Looking at this old photo taken in Cedar Key, Florida possibly as far back as the early 1960’s, it’s easy to see why this restaurant is no longer there. Cedar Key was a quaint little fishing village on the west coast of Florida just below the panhandle and north of Tampa, barely an hour’s drive from where I grew up.

It was a fairly frequent weekend destination for us in less busy seasons of the year, especially when we felt the urge for freshly caught fish dinners or gulf shrimp. Sometimes someone in the extended family would drive over on a Saturday and buy several pounds of striped mullet the west coast was known for and bring them back to share with the rest of us in a joint-family fish-fry complete with hushpuppies and sweetened iced tea.

Sometimes the family went along and the grownups would fish with a cane pole sitting on a portion of the boardwalk with other fishermen, while my brothers would go crabbing with sharp pointed poles. Once, when I was 16 or so, several members of my father’s family, including my grandmother, chartered a boat and went deep sea fishing. The fishing trip was shortlived though, as a storm began brewing and the waves got choppy and several people started turning green at the gills and hanging overboard to vomit. I felt pretty superior that I didn’t have a problem, but very sorry to see how ill my grandmother was.

As I got older and more mobile on my own, I preferred to drive over with friends to eat shrimp and hearts of palm salad at the boardwalk restaurant where the views were magnificent. I’m not  certain when, but I know that it and much of Cedar Key was destroyed by a hurricane, perhaps Dora who whipped across the whole of north central Florida in 1964. The boardwalk was pretty much destroyed along with the restaurant.

When we visited Florida exactly a year ago today, it was one of the first places I wanted to re-visit after a small family reunion at my brother’s rural home in Columbia County. I hadn’t been there in 30 or 40 years and I wanted to see if it had maintained the charm I remembered from childhood.

It had changed quite a lot in some ways. I don’t remember all that many commercial buildings (top photo) back in the 60’s, and the boardwalk had been replaced at the edge of the gulf now, not extending out over it as I remembered it. I did find these skeletal foundations for what may have been part of the boardwalk where the old restaurant was.

This is what Dock Street looks like now. It runs along the water’s edge, but with the concrete sidewalk and street and what appears to be solid ground beneath them, it’s probably sturdier against hurricane force winds and cyclones, but not quite as much fun somehow as walking out over the gulf on a flimsy boardwalk.

The second reason I wanted to visit these scenes from a favorite childhood place was to meet a fellow blogger. I’d discovered Terri Writing Away in Cedar Key around the time I started Wintersong. I wrote her and began visiting her blog and we developed a friendship through our shared passion for writing and visiting back and forth through blogposts and comments. When I told her of our plan to visit Cedar Key, she invited us to meet her for lunch on Dock Street. We arranged to meet in front of the restaurant that bore the name of my old favorite, although it wasn’t the same place.

Hubby chats here with Terri and her husband Ray, who treated us to a delicious lunch. I ordered crabcakes, which I ordered several more times while in Florida and never seemed to get enough, but was too full afterwards to indulge in a hearts of palm salad. Instead Terri and Ray invited us to follow them to their home on the island where a delicious dessert baked by Ray, carrot cake if I remember correctly, was waiting for us along with a hot cup of coffee.

This is how Terri and Ray get around. Yes, it’s a golf cart and the island is small enough they don’t bother with the big car. We followed behind in our rental car, not nearly as much fun as a golf cart, but the charm of the island was beginning to come back to me after all.

Along the way, we stopped off for a few minutes to see Chez Soliel, the vacation rental home they recently opened. It was lovely and spacious, and if we ever have the chance we’d love to spend some extended time there, but it’s really too big for just two people. The trees with the Spanish Moss were another fond memory, as were the abundance of flowers. Always in the distance was the occasional glimpse of the gulf and sea air.

After animated conversation over dessert, we found we had a lot of things in common–particularly our disdain for the man in the white house at the time–and Terri gave me a tour of the house and garden and showed me her writing studio. It holds a big desk with another feature we have in common–a beautiful Tiffany lamp. I started collecting Tiffany lamps in Las Vegas and now have at least one in nearly every room in our house.

Here’s Terri in front of her studio, aptly named Pages and Paws. Not long before we met, Terri had just landed a contract from Kensington publishers to publish her debut novel. Needless to add, she was very excited. I ordered an advanced copy as soon as it became available through Amazon.com and just a couple of weeks ago, it finally arrived.

Here it is, and it’s called Spinning Forward as you can see on the cover. I have it opened here to where I am in reading it today. And I can tell you this. For a Yankee transplant from north of Boston, Terri has a done a marvelous job of establishing a definite sense of a southern locale. She has especially captured the unique and outspokenness yet quaint sweetness of the people of not only Cedar Key but much of the Florida. And oh yes. I have to add that not only is Cedar Key still a charming little fishing village, it has become even more today with its inclusion of  artists (and writers like Terri) as well, so that spinning forward as I have from my childhood  through the 1960’s to today, I not only have re-captured good memories of old times but now have even better memories.

I’m about half way into the book, but probably took less than 50 pages before I’d decided that Terri makes me want to live in a Cedar Key too, with quaint and loveable characters like those she captured in the book. I grow up only as a neighbor of Cedar Key but I can tell you that Terri knows those characters just as well as I once did. It’s nice to know that she loves the place as much as I did once.

Note: SPINNING FORWARD, by Terri Dulong is now available at bookstores, or may be ordered through Amazon.com. Those interested may contact Terri directly through her author website http://www.terridulong.com/.

Day 7 NaWriPoMo daily posts in November.

Normally I know I’m out of my league when mathematics is the featured topic of a lecture, but several weeks ago I had a slight paradigm shift in my idea of math being boring and incomprehensible after I attended a lecture by Westminster College (SLC) math professor Richard Wellman who spoke of how a group of mathematicians whose theoretical models of how things were supposed to work didn’t work out as planned and helped to lead to the current global economic crisis . In his explanation he discussed the mathematical models and what they do and don’t say about the real world. The upshot is that when I left the lecture room, I felt really good that I had actually enjoyed a presentation with mathematics in it. After 60 some years of math phobia, maybe I’d opened a tiny little path in my right-sided brain that would eventually lead to a break through before my assignment on this earth is over.

So I readily accepted when our daughter extended us a special invitation to attend a lecture at this year’s Utah Symposium in Science & Literature at the University. The speaker was Harvard Professor Barry Mazur, who has won numerous awards from peer organizations, and his presentation was on the language of explanation. As I understood it, his lecture would expound on how one’ s choice of medium–poetry, math, or of music–would shape both  imaginations and how they express themselves.

In tying the field of mathematics to language of expression through music and poetry, Dr. Mazur describes number theory as a field which produces (his words) “–without effort–innumerable problems which have a sweet, innocent air about them and tempting flowers; and yet . . . number theory swarms with bugs, waiting to bite the tempted flower lovers who, once bitten, are inspired to excesses of effort!” For math and language lovers, his 2003 book IMAGINING NUMBERS particularly the square root of minus fifteen expands on these thoughts.

I hung on, thinking any minute now my brain is going to be able to make the leap, the connection if you will, and I’ll begin to understand what this apparently brilliant man is saying that everyone else understands. Friends, after a full hour, I hadn’t understood a single thing. I think the audience needed to be a little better at understanding algebraic concepts in order to algebritize the process (to borrow a favorite phrase of his) of writing a poem. What I most enjoyed about the evening turned out to be the reception before which was catered by one of the better middle east restaurants, Mazza, where we sampled a spicy and rich variety of all kinds of vegetarian dishes followed with baklava and date and walnut sweets.

Is it any wonder then that my sleep last night was haunted by disturbing dreams. I’m no dream weaver or interpreter either for that matter but it was easy to see that most of the dreams I remember came from my insecurity about my place in the world. Dreams where I was on a bus in one foreign country after another, always seeking to figure things out, or find someone who could help me understand how to be where I needed to be.

There was one dream, however, that was pleasant in some weird way. I was staying at some sort of country estate and among other guests were Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes and their daughter Suri. I’ve never thought much about Suri except an occasional thought that she’s really beautiful and rich and probably way overindulged. Strange then, that she was an integral part of that dream and when she disappeared I seemed to be the only one on the estate who was worried. Katie was sleeping, and Tom was enjoying being the center of attention and couldn’t be bothered to speak with me and I was trying so hard to tell him Suri could be in danger.

I suppose it could be explained as another layer of insecurity. Or could be it that my dreams tell me this is just another example that I’m at a loss to understand things the way everyone else seems to. On the other hand, it might have been the spicy food.

Day 6 of NaBloPoMo challenge for daily November blogging.

Have you ever noticed how many choices for yogurt you have in the dairy section of the grocery store? I haven’t bothered to count, but there are fruit additives up the gazoo. I personally think they taste too sweet, and I feel like I’m not getting very much real fruit for my money anyhow, and how much trouble could it be to add your own fruit to plain yogurt anyhow. Except it’s really hard to find a plain yogurt unless you buy huge containers. For just the two of us, we prefer to buy smaller containers.

So sometime this summer, when we were yet again looking in vain for plain yogurt, Hubby and I decided we would start making our own as our SIL Frank does. Frank has a special yogurt machine and the yogurt he produces tastes much better than those commercial ones anyway. If Frank does it, on his busy schedule, then two old retired geezers should be able to make our own, too.

We decided to experiment and make our own without a special machine though. For one thing I have too many rarely used appliances in my own “kitchen appliance graveyard” as Bill Cosby called it on his family TV show in the 1980’s. For his part, Hubby had grown up in India where the women think nothing of making yogurt every day. Where do you go to learn specialty cooking? The Internet of course! That great recipe outlet that streams out around the world in little tubes according to Republican Senator Ted Stevens.

After a couple of less than perfect attempts, we found a method of perfection and simplicity requiring only things found on any given day in most kitchens. You can make it easily in as small a batch as you want. Come along as I showcase Hubby making a new batch yesterday.

Here’s all the equipment you’ll need. That’s a simple plastic thermos on the left and an immersible candy thermometer, the thermos inner seal and lid, 2 cups of whole milk although you could make as large an amount as the size of your thermos would determine. We use whole milk, 1% or 2% is fine too for a lower fat yogurt. The smaller measure cup (which holds 4 tablespoons) contains the “culture” brought to room temperature from our previous batch, or could come from a commercial yogurt as long as it contains “active” cultures. The amount is not critical, about 3 teaspoons but if you added a little more or less it will be okay. This is all you’ll need to produce your own plain yogurt.

Except a spoon (we use this wooden one) which will come in handy to stir the milk once it’s in the pot on the stove set at medium heat. The milk should be stirred often to keep it from scorching while you bring it to a boil. When it does (approximately 10 minutes) immediately remove from heat.  Set aside and let it cool in the pot to about 105 to 110 degrees F.  If you don’t have a thermometer, a good rule of thumb is that you should be  able to touch the bottom of the  pot with your bare finger for 10 seconds or so.

After the milk is cooled to 105 to 110°F (this part is critical), add the yogurt culture you’ve set aside and mix well, pour it all into the thermos (that you’ve remembered to preheat with hot water) and close lid tightly.  Let it sit for 6 to 8 hours on the counter (or even overnight is okay) and voila, you have your home made yogurt.

“Pour” the yogurt into a container of your choice. If everything went right, the yogurt coming out of the thermos will be a little thicker and sort of “plop” out in clumps instead of flowing like a liquid. Now put it in the refrigerator where it will continue to set up.  Here is what our yogurt Hubby made last night looked like this morning. Doesn’t it look yummy?

Now! In case that crummy counter (see photo above) makes you wonder about my housekeeping skills, I should explain that those are crumbs from the Pumpkin Bread I made last night to have with our coffee this morning. I’ll publish that recipe next Friday on the 13th. Be sure to check it out.

Note: A special thank you to Hubby, not just for making all our yogurt and taking over several times a week in the kitchen leaving me free to blog and sew and play electronic forty-thieve card games, but for co-writing this post today.

Day 5, NaBloPoMo: Post 2 since declaration of intent.

Remember Steve Austin? The six-million dollar man? In the TV storyline from the show of the 1974-78 series, Austin was an astronaut severely injured in a crash and the OSI (Office of Scientific Intelligence in the show) had him rebuilt in an operation that cost six-million dollars. His right arm, both legs and the left eye are replaced by bionic implants that enhanced his strength, speed and vision far above human norms,  he could run at speeds of 60 miles per hour, and his eye had a 20:1 zoom lens and infrared capabilities. Since they picked up the tab, naturally he used his enhanced abilities to work for the OSI as a secret agent.

Hubby and I attended a mind-blowing lecture at the University last night by Dr. Cynthia Furse, Professor of Electrical Engineering and Associate Vice President for Research at the University of Utah. Dr. Furse brought all of us in the the auditorium of SRO up to date on the newest technology from bioelectronics. What we learned is that–although Steve Austin was a reel man–folks, in today’s technological world it is now possible to make a real man into a real six-million dollar phenomenon.

Dr. Furse presented slides and video clips that showed us a contraption–a bionic uniform of sorts–that could be strapped on a man and enable him to lift enormous weights for an impossible length of time for an ordinary man and yet hardly feel the effects of his exertion afterwards. Limbs as good as or even better than the originals can be made for amputees. Broken hearts can literally be fixed. Optic nerves can be made to respond to electrical stimuli so that the blind can “see” again–or some for the first time. Paraplegics can be made to walk again. A burn victim’s own skin cells or DNA can be used to clone new skin, and a Cochlear implant can make a child hear who cannot or never has before. If we can think it, it probably can be done now.

Imagine if you suffer from any of the drastic conditions mentioned, these miracles and many more in Dr. Furse’s presentation represent only a drop in the bucket to what engineers may be able to produce with continued research in bioelectronics and bioengineering. Considering the strides already made, what else could be done with the next 20 years?

But, because this technology is available, should we all just fall in line and assume it will make us better? As a member of the audience pointed out, and what Dr. Furge not only agreed with but hoped everyone in the audience would take from the lecture was this: what good is all this knowledge if we haven’t developed the ethics or even a full understanding of the  implications this new technology will bring with it.  And how can technology make us better if it can’t help us maintain better relationships among ourselves? If it can’t help Muslims get along with Jews, Christians with Muslims, Democrats with Republicans, and so on, what good is it? There are so many questions with few answers.

Not everyone agrees that all this technology in the Bionic Age is a good thing. Opponents of the Cochlear implant, for instance, believe that a positive self-image for hearing impaired people may be better served by becoming more involved with the Deaf community. Many deaf individuals have written about their love of the community to which they belong and they would argue that being born unable to see or hear doesn’t mean they’re not normal, just different. Is different a bad thing? Saul Kessler wrote the following poem to explain how he feels about being deaf. It illustrates perfectly that we have a lot to think about in terms of how much and what we need to fix in the world.

They Say I’m Deaf

They say I’m deaf,
These folks who call me friend.
They do not comprehend.
They say I’m deaf.
And look on me as queer,
Because I cannot hear.
They say I’m deaf,
I, who hear all day
My throbbing heart at play,
The song the sunset sings,
The joy of pretty things.
The smiles that greet my eye,
Two lovers passing by,
A brook, a tree, a bird;
Who says I have not heard?
Aye, tho’ it must seem odd,
At night I oft hear God.
So many kinds, I get,
Of happy songs, and yet
They say I’m deaf

So, assuming you’re still with me, the question is whether a six-million dollar man is really better after all.

There’s a new challenge going around the blog circles I announced casually to Hubby this morning while we sitting in our respective chairs at our mac and pc, checking for new email (he worked all day long managing the local polling station yesterday so he was email deprived). What d’you mean? he said typing an email amazingly fast with his two-finger typing method.

It’s NaBloPoMo; means bloggers are challenged to write one post a day. The only response I heard was a grunt and the sounds of a keyboard clicking. Well? Should I try it?

Now we both know that I tried posting every week day as some blogger I read thought it was the reliable way to build a readership. I don’t remember how long I tried, but I can tell you it didn’t take me long to suffer major burnout. My idea about blogging, you see–at least in the beginning–was that it would challenge me to write daily and that I would become a better writer which I’ve always hoped to be. Initially I planned to make each post an essay. I spent hours at the keyboard. By the time I got one I was happy with–at least happy for long enough to publish it–it was necessary to begin thinking about what I would write about next for tomorrow. It was keeping me up nights!

One day I woke up figuratively if not literally since I wasn’t sleeping well. I realized I was working harder at blogging than almost anything I’d ever worked at (except tobacco and farm work when I was growing up). I hadn’t even worked that hard when I was writing for my classes at Ohio State. WORSE THAN THAT, I WASN’T GETTING PAID! Enough of that crap I decided and eventually I settled into a comfortable routine doing a post when the mood hit–which was usually about twice, sometimes thrice, per week unless I went for easy and put up a YouTube video. That left more time for domestics pursuits plus an electronic card game (or 2 or 3) fitted in as a reward now and then.

By this time he (Hubby) had moved on to his blogroll. I decided to try one more time. Well!!!? Do you think I should try it?

After little hesitation came back this retort. Nah! You can’t hack it.

Yeah, you’re probably right. So I turned off the computer without even checking the number of hits from yesterday and looked about to see what I should cross off first in my brain list of stuff to do! Dusting tends to be boring, however, so while I was dusting, I couldn’t help but continue the conversation I’d been having with Hubby inside my head.

Hubby’s last comment:  . . . can’t hack it.”
Me: Nut uh! I could so do it . . . if’n I really wanted to.
Hubby: You’d get too spazzed out.
Me: Would not!
Hubby: Would!
Me: Would not! Would not! Would not!
Hubby: Would! Would! Would!

Then the right and left sides of my brain decided to join in this evermore spirited conversation.

LS: So what would you write about if you tried to write a post every day?
RS: I could write about what I’m doing every day . . .
LS: Oh that oughta be interesting alright!
RS: Oh but lots of people do it . . . and do it very well. In fact I love reading what Mage in Postcards is up to every day, whether she manages to get all her exercises in, what’s the estate sale she’s gone to and what new cookbook find she’s made at one of those sales! and how she sneaks in those fudge brownies and key lime pie in spite of her vow to eat more healthy this year! Plus, I remember reading something about refinding your blogging voice in Studio Ruthe. Maybe posting daily will help me find my blogger voice!
LS: : Yeah? Well, dream on!

So! The upshot of these conversations no one hears except me, resulted in me making an executive decision. To try and rise to the occasion. If I can’t do it, I’ll try to do it most days. If I can’t do it that much, I’ll keep trying and post some days. It’ll be pretty hard to be anything less than a winner that way, right!?

After I dusted the living room I unwrapped the long vines of the ivy in the living room that were hanging over the half wall and down the stairwell and gave the plant a haircut. And I put all the cuttings into a big vase in the kitchen to get new starts for lots of new ivy plants–there should be one for every room plus whoever in the neighborhood who wants to adopt one. After that I decided to bottle the basil from Frank’s garden that I hung in the kitchen during the last few weeks to dry. It made the most pungent dried basil you can imagine–three or four times the aroma of the commercial one I already had. It should really flavor up this winter’s soups!

Whew! I’m already feeling the pressure! Whatever will I write tomorrow? ‘Cause it means I actually have to do something to write about besides playing forty-thieves on the pc, right?

Read it and weep. Or laugh. I would love to have any reader reactions to this piece that is an excerpt from the July 1943 issue of Transportation Magazine written for male supervisors as a guide to hiring for the work force during World War II, the “great” war. It had to have been a man who coined that phrase. I can’t imagine any woman referring to a war of any kind as “great.”

As you know, during that period in history, the draft and manpower shortage was taking all the men away from the farms and factories, leaving women behind to do what they’ve always done in times of need. To take over and keep things going. After the war, however, it was harder to keep the women down–having had that taste of freedom as they had, so it was the beginning of the women’s movement.

I couldn’t resist sharing this little gem sent me by a friend in Las Vegas in case it didn’t make the rounds your way yet. Thank goodness things aren’t quite this bad anymore–I think, I hope–but as far as attitudes go, things could still be better.

Eleven Tips on Getting More Efficiency Out of Women

1. Pick young married women. They usually have more of a sense of responsibility than their unmarried sisters, they’re less likely to be flirtatious, they need the work or they wouldn’t be doing it, they still have the pep and interest to work hard and to deal with the public efficiently.
2. When you have to use older women [emphasis mine], try to get ones who have worked outside the home at some time in their lives. Older women who have never contacted the public have a hard time adapting themselves and are inclined to be cantankerous and fussy. It’s always well to impress upon older women the importance of friendliness and courtesy. [Now that explains a lot for me!]
3. General experience indicates that “husky” girls–those who are just a little on the heavy side–are more even tempered and efficient than their underweight sisters. [Keep 'em fat and happy!]
4. Retain a physician to give each woman you hire a special physical examination–one covering female conditions. This step not only protects the property against the possibilities of lawsuit, but reveals whether the employee-to-be has any female weaknesses which would make her mentally or physically unfit for the job.
5. Stress at the outset the importance of time, the fact that a minute or two lost here and there makes serious inroads on schedules. Until this point is gotten across, service is likely to be slowed up.
6. Give the female employee a definite day-long schedule of duties so that they’ll keep busy without bothering the management for instructions every few minutes. Numerous properties say woman make excellent workers when they have their jobs cut out for them, but that they lack initiative in finding work themselves.
7. Whenever possible, let the inside employee change from one job to another at some time during the day. Women are inclined to be less nervous and happier with change.
8. Give every girl an adequate number of rest periods during the day. You have to make some allowances for feminine psychology. A girl has more confidence and is more efficient if she can keep her hair tidied, apply fresh lipstick and wash her hands several times a day.
9. Be tactful when issuing instructions or in making criticisms. Women are often sensitive; they can’t shrug off harsh words the way men do. Never ridicule a woman–it breaks her spirit and cuts off her efficiency.
10. Be reasonably considerate about using strong language around women. Even though a girl’s husband or father may swear vociferously, she’ll grow to dislike a place of business where she hears too much of this.
11. Get enough size variety in operator’s uniforms so that each girl can have a proper fit. This point can’t be stressed too much in keeping women happy.