner all the way back up to Halifax.

He headed for safe harbor and was helped to escape by another route past the Yankee ships to continue his work in helping Halifax and the southern fight for liberty. The large, sturdy, and cold, did I mention cold? Citadel was ironically never required as the assault from American military forces never came. Just a little over-cautiousness on the part of Canadians, but we Southerners know about trusting Yankees, so we can understand. Perhaps if Fort Sumter had been as sturdy as the Citadel that ignominious war would have never happened or it might have had a different outcome.

Before the Queen's Tea Excursion to the Citadel, Del and I had a quest to find the ship on which our Latvian-born friend Guntiss Melbardis came to North America on back in 1950. They had been living in Switzerland during WWII and decided to immigrate to Canada who opened its borders to European refugees after the war was over.

Guntiss, or Gus as most Americans call him, has long since been naturalized in the USA and now lives in Algiers Point, the across the river portion of New Orleans. He told me that the food aboard the ship during his passage to Halifax was horrible, but found that the German refugees were not complaining. Apparently the food in Germany was worse than that aboard ship, but in Switzerland the war-time food was much better than the ship. So we took a taxi to the Maritime Museum and plunked down $10 for the taxi fare. We paid our admission of $15 to enter the Maritime Museum and then asked, "Where's the ship?" No one knew. They decided that if there is such a ship, it would be at the Immigration Museum. Where's that we asked. At the port where your cruise ship is docked. Another head-shaking great. Here we were in the wrong museum full of nautical stuff we're not interested in on the coldest day of the year for us. Del looked around the museum inside and I walked outside to see the one ship that was docked at the Museum, a 100-year-old Cartography Explorer ship. Had a steam boiler for motive power and two large masts for sail power if they got in trouble in the hinterlands of northern Canada as they drew maps of terra incognito, such places as Baffin Island, etc.
I walked aboard, took a few photos, got offers from the small crew to answer questions if I had any. That's the kind of tour guides I like best. Answer questions and leave me alone otherwise. When I got back inside, Del had disappeared. I tried calling her but she didn't have her cell on or with her. I walked all over the places I didn't want to go to and no Del. Saw two deck chairs of the Titanic, an original one all weathered and behind glass and a reproduction ready to re-arrange on the decks of the Titanic. As the rescue home of the survivors of the famous sinking, Halifax devotes the top floor of their museum to the Titanic, including the famous deck chairs of metaphoric renown that people, like those in DC, are always rearranging while the ship is sinking.
"THE SHIP IS SINKING! RE-ARRANGE THE DECK CHAIRS FOR SHUFFLEBOARD!" seems to be the eternal cry from the hounds of doom and gloom in Washington, D. C., when it is pointed out that Social Security is a Ponzi scheme that is going down as surely as the Titanic did.

But enough about the tempest and now for the pot of tea, the so-called Queen's Tea at the Citadel. In a room which resembled the barracks we sat on wooden benches at a long wooden table upon which had been incongruously placed a series of white napkins and candles. A waitress came out gave us our choice of Orange Pekoe Tea or water. The tea came with soggy scones which were under baked. Doing our best to pretend to be British, we kept a stiff upper lip and right pinky, and pretended to enjoy it, but secretly Del and I wished we were in the Palm Court aboard the Symphony having our Himalayan Darjeeling Tea with strawberries and whipped cream, tasty scones, cucumber sandwiches, and petit fours.

After the tea, we celebrated our warming-up by walking on top of the ramparts to view the two-toned gray city of Halifax from its highest point and the point least protected from the frigid wind. Then came an outdoor rifle demonstration of the black powder Enfield adapted to hold a cartridge and bolt. These muzzle-loaders could only fire about 2 shots a minutes and you had to stand up to reload in battle. With the cartridges one could reload and fire a dozen or more times a minute.

We learned about a French Munitions ship which blew up in the harbor of Halifax and destroyed the southern portion of the port city. A telegraph operator notified Boston which had a train about to depart and the citizens of Boston quickly loaded the train with relief supplies and medical personnel for Halifax in its time of direst need. For that act of unselfishness, the citizens of Boston have received a large fir tree during Christmas time each year which is decorated and lit in the Boston Common almost a hundred years after that famous blast.


Finally we headed back to the bus and the warmth of the Symphony. We napped and then listened to the Jazz band play New Orleans-style improvisational jazz pieces, ending with "When the Saints Go Marching In". At last it was time for our late seating for dinner and we soon found that our six table mates, being all from California, inevitably spent most of the time talking about guess what? California.

ROCKING AND ROLLING AT SEA

We knew we were in for it after Bar Harour. The Nor'easter had blown through and we were facing head winds of 65 knots and seas up to who knows how high. Our Norwegian-born Captain seemed to relish the challenge of these typical North Atlantic conditions, but we land-lubbers were not as enthusiastic. Before it got dark, we watched the huge waves splashing over the prow on Channel 52 in our stateroom 9072.

Our hope for respite from the wind and waves lay far ahead in the Bay of St. Lawrence, but it was at least onr or two night's sail away from us. The singer in the Galaxy Lounge managed to belt out every Andrew Lloyd Webber tune she knew while holding onto the grand piano and her microphone to keep from sliding across the stage. Earlier I was in the computer room trying to get off an email. It took me nearly an hour as the first email was lost during transmission after I had finished it. Had to start all over, and this time I saved it in a separate file before trusting the Tortuous Terpsichore of the Seas' transmitting antenna to connect with and send it successfully to a stationary satellite high in the sky! As I was typing the second email, my chair rolled away from the keyboard about 7 feet! I pulled myself back and had to finish the email while holding on with my left hand and typing with my right hand. On a rocking ship, what else can one do for fun? Even sipping a glass of wine is a challenge. I noticed that those drinking directly from beer, wine, and whiskey bottles had little difficulty with spilling any precious contents. Must be why the bottles usually have long necks.

For me, this was a great test of my speed trace to remove seasickness. Remember how I was sick on the deck of the John D.? I had tested the efficacy of my speed trace under rocky conditions in the Gulf of Mexico on smaller fishing type boats, but this was the acid test for me. I passed with sailing colors (not pea green) and, except for a little acid stomach one night, which I quickly did a speed trace on to remove it, I was fine during the 24-hour marathon test.

The next morning we got up about 9:30 and almost missed the Lido Café breakfast. My tummy was full and no food seemed like a good idea, so I ate very little. I went back to the room and slept till about 2 pm and went down to Bistro for a latte and custard tart. Del found me there and we hung around till the 8;30 dinner time, finally feeling like dressing for informal night. (Informal means no tux, but a sports coat, no tie ok and cocktail dresses for the ladies) Met Ed and Josephine at Table 84 and had a nice light dinner, followed by the comedian at the piano with the frizzy hair. He had shot photos of various places on the ship and used them to poke fun at the ship and especially at Halifax's drabness. Was good to laugh at anything when the ship is plowing heavy seas. Some time in the middle of the night we felt the ship's entrance into the protected waters of the St. Lawrence River as the seas mellowed out.

QUÉBEC CITY IS MIGHTY PRETTY

A "quebec" in native language is a short neck in a river, and next to the dock where we moored was such a short portage and there was a ferry traversing the river across that eponymous spot. The bridges were a long distance away, east and west of downtown Quebec City, so the ferry was kept busy with commuters. We took a tour of the city because of the obvious climbing that would otherwise be necessary. Our bus drove up to an overlook in this city's Citadel, also built to protect them from the Yankees invasion. Luckily the Yankees chose not to invade or else maybe they would have lost that war and we'd all be ending sentences with "Eh?" and going crazy at hockey games, Eh?

Much nicer day for this visit to a Citadel than in Hellifax. Lovely yellow stuff appeared, what was it called, we wondered, Oh, Sun! Yes, not very warm, but a welcome relief from the frigid, blustery walk on the top of the other Citadel. This Citadel, overlooking the St. Lawrence river with its verdant banks instead of the two-toned gray wharves of Halifax, was a beautiful sight and my spirits began to lift. If this weather holds, perhaps we can enjoy our next stop in Montréal as well.

We also visited the Plains of Abraham where the famous battle of the French against the British was fought and led to the province of Quebec becoming British.

Best view of the city is from the Chateaux Frontenac Hotel's front entrance which is torn up for a restoration. A new plaza seemed to be in the works. Nearby is the towering statue of the city's founder, Samuel Champlain. Below his feet were an older married couple entertaining, she singing pop songs, and he playing a saxophone. The color was near peak in Quebec City, but our feet were past their peak so far as walking, especially up and down hilly streets, so we returned to boat. Del took a nap, but I hazarded a walk down Rue St. Paul (seems to be a common main street name, both here and later in Montréal). Mostly nautical-themed antiques, and not much else. Returned to ship wishing I'd stayed aboard.

We chose to accept Jay's invitation to join his table for the early seating this night. (My friend from the Heritage cruise) We got to Table 17 before Jay and his wife did and got to meet Mike and Patty from Las Vegas who welcomed us to fill out the table. Then Jay and Jean joined us, followed by Clint and Renne. The table was abubble with amazing conversations all evening. We made instant friends with everyone. Renne has an identical twin named Ruth, Clint is a heart surgeon, Mike has a 24-yr-old Downs son at home he loves dearly. Patty is a estate attorney, Mike is in insurance and runs an Irish Pub with his partner who is on his death bed. We considered ourselves lucky to have Clint, Renne, Jay and Jean on our tour bus of Montréal the next day.

THREE NIGHTS ON ROYAL MOUNTAIN



Okay, actually three nights in the city whose name means "royal mountain" — Montréal. Remember El Camino Real? The Royal Road of California, not the "Real Road". We came into port at night and after another night on the ship, we moved onshore to the Saint-Sulpice Hotel. My reaction to the prospect of being in Montréal for four days was immediately negative. From the deck of the Symphony all I could see is gray buildings. Halifax all over again, I thought. Predictions were for rain all day and tomorrow and near freezing temperatures. Bon Dieu, give me a break, I prayed, figuring that praying in French might be obligatoire ici. I mused over the possibility of canceling our hotel room and taking an early flight home. But we finally decided to use the last day on the Crystal for an excursion of the city, and we were very glad we did. As soon as we made the decision, some breaks in the clouds appeared.

Our tour was wonderful. Our shapely and charming French guide Annique spoke wonderful English and had a great sense of humor. We toured through the city up to the Mont Royal necropolis and back down. Learned about the underground expressway, shopping malls, and ped. walkways connecting the city's businesses and residents. Had Jay and Jean Herz sitting on bus with us along with Clint and Renne. Clint, I found out here, is a heart surgeon. No wonder his gentle demeanor. When we stopped at "Make Out" point, I suggested that Clint and Renne get in the spirit of the place and they kissed for the camera.

The inside of Notre Dame was magnificent. Huge, colorful, and ornate. Four-tiered pulpit carved of Black Walnut. Sacred Heart Chapel a shining room of gold and walnut. Popular wedding site for locals.

Came back and decided for a goodbye dinner with our first companions at the early seating: Harry and Carolyn, Bob and Mary, and Jack and Susie. Was a good time. I brought Mardi Gras necklaces for the three ladies. They wore them and got in the spirit. Norbert Teas the Maitre D' was great. It was he who at our other table had come up with the Chinese name for "veal" — would you like to learn the name fo veal? You have to use a sharp inflection as you say it: "Yung Kow". I tried it on this table and it took several seconds for the ambiguity to register and they loved it.

SAINT-SULPICE HOTEL — A SUITE TREAT

This is known as a boutique hotel, which I would normally understand to be a postage stamp size room like we had at the TIME Hotel in NYC. This place was huge compared to the TIME and to our stateroom on the Symphony. We had several closets and ample room for our luggage. And we didn't bump into each other constantly. Our hotel suite had three rooms plus hallway, a full kitchen with fridge, stovetop, microwave and expresso machine, two large TVs and a working fireplace. I enjoyed full-time broadband Wi-Fi for the first time since NYC with a comfortable chair and an ample desk to write from. Our friend from the Serenity Cruise to the Baltic Sea in 2009, Marjorie Taylor, came to meet us in the afternoon with her jogging shoes on. We followed her through the maze of above and below ground Montréal downtown labyrinths. The city has a 4-lane freeway which scoots below its downtown skyscrapers, and interleave around the roadway is a subway system, shopping malls, and pedestrian walkways.

Along the tour, Del asked if she could go to a bookstore to buy the third book of the Dragon Tattoo Trilogy, "The Girl Who Kicked Over a Hornet's Nest". With Marjorie's capable help, we finally located up on the street level, an Indigo bookseller who had the book in hardback. Del was fixed for my watching the LSU game and the flight home. In fact she finished it a couple of days after we got home, and she kept her nose in that book every free moment. It has gone on my To Read shelf.

We took a taxi back to the hotel and went up to dress for dinner while Marjorie waited for her husband Scott to come and join us. Scott had chosen some restaurant on Rue St. Paul and we had a lovely dinner. Still stuffed with the three large meals a day for 15 days, Del and I both enjoyed eating light for our first night in Montréal. The dinner was so delightful that once again my camera did not make it out of my pocket. Luckily I had taken a photo of Marjorie and Del when she came up to us in front of the hotel earlier.

The next day was Saturday and we planned a quiet day. First order of business in the morning was to figure out the promised Continental Breakfast. I went down to lobby and spotted what looked like remnants of a breakfast area with only juices and coffee remaining. Some guy in a suit thought the same thing. I read the newspaper and waited for Del to come down. When she did we explored a bit and found a way into the restaurant which seemed to be the real Continental Breakfast area, but there was no one to greet us or to explain if it were so. We helped ourselves to some cereal and tried our best to replicate our Lido Café breakfast experience.

A gal helped by getting us orange juice. The coffee was good. The strawberry yogurt cup was good. A nice light breakfast was welcome, but we left puzzled by how the breakfast area was run. Should we have ordered eggs? We didn't know. The next morning we were a little better prepared for breakfast, but only on the third time, a Monday, when Daniel the Maitre D' came over, I asked him about eggs and he said, "Yes, we can prepare them for you for a charge of $10." It was great! Now I know why I felt strange. There were servers there, but no Maitre D' and that's why we felt strange. No better example I can think to explain how important a Maitre D' is to a restaurant or a hotel. He helps remove the awkwardness and makes the guests feel at home. He offers things unasked for but very necessary. It takes time to develop an ability to notice those unasked for things.

But I digress. We did some shopping on Saturday, buying souvenirs for ourselves and some friends back home. We came back to our room to rest a bit and then walked out looking for a local small café in which to have a light lunch. St. Paul Café came to our rescue with a window seat and a delight waitress named Ruthsie who had lovely bright eyes and was marvelous. I had the wild mushroom omelette and toasted English muffins. From our seat in the window we could see the Symphony in port for the first day of the cruise going back down to NYC. Imagine how glad we were not to be going over those seas another time, as we heard the trip back was going to as bad as the trip up, with heavy winds and seas. We were so delighted with this café we returned there for lunch the next day. The Symphony had sailed by then.

On Sunday we went to Mass at Notre Dame Cathedral, just a few steps outside our hotel entrance. The service was entirely in French, so I was surprised to suddenly hear the priest speaking in "English" the words "Gloria in Excelsis Deo". I mused over how much more familiar the service would have sounded if it were still done in Latin. All the Latin I know came from going to mass in Latin for the first fifteen years of my life, lots of vocabulary and very little syntax, conjugations and declensions. I never found a Latin verb I could decline. After mass we had lunch at Ruthsie's place, and then we got a map and headed for Jacques Cartier Square. I was able to get photos of Admiral Horatio Nelson in the up on his monument, his right sleeve empty at the elbow, just like the one in Trafalgar Square in London. Lost an eye and his right arm in battle and continued to lead the British navy as Admiral. Famous story told about him. In a battle at sea when it looked like the British were doomed, a message came from his boss to retreat. Nelson saw the flags rising for the retreat message, and suspecting its content, raised his telescope to his blind eye, and charged into the battle with renewed vigor and turned the tide, winning the battle. He later claimed, in all honesty, he never saw a retreat message.

We stopped into an Art Borealis shop. I was intrigued by the large carved bears who seemed to laughing and dancing. I asked the director Sam and he took out of its case, a large laughing bear carved of native stone from Baffin Island to show it to me and let me take a photo. He told me how the Eskimos believed that they are reincarnated as animals.

If as a seal or some other prey of the polar bears, they will not be very happy. But if they are reincarnated as a polar bear, they consider themselves so lucky they will laugh and dance. Thus, these dancing bears represent reincarnated Eskimos who are expressing joy at their reincarnation as polar bears. I took a few photos, but the smallest bear was several hundred dollars and the large ones close to $6,000, so we bought nothing, but did take Sam's business card in case we changed our mind. Someday we'll own one of those bears. The story affected me because we, you and I, have reincarnated as human beings, and as the polar bear is the highest and most powerful of the animals of the polar regions, so we as humans are the highest of all of God's creation, higher than animal, and we should laugh and dance in that realization.

On our last night in Montréal, Jens & Céline Jensen joined us for dinner. We suggested the Verse Restaurant where we had the great broccoli soup the first day. A short walk to the corner and we had a great meal and conversation. How great was it? I forgot to take a photo once more. We talked a lot about SteinerBooks, as Jens is an important part of the publishing company. He told me that he worked on Tomberg's "Christ & Sophia" and that it was a great book. I have that waiting on my To Read list. The book is translated from the German original; Tomberg was Russian, but he wrote the book in German. He also recommended highly this book by Carl Unger "Language of the Consciousness Soul" published by St. George Press. Need to get myself a copy. He's been urging SteinerBooks to publish a new edition of it.

AU REVOIR MONTRÉAL !

Monday morning came, our day of departure, and I read the local newspaper. It had an article about the Cleveland Browns win over our New Orleans Saints. It explained that Scott Fujita, former Saint from our Super Bowl team, had been suggesting the Brown plays depending on the Saints' substitutions.

Still Drew Brees had 374 yd passing, but Scott got one interception and two other guys got the other 3 INT's. Sean's gonna need an Offensive Coordinator to call plays that are different than those he used last year. Also, it occurred to me that not having Reggie Bush in the backfield has also made Saints more predictable. Even Fujita couldn't predict what Reggie would do or when he would get the ball.

Early in the morning before our departure I watched an amazing lecture on TV by Frank Dumont, Professor Emeritus, McGill University. McGill is apparently an excellent university from what the tour guide had said. I found out that our friend Scott Taylor is a graduate of McGill. The professor lectured on "Laughing Rats and Cuddly Octopi," explaining experiments which demonstrate that laughing helps humans live longer. He quoted many authors, most of whose books I have read and studied, Damasio, LeDoux, Norman Cousins, Donald Hebb, etal. Said their research with the functions of the hippocampus, cortex, limbic region, neocortex, etc, of the Central Nervous System confirms that laughter and levity helps prolong life.

"He who laughs, lasts." is how I like to put it.

He made an excellent point that planning for a good future is the best predictor of a good future because the process creates the desired future. Sounds like an idea for a new Matherne's Rule.

Many of my Matherne's Rules are founded on the belief that good beginnings can start at any moment from now on.

Every limitation expressed can be undone and turned into a new good beginning by using the limitation eraser. Perhaps you have never seen the limitation eraser used in actual practice, up until now.

Thinking of all these things inspired me to reframe the old cliche, "Every good thing has to come to an end" into "Every good thing has to come to a new good beginning." As we were leaving the room upstairs for last time, I tried it on Del, "Everything good thing has to come to a . . . new beginning." A few minutes later, I said it to Alexandre the bellman, and he liked the new ending which indicates every ending is a new beginning. I tell you this so that when a Violet & Joey cartoon appears using this bit of dialogue, you will understand that so many of the cartoons come from conversations that Del and I have together. And with that I found the new Matherne's Rule, "Every good thing has to come to a new good beginning."

Daniel, the Maitre D' at the hotel of Saint-Sulpice Restaurant, was there when left and his expertise was much appreciated. I ate my usual of Cereal and milk, croissant and chocolate croissant, strawberry yogurt, coffee. I told Daniel that we were from the other French city in North America, Nouvelle Orleans. He asked if we were going back to stay. I said, "The temperature in Montréal yesterday was about our coldest day in winter. No 12 foot snowfalls and no -20 degC temperatures." He said, in a delightful mocked plea, "Take me with you!" He was fun. Sorry we only had him for one morning. C'est la Vie.

After 18 hours of rocking and rolling at sea, a little airplane turbulence seemed insignificant on the flight home, what was not insignificant was the 20 minutes sitting on the tarmac waiting for our bay to open up so we could get off the plane. The 40 minutes between the end of this flight and our next flight has suddenly shrunk to 20 minutes and we discovered to our dismay that it would take 25 minutes to get from where we were to our next departure gate, and our rushing double-time on the motored walkways was constantly interrupted by a voice over the loudspeakers saying, "Passengers who are not at the gate 20 minutes before departure time will have their reservations canceled." Was this some kind of cruel joke? We huffed and puffed and scuttled our carry-on baggage from one motorized walkway to the next, almost knocking down those who were too slow. Then we finally arrived at the new concourse, hoping that Gate 37 would be in the middle of the concourse, but no such luck, it was also at the very end and we were scooting along quick-time again, arriving just as the last passengers were being loaded. In spite the loudspeaker torture announcement, we were welcomed aboard.

Our flight to New Orleans went well and we enjoyed a relaxing walk down to our baggage area, they were waiting for us, a taxi pulled up right away to spirit us across the Mississippi River to our home.

EVERY GOOD THING COMES TO . . .

COMES TO a new good beginning. We are home! We unpacked, we watered the garden, I went to see my Snapper lawnmower with its new Briggs&Stratton engine installed. I told them to deliver it. Worked all day Thursday on my trip photos. By the end of the day, I had completed 712 photos, cropped, compressed, lightened, brightened, de-red-eyed, identified, impressionistic brush stroked, discarded, turned into Digest photos, and Lord knows what else. Only 121 photos left to do.

The next day I worked from 4 am to 8 pm writing up my Personal Notes which for this month will be a Traveloque. I've included some stories to break up the monotony of "one darn thing after another" which travel logs can easily become. It is now the 30th of the month, and I usually have my Digest done by now on a typical month. I am waiting for Del to return from her overnight trip to Alexandria to celebrate our grandson, Weslee being crowned Duke of his school's homecoming. Then it's another full day of copy-editing, proofing, and adding photos to go with the Traveloque, which will unfortunately replace my usual reviews. I have completed reading a couple of books this month, but their reviews will have to wait till next Digest. It's been fun having all of you along on our journey which has now come to a new beginning.

TILL NEXT MONTH

Till we meet again in December for the Christmas Holidays, God Willing and the River Don't Freeze.

Whatever you do, wherever in the world you reside, be it hot or cold, make it a great Christmas Season for you and yours! ! !

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  • New Stuff about Website:
  • Five Magical Journeys:

    1. Jim Nollman's Dolphin Dreamtime — The Art and Science of Interspecies Communication.

    Imagine a musician floating in a kayak in the North Pacific strumming on a waterproof guitar powered by a fifty pound battery. An underwater saucer-shaped loudspeaker propels the sounds to attract dolphins and killer whales. This is the reader's picture of Jim Nollman, perhaps the first Pied Piper of underwater denizens. Nollman got his start in inter-species music-making improbably enough in a turkey yard. Blowing on his clay flute, he was able to induce the turkeys to gobble on key and on beat to his songs. In fact, they became co-singers with him.

    Later he extended his inter-species experiments by performing a ballet in a buffalo herd. By carefully pacing his approach to the huge animals to match the movements of the lead buffalo, he was able to approach within 25 feet or so.

    Then an astounding thing happened: a yellowish glow appeared surrounding the herd and moved like rings of smoke towards him, stopping only a few feet in front of him. He placed his foot carefully into the yellow haze, and the lead buffalo snorted and threatened to charge — then he pulled his foot out, and the buffalo calmed down. After several repeated trials, Nollman remained out of the yellow zone and soon the buffaloes ignored him. He had entered buffalo time and become one with them, and he had seen the physical energy field of the buffalo herd. Others, not having seeing it, had probably triggered the type of stampede that he had been warned might happen if he approached the buffalo herd.

    Nollman makes a great case for our moving from a Specimen to a Participant approach when dealing with animal cultures, i.e., to learn to enter the world of nature as an anthropological participant rather than as a scientist ready to dissect a large carcass for cataloging and analysis. By becoming a living part of nature we humans have a chance to learn once more that the gift which animals offer us is a "guide back to balance."

    2. Dan Millman's The Way of the Peaceful Warrior — A Book That Changes Lives

    A fascinating book, particularly so if you are hearing the anecdotes of the peaceful warrior, "Socrates" for the first time. Unfortunately for me I wasn't. There were one or two that were new to me, such as the story about the old woman, who seeing a mother lion crushed several hundred feet below her on a cliff side, threw herself over the side so that the lion cubs would not die from starvation. The others were re-runs from other books such as the overflowing teacup one. Socrates illustrates this one by overflowing the gas tank of a customer he was servicing, which seems less prudent than spilling a little tea to make a point. On the whole, the retread of the many stories gave the book the flavor of a constructed story rather than a true story as it is purported to be.

    The story line is: Socrates is a midnight shift service station operator of non-specified ethnic origin, about 92 years old, when he meets the author.


    Millman is a student of gymnastics at UC Berkeley. Socrates impresses Millman by jumping to the roof of the station and back down, takes Dan on as a student, and begins midnight to 5 AM lessons. The subjects range from meditation and diet to advanced gymnastics and along the way Socrates is supplanted by a young female athlete named Joy.

    When Socrates didn't have a handy story to illustrate a point, he'd grab Dan by the temples in the middle of walking through Berkeley and suddenly Dan would be in another world dying in the middle of the desert, his body turning into dust, years passing by, and then just as suddenly, he'd be back on the street in Berkeley.

    Two key coded questions and answers which Socrates teaches Dan: Where are You? and What time is it? The answers are of course "here" and "now" — how did you ever guess without reading the book? If you didn't guess — better read it in self-defense, so you can be ready for the attack of "the peaceful warriors" coming soon to your neighborhood.

    3. Marlo Morgan's Mutant Message Down Under — Discover the Wisdom of an Ancient Culture

    The mutant down under is the author herself, who undergoes a three-month walkabout across the Australian Outback and creates this lovely story that restores the Aborigines to their proper role as the Real People of the continent.

    Are the Aborigines untruthful and cowardly? Do they possess poor memory? Is their sense of smell undeveloped? Do they have no willpower? Do they suffer pain less than others? Do they have no works of art or history? During her trek the author debunks the myths held by newcomers to the Real People's continent.

    The journey began as a jeep ride to what the author expected would be another rubber chicken lunch and an award presentation for her good works with the Aborigines. After a six-hour trip into the desert, she was deposited with a tribe of Aborigines outside a metal building and asked to don a simple garment for a cleansing ceremony. She watched as her clothes, gold watch, rings, shoes and undergarments were held over a fire by a woman of the tribe with a big loving smile on her face. She's cleansing them, too, she thought, and as she watched, to her horror, the woman dropped them into the flames. Part of her cleansing, it seemed, was to include complete separation from the artifacts of the mutants.

    Then to her chagrin, after some preliminary comments about her passing the cleansing rite, the entire tribe, her jeep driver and all, began walking into the desert. With only the choice of trying to retrace the long jeep drive through trackless desert alone or following them into the desert, she set out with them on the walkabout carrying her only possession in the world at the time, a rock she had selected during the cleansing ceremony. A rock she was told, "may save your life ."

    Walking in the desert barefoot in 110 degrees over thorny spinifex (beach grass), her feet became a bloody red mass in which the red-painted toenails seemed to disappear into the color of her feet. "Focus your attention elsewhere" they told her. She remembered giving similar advice in her healing ministry and followed it as best she could. At the first stop, one of the women applied some oils from native leaves and her pain eased. She slept on the ground, ate grubs, ants, crocodile, kangaroo, and whatever other food the region provided them in response to their daily prayer to the earth for food.

    When the black flies covered her body, crawling inside her nostrils and ears, she felt herself going mad. The others just stood there and let the flies have their way. The elder of the tribe explained to her that the flies were cleaning the very crevices that she would need to be able to breathe during the hottest days of the desert sun, and to hear clearly. Without clear nostrils, she would have to open her mouth to breathe and would likely die from dehydration.

    Slowly she began to grasp the wisdom of the Real People. One day she was told it is her turn to take the lead. She didn't feel ready to solo, but they made it clear that it was up to her. The tribe would live or die depending on the decisions she made in the next few days. For three days they traveled with no food and no water. Soon her throat refused to open and in desperation she asked inside herself for help. A voice said, "There is the rock." She placed the sacred rock, her only possession in her mouth. Soon moisture began to form in her mouth, and she could breathe again. Immediately thereafter she stumbled upon a pool of water and, as they drank joyously, a huge desert lizard walked by to volunteer for their supper feast.

    They arrived at a secret cave, their destination, and she discovered the history of the Real People written on the cave walls in beautiful pictorial artworks. They admitted her into the crystal temple which was used for weddings and sacred rites. She read on the wall that the elder of the tribe, Regal Black Swan, was born on the same day as she was, on the other side of the world, and that they had been destined to meet after fifty years, so that she could become the messenger of the Real People to the outside world.

    Whether one chooses to believe that this fictional account actually happened to the author or was pieced together from Aborigine folklore, one must accept that she has portrayed a powerful image of the powers of the original people of a great continent, powers that we can discover in the Real People in every one of us, if we dare to look within from now on.

    4. Robyn Davidson's Tracks — The exhilarating tale of a willful woman’s solo trek across 1,700 miles of Australian outback

    Robyn Davidson began with a simple idea: head for Alice Springs, capture three wild camels, and trek across the 1700 miles of desert to the Western Coast of Australia. After two years of taming camels and that wildest beast of all, herself, she set off on her journey, but not before she has nose-pegged, hobbled, tracked, injected, castrated, and killed camels during her camel training preparations for the trip.

    Determined to make her trip alone to best understand the desert and the ways of its indigenous people, the Aborigines, she caved in at the last moment and accepted support from National Geographic for her trip. This brought with it ample funds, periodic visits from Rick, the photographer, and an unwanted infamy by the end of her trip. She makes it clear in her writing that the photographs Rick took recorded his trip not hers.

    Robyn's trip was a communion with the desert, her dog Diggity, and her camels. Each day started with an hour or so of packing 1500 lbs. of gear on her camels, after she had located them. Camels, in order to forage naturally, had to be hobbled at night. This necessitated tracking them down in the morning and returning them to camp. During an early leg of her trek an Aborigine, Eddie, accompanied her for 200 miles. Eddie was "healthy, integrated, whole" and "If," she writes, " 'to be truly civilized, is to embrace disease,' then Eddie and his kind were not civilized."

    After months of walking twenty miles a day through the desert, every step thinking over her life's experiences, recalling every event in crisp detail, she experienced a "giant cleansing" and a "gentle catharsis". Dropping every last vestige of civilization, at times she walked dressed only in her sun-toughened brown skin, oblivious to cuts, nettles, and bleeding. She had become a creature of the desert, acclimated to its every nuance of terrain, flora, and fauna. When she reached the abandoned settlement at Carnegie she was shocked to find an even more desolate place than she had been, "man's desert", where overgrazing by cattle had eliminated many species of naturally occurring plants, replaced by poisonous ones such as the turpentine bush. When she encountered two men who had traveled by jeep through the same region, she was appalled that they hadn't even noticed the change.

    In a day when travel over long distances is seldom made at speeds below 70 mph, Robyn Davidson takes us through the uninhabited desert in slow motion and shares with us her recovery of herself along the way.

    5. Tom Brown's The Vision — The Dramatic True Story of One Man's Search for Enlightenment

    Tom Brown takes us back over the territory he marked out in Tracker, but with a newness and freshness that makes it seem all new. It is the story of his life as a young boy growing into manhood in the Pine Barrens wilderness of New Jersey in the companionship of an Amerind playmate and his grandfather. We learn here for the first time about Grandfather's life, how he became a loner, cast out from his tribe by instructions from a great dream he had. He was told to live alone, wander the far reaches of two continents, and finally to live in New Jersey, where he was to locate the young white (Tom Brown) that had appeared in his great dream.

    During the training of Tom and his grandson, Grandfather once came into camp in the opposite direction from which the boys had laid a deadfall trap for a rabbit against his orders.

    That night Grandfather told Tom, "Your deadfall trap has been sprung, but the rabbit got away." Embarrassed, Tom left to investigate the trap. Miles away he found the trap sprung, but no rabbit - and at just the amount of time earlier that corresponded to the time at which Grandfather had told him it was sprung. When he asked how he knew, Grandfather replied, "If a rabbit moved upon your back, would you not feel it?" Grandfather was so attuned to his environment that he experienced everything that happened within miles around. Repeatedly Tom describes human capabilities in the book that are so beyond the normal, that he stretches the credulity of the reader. And it is mostly a stretch for gladness.

    The only sour notes in the book are his anti-civilization soapbox and eco-freak railings. One wonders if he considers rayon and aluminum artificial? Computers? Newspapers? Books? "Society doesn't seem to know what rapture is . . ." he says, but does he know society's rapture: museums, symphonies, ballets, films, etc.? Neither does he seem to be aware of society's spirituality in novenas, rosaries, the mystery of communion with the Body of Christ, and the sacrifice of the Mass, because if he were aware, perhaps he could see the rapture himself. If the processes that he discovered from his Amerind friends are so valuable, one would hope he could someday see them also in the midst of his native society as well as he now sees them in the wilderness.



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    Movies we watched this past month:

    Notes about our movies: Many of the movies we watch are foreign movies with subtitles. After years of watching movies in foreign languages, Arabic, French, Swedish, German, British English, Russian, Spanish, Italian, Japanese, Chinese, and many other languages, sometimes two or three languages in the same movie, the subtitles have disappeared for us. If the movie is dubbed in English we go for the subtitles instead because we enjoy the live action and sounds of the real voices so much more than the dubbed. If you wonder where we get all these foreign movies from, the answer is simple: NetFlix. For a fixed price a month they mail us DVD movies from our on-line Queue, we watch them, pop them into a pre-paid mailer, and the postman effectively replaces all our gas-consuming and time-consuming trips to Blockbuster. To sign up for NetFlix, simply go to http://www.netflix.com/ and start adding all your requests for movies into your personal queue. If you've seen some in these movie blurbs, simply copy the name, click open your queue, and paste the name in the Search box on NetFlix and Select Add. Buy some popcorn and you're ready to Go to the Movies, 21st Century Style. You get to see your movies as the Director created them — NOT-edited for TV, in full-screen width, your own choice of subtitles, no commercial interruptions, and all of the original dialogue. Often you get the Director's Cut Edition which adds back excellent footage that was cut from the theater releases. With a plasma TV and Blu-Ray DVD's and a great sound system, you have theater experience without someone next to you talking on a cell phone during a movie plus a Pause button for rest room trips.
    P. S. Ask for Blu-Ray DVD movies from NetFlix.
    Hits (Watch as soon as you can. A Don't Miss Hit is one you might otherwise ignore.):
    “Tell No One” (2006) a suspense-filled thriller involving a mysterious disappearance years earlier. Sounds like Dragon-Tattoo movie? Yes, and just as terrific in its own way. A DON’T MISS HIT ! ! !
    “Repo Men” (2010) shows an Ahrimanic immoral mechanized world gone wild with vital organs ripped out of human beings who don’t pay their bills on-time. They’ll never do that again. A lesson in humanity which will rip your heart out.
    “The Black Balloon” (2008) What if all you got for your 16th birthday was a black balloon in the form of your autistic brother who ruined your birthday, upset your girl friend, and destroyed the living room? Can you write a good ending for this movie?
    “Talvisota” (1989) portrays in stark realism the Winter War during which an out-manned Finnish army invented the Molotov Cocktail and sacrificed thousands of their soldiers lives to keep their homeland out of Russia’s hands. Bitter cold, little food, limited ammo, and ample courage saved the day.
    “Broken Embraces” (2009) Penelope Cruz stars as steno, call girl, mistress, and lover in this tale of a writer who becomes his own main character Harry Caine after his blindness. A DON’T MISS HIT !
    “North Face” (2008) spend a couple of hours on the North Face of the Eiger with these intrepid mountain climbers. Incredible story of human courage and endurance. A DON’T MISS HIT !
    “Hachi: A Dog's Tale” (2009) but not a dog’s life — about a dog who went on a long journey of ten years. Think you’ve seen this before? Not a chance. Great movie about love and loyalty between a man (Richard Geer) and his dog (Hachi). A DON’T MISS HIT ! ! ! !
    “Cairo Time” (2009) is slow and even more so when you’re a woman alone as is Patricia Clarkson until she meets a tour guide to a new world of love. Will she extend her time in Cairo when her old world returns?
    “Get Low” (2009) Duvall as old man who wants a funeral party at which he can speak live to his mourners. What he has to say will stun the people who have shunned him for 40 years. Great movie with unexpected turns throughout.
    “Sophie Scholl: The Final Days” (2005) Sophie and her brother lead the White Rose resistance to Nazi policies and are caught distributing flyers. Film shows their indomitable courage in defending their country from the extremists who had taken it over. On trial, she tells the judge, “One day you will be where I am today.”
    “The Philadelphia Experiment” (1984) about a sailor who is propelled forward 41 years from 1943 and has to deal with what went wrong as he loses his friend Jimmy and wanders in a land of strange things like personal computers and television. Michael Paré excellent in starring role. Movie is a classic and well-worth seeing again. A DON’T MISS HIT !
    “Solitary Man” (2009) is the end of the trip from high pressure car salesman to womanizer. Abandoned and alone can he find morality?
    “Toy Story 3” (2010) The life of toys after their owner, an only son, goes off to college. Sensitive and fun.

    Misses (Avoid At All Costs): We attempted to watch these this month, but didn't make it all the way through on most of them. Awhile back when three AAAC horrors hit us in one night, I decided to add a sub-category to "Avoid at All Costs", namely,

    A DVD STOMPER. These are movies so bad, you don't want anyone else to get stuck watching them, so you want to stomp on the disks. That way, if everyone else who gets burnt by the movie does the same, soon no copies of the awful movie will be extant and the world will be better off.
    “Armored” (2009) starts off with Matt Dillon frowning as if thinking, “I hope this will finally be my good movie.” He needed have bothered; his record is perfect. This one goes down the drain as fast as you can say, “What is dumber than Matt Dillon in an armored truck trying to kill a man running away from him in abandoned factory?” Another crash and burn.
    “Knight and Day” (2010) the Teflon Man and the Dingbat, Cruise and Diaz, chase a MacGuffin all over the world. face incredible odds against them, and put the audience to sleep. ‘Knight All.

    Your call on these — your taste in movies may differ, but I liked them:

    “The Square” (2008) could have referred to the contractor who found some excitement in life from a young gal in town who wanted out of her marriage to an abusive and thieving husband. Soon Ray gets involved in a scheme to burn the house after she removes hubbie’s stolen money and things go downhill quickly.
    “It’s a Boy-Girl Thing” (2006) Boy-girl neighbors switch bodies and try to survive in High School going opposite to male-female tendencies. They grow from hating each other to loving each other as they return to their home bodies.
    “Have You Heard About the Morgans?” (2009) Watch the Saga of the Klutzes who are supposed to be competently functioning adults with real jobs and yet they could not follow directions if their lives depended upon it, and in this hokey plot, they do! Nothing funny or insightful except the revelation at the end that you’ve wasted 103 minutes.


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    4. CAJUN STORY:
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    This joke may be the only shark joke extant which does not involve a lawyer in any way, plus it may be the first Cajun shark joke. Adapted from a joke told me by Cindy our garden helper.

    Two Cajun sharks were swimming around in deep water below a man who was struggling on the surface of the water.

    The Mamma Shark told her young boy shark, "T-Boo, follow me now, Cher. We can't attack right now. We must go up on the surface and circle the man three times, making sure dat he sees us."

    "Oh, Mamma, this is boring! Why can't we just eat him right away?" Lil Boudreaux axed.

    "Mais, T-Boo, didn't yo Papa teach you dat? We gots to purge him first, so dat he taste better!"

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    5. RECIPE of the MONTH for November, 2010 from Bobby Jeaux ’s Kitchen:
    (click links to see photo of ingredients, preparation steps)
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    Pepper Medley from Recipe of Guest Chef Dan Richards

    Background on Pepper Medley: This is a dish which Del's brother Dan has made for her during visits to his home in Charlotte, North Carolina. She asked him for the recipe and led me through the process of marinating and baking the peppers so that they came out the way she remembered them. For myself, I love green bell peppers, but till we put these colored ones on a Shish-Ka-Bob a few weeks ago, I never realized how delicious the red, orange, and yellow ones are.

    Ingredients
    2 large red and yellow bell peppers
    White Wine Vinegar
    Salt
    Garlic powder
    Preparation
    Preheat oven to 375 degF. Cut Bell Peppers lengthwise in 1 to 2 inch wide strips, removing white ribs and seeds. Place strips in Pyrex dish skin-side down. Add water to cover bottom of dish. Sprinkle peppers with white wine vinegar, salt and garlic powder. View here.

    Cooking Instructions

    STEP 1: Place dish in oven for about 30 minutes or until tender enough that a sharp fork or knife easily penetrates peppers. Remove Pyrex dish from oven, turn over all the peppers. Add water if necessary to barely cover the dish's bottom. View here.

    STEP 2: Place dish in over for about 30 minutes. Remove when skins of peppers begin to wrinkle.

    Serving Suggestion
    Place on the serving dish to cool for about 5 minutes before eating. Skin may be removed from each pepper strip before eating.

    Other options
    This recipe is for two peppers, but it is easily scaled up to a dozen or more depending on how large your oven is. This makes a tasty light dinner for two with a piece of toast, as we enjoyed it. Or it makes a great side dish, both colorful and tasty, for an elegant dinner party.



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    6. POETRY by BOBBY from The Sun Mystery:
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    This next passage inspired me to write a poem which follows immediately thereafter. I did not understand the lifeless nature of the intellect consciously while I was studying physics in college and for some time afterward. But I do recall the difficulty I had with expressing what I was studying and learning to some non-scientific persons who seemed to form the question Why? in a balloon over their head as I explained it to them.
    [page 82] Our intellect paralyzes us. When we develop the intellect we are not actually living. We must learn to sense that when we think we pour our life out into dead, rational images. We need to be intensely alive to sense creative life in the cultivation of dead rationality and to enter the domain where moral impulses derive from the power of pure thinking — where we learn to understand human freedom on the basis of impulses of pure thinking.
           INTELLECTUAL RESURRECTION

    In Physics
          I experienced the intellect
          As I learned to build lifeless
                rational images of
          Atoms, Quarks, and Mesons.

    In Computers
          I experienced the intellect
          As I learned to build lifeless
                rational images of
          Logic Gates, CPUs, Subroutines,
          and Operating Systems.

    In Psychotherapy
          I experienced the intellect
          As I learned how I had built lifeless
                rational images of
          Feelings, Relationships, and Love.

    In Anthroposophy
          I learned to resurrect my lifeless
                rational images, my dead thoughts
          And, with Christ's help,
          Shape them into moral impulses.


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    7. REVIEWS and ARTICLES for November:
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    And for my Good Readers, here’s the new reviews and articles for this month. The ARJ2 ones are new additions to the top of A Reader’s Journal, Volume 2, Chronological List, and the ART ones to A Reader’s Treasury. NOTE: these Blurbs are condensations of the Full Reviews sans footnotes and many quoted passages.

    Due to our long cruise, no new Reviews were added this month. Hope you enjoy the abundance of photos.

    To read our most recent reviews Click Here!

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    I hear often from my Good Readers that they have bought books after reading my book reviews. Keep reading, folks! As I like to remind you, to obtain more information on what's in these books, buy and read the books — for less information, read the reviews.


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    8. COMMENTARY:
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    In this section I like to comment on events in the world, in my life, and in my readings which have come up during the month. These are things I might have shared with you in person, if we had had the opportunity to coverse during the month. If we did, then you may recognize my words. If I say some things here which upset you, rest assured that you may skip over these for the very reason that I would likely have not brought up the subject to spoil our time together in person.

    1. Padre Filius Sees a Warning Sign in Bar Harbor, Maine this Month:

    Padre Filius, the cartoon character created by your intrepid editor and would-be cartoonist, will appear from time to time in this Section of the Digest to share us on some amusing or enlightening aspect of the world he observes during his peregrinations.

    This month the good Padre reads a Cautionary Note to Parents of Small Children in Retail Shop.


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    9. CLOSING NOTES:
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    Thanks to all of you Good Readers for providing the Sunshine which has made this site a growing endeavor. — Especially those of you who have graciously allowed us to reprint your emails and show photos of you and by you on this website — you're looking good!

    By October 1, 2017, beginning its 18th year of existence, the doyletics website will have received over 18.2 MILLION VISITORS ! ! !

    We have received about ONE MILLION VISITORS per Year to the Doyletics Website since its inception in August 1, 2001, over sixteen years ago. Over 2.5 million in the past 12 months. We are currently averaging about 200,000 visitors a month. A Visitor is defined as a Reader who is new or returns after 20 minutes or more has passed. The average is about one visitor for every 10 Hits.

    IMPORTANT NOTES about DIGESTWORLDtm

    Our DIGESTWORLD came into existence years before Facebook and all the other social media which interrupt people's schedules many times a a day. All our photos, reviews, cartoons, stories, etc, come to you via a link inside of one short email Reminder at the beginning of each month. We hope you appreciate how we let YOU choose when to enjoy our DIGESTWORLD Issues.

    We especially want to thank you, our Good Readers, in advance, for helping our readership to grow. NOTE our name is now: DIGESTWORLD. Continue to send comments to Bobby and please do create links to DIGESTWORLD issues and Reviews on LinkedIn, on your Facebook page, and on other Social Media. When you copy any portion of a webpage or review, please include this text: "Copyright 2017 by Bobby Matherne".
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    ~~ NOTE: DIGESTWORLD is a Trademark of 21st Century Education, Inc. ~~

    The cost of keeping this website on-line with its 300 Gbytes of bandwidth a month is about $50 a month. Thank you, our Good Readers, for continuing to patronize our advertisers when they provide products and services you are seeking as you visit any of our web pages. Remember the ads are dynamically displayed and every time you read even the same page a second time, you may find new products and services displayed for your review. Our reviews, digests, tidbits, etc, all our webpages act as Google magnets to bring folks to the website to learn about doyletics and frequent our advertisers, so they support one another in effect.

    We welcome your contributions to the support of the website and research into the science of doyletics. To obtain our street address, email Bobby at the address found on this page: http://www.doyletics.com/bobby.htm and we will send it to you. Every $50 contribution helps toward keeping this website on-line for another month. If you can't send money, at least show your support by Clicking the Google +1 which appears at the top of this Issue of DIGESTWORLD and every Review pages.

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    You can read a description of how to do a Speed Trace (either in English or Spanish):

    Learn to Do a Speed Trace Here



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    To make a connection to the Doyletics website from your own website, here's what to do. You may wish to use the first set of code below to link to the site which includes a graphic photo, or to use the second set of code for a text-only link. Immediately below is how the graphic link will look on your website. Just place this .html in an appropriate place on your website.

    <CENTER> < — with graphics link — >
    <A HREF="http://www.doyletics.com/index.htm">Learn to Do a Speed Trace Here<BR>
    <IMG SRC="http://www.doyletics.com/doylepb.gif" width="309" height="102" border="2" TITLE="Learn to Remove Doyles — all those Unwanted Physical Body states of fear, depression, migraine, etc." ALIGN=middle><A/></CENTER>

    <CENTER> < — text only link — >
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    </CENTER>

    Check out the new additions to the Famous and Interesting Quotations at:
    http://www.doyletics.com/quotes.htm

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    My reviews are not intended to replace the purchasing and reading of the reviewed books, but rather to supplant a previous reading or to spur a new reading of your own copy. What I endeavor to do in most of my reviews is to impart a sufficient amount of information to get the reader comfortable with the book so that they will want to read it for themselves. My Rudolf Steiner reviews are more detailed and my intention is bring his work to a new century of readers by converting his amazing insights into modern language and concepts.

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    The Good Mountain Press Digest is mailed monthly to:

    Friends and associates
    Individuals who have expressed interest in the Digest
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    Please Don't Bug Us

    Nothing BUGS US more than losing Hale-and-Hearty, Ready-to-Read Good Friends from the DIGESTWORLD Reminder List.


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    As of August, 2011 we have begun using a Contact Manager with an Email Merge feature which allows us to send personalized Emails to everyone in our Contact List. For the time being the Topica.com e-mail List Subscription List will remain active, but you will receive the colorful Email containing the DIGESTWORLD Reminder beginning with "Dear [Your First Name]". It is important that we have your First Name, so if the name you are addressed by in your Reminder is not your first name, please notify us of the name you wish us to use. For convenience you can send a quick email to give us your name by Clicking Here. To Contact Bobby, his Email address is visible on this page.

    Please do your part by letting us know of any email address change so that you may continue receiving the DIGESTWORLD Reminders. Most of our Readers come from folks who don't get these Reminders, but we offer the DIGESTWORLD Reminder as a service to our regular Good Readers. To send us your new email address, CLICK HERE! .

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    10. GRATITUDE — in Three Easy Steps:
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    Maintaining a website requires time and money, and apart from sending a donation to the Doyletics Foundation, there are several ways you can show your gratitude and support our efforts to keep doyletics.com on-line.

    One would be for you to buy a copy of my Dolphin Novel, The SPIZZNET File. Books May be ordered in hardback or paperback form from Xlbiris the Publisher here:

    online: http://www.xlibris.com/TheSPIZZNETFILE.html

    email: orders@xlibris.com

    The best source at the best price is to order your copies on-line is from the publisher Random House/Xlibris's website above.

    Two would be for you to use the Google Search Engine for your web searches or to find an item on doyletics.com website. New reviews will have a place to do a Google Search at the top and the bottom of the reviews. Just enter a search phrase in the box below to do a Search. Note you can check whether to Search just this site or all websites.

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    Look at George Burns, Bob Hope, both lived to 100. Doesn't that prove that "He who Laughs, Lasts"? Do you find nothing humorous in your life? Are your personal notes blue notes? Are you unhappy with your life? Fearful? Angry? Anxious? Feel down or upset by everyday occurrences? Plagued by chronic discomforts like migraines or tension-type headaches? At Last! An Innovative 21st Century Approach to Removing Unwanted Physical Body States without Drugs or Psychotherapy, e-mediatelytm !
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