Tag: #friends

Talking to the Animals

Talking to the Animals

I’m no Doctor Dolittle, but I do “Talk to the Animals” here at Rohan Farm, and do so on a pretty regular basis. Most mornings, we have conversations, although they tend to be a trifle one sided, at least in a verbal sense. Still, I think we have a pretty good understanding of each other.

It starts when I wake up in the morning. Carmen, our dog, will stir and I’ll ask her if she had a good night sleep. She doesn’t answer, and instead does a couple of “downward dog” yoga stretches while waking up and looking at me. Eventually, we are both awake and go downstairs and out the door.

At the barn, I greet our horses, Katy and Stella, with a good morning, and ask them if they had a restful night, and whether there were any visitors to the barn. They tend to just look at me, and the look says “Where were you? It’s time for our breakfast!” On cold mornings, when there’s some ice in their buckets, I’ll also ask if they were warm enough during the night. Of course they were, but it seems a friendly thing to ask. While getting their food, I keep a bit of chatter going about the beautiful sunrise outside the barn, or the new snow on the ground, and aren’t they going to be surprised when they are turned out. They respond by stomping their hooves, or scraping the bars on the stall doors with their teeth, wanting to know where the hell breakfast is. Eventually, I give it to them, and things quiet down, while they munch away.

Katie and Stella – “Where’s my breakfast!?”

Now, it’s time to feed our cats, Stan and Ollie, and I again greet them with a hello and ask how their night was. Lately, it’s been fairly cold, so we’ve allowed them to sleep in the heated tack room, rather than the barn itself. They purr and wrap around my legs, or rub up against Carmen as they wait for breakfast. I’ll ask them if they heard Momma Cat out in the barn last night. Momma is a cat whose owner moved away, and we have seemingly adopted. Cathy frequently sees her, but she is quite shy around Carmen and me and we rarely do. As I leave the barn, I call out a loud hello to Momma Cat, and noisily put some food in a bowl in the hay area for her. Of course, she is nowhere to be seen.

Carmen and I then return to the house for our own breakfasts. As we enter the mudroom, Carmen immediately sits in front of her dog bowl. She hasn’t barked, or said anything verbally, but she might as well have said “OK – you fed everyone else, now it’s my turn. And don’t even think about making your coffee before feeding me.”

Tail wagging, Carmen’s ready to eat…

After a couple cups of coffee and small breakfast, it’s time to go back to the barn and let everyone out.

The cats go first, and I remind them to come back at dinner time, if they want to sleep in the tack room. Otherwise, they are on their own. I tell Stan to watch out for our other neighbor’s un-neutered male cat that sometimes comes slinking around the barn looking for a handout. Stan and he have a history, so I figure a word of caution can’t hurt. I also remind Stan doing a walk-about for a week or more in winter is probably not a smart thing to do, but he ignores me whenever I tell him this.

Ollie and Stan after breakfast on a recent morning

Finally, it’s time to put the horses out and I take a few flakes of hay to the nearby paddock. While in the hay area, I note that Momma Cat has already eaten most of her food, and disappeared back into the hay. I say hello again, and call “Here kitty, kitty, kitty…” a few times, but get no response

As i put Katy’s grazing muzzle on, I tell her I’m sorry she has to wear it, however, it’s for her own good, and as a pony, we don’t want her developing health issues from overeating. After taking her out, I return for Stella, who has waited patiently. Leading her to the paddock, I usually just tell her to enjoy the day, and remind her not to pick on Katy.

Katie (in the grazing muzzle) and Stella

With that, it’s back to the house, and the rest of my day.

The thing is, I think Dr Dolittle had it slightly wrong when he said “Oh, if I could talk to the animals, just imagine it …” Talking “to” the Animals is easy. I mean, I do it every morning. It’s talking “with” the animals that is harder. While “Talking to” and “Talking with” are often used interchangeably, they aren’t quite the same, are they? “Talking with” implies a conversation between two or more. “Talking to” can imply a one way, or one sided conversation, or perhaps even a lecture.

I guess it’s not that different from people in that regard. Talking to people is easy. Talking with people is what’s hard, and these days, with the fences everyone puts up, getting harder. We all know people that are great talking to, or at you, but maybe aren’t so good at the listening and understanding part.

Upon further consideration, I think it is easier to communicate with the animals. I may do most of the verbal talking, but the interchange and understanding that goes back and forth is pretty good, at least in comparison to some people I know.

Addendum:

⁃ While I do the morning feeding at the barn, I would be remiss if I didn’t mention Cathy does 90% of the animal care on the farm. Afternoon feedings, stall cleanings, horse healthcare and a myriad of other horse and animal maintenance chores are all under Cath’s purview. While I can’t say whether she talks more or less than I do with them, her understanding of their wants and needs is infinitely greater than mine.

⁃ Carmen is the smartest dog we’ve ever had and a GREAT communicator. Here’s a blog she wrote about a year ago: My name is Carmen. I’m about 44 years old now, and in my prime. Some guy named Shakespeare once said every “dog will have his day.” I think every day is my day, and I […] Continue at: https://mnhallblog.wordpress.com/2021/04/07/whosagooddog-carmen/

Grad School, and Learning to Cook

Grad School, and Learning to Cook

Embarrassment is what started it. Well, embarrassment, a class in Stochastic Communications and Trout Almandine. In 1984, I started learning how to cook, largely after being embarrassed at a friend’s house on a Sunday afternoon.

Last week, I published a blog about cooking a German dish, Erbseneintopf (Split Pea Soup) in 1982, and I received notes from several friends asking if that’s when I started learning to cook. The answer was no, that didn’t really come till later.

It’s true Erbseneintopf was the first recipe I collected, but as to cooking, my skills were limited. Yea, I could do steaks, brats, and burgers on the grill, but not much else. Cathy did the vast majority of cooking for us, and that (from my view point) seemed to work out fine.

Things changed in 1984.

The Army, in it’s infinite wisdom, sent me to Grad School to pursue a master’s degree in Electrical Engineering. I was in the Army Signal Corps and they were looking for engineers to help with the new field of Computer Networks. We all take the Internet and computer networks for granted now, but back then, it was brand new, except for some research networks like The Arpanet, a DoD funded network.

Captain Hall, The Future “Cook”. The Photo was Taken During my Time at Grad School.

As I started my graduate program, something quickly became obvious. My math skills were rusty and needed work. I’d studied calculus, differential equations, linear equations, and probability and statistics at West Point, but that was several years before and I’d forgotten most of it.

In the fall of 1984, I was required to take a class in Stochastic Communications – it was a theory class about how communication systems act in the presence of noise, and was very math heavy. A friend of mine, Gerry, was also taking the class and we often studied together to understand the math.

One Sunday afternoon, Gerry was at my house and we were working through some tough problems. At some point, I said, “Hey, feel like some dinner? How about if I order us a pizza?” Gerry agreed, and I ordered a pizza from the Pizza Hut just down the road. When they delivered the pie, we took a break and had a beer with our dinner. Eventually, we resumed our studies, and then quit an hour or two later.

Nothing Says Fine Dining Like a Pizza from Pizza Hut…

A couple of weeks later on another Sunday afternoon, we were studying at Gerry’s apartment. Eventually, we were getting hungry and Gerry said “How about a break for dinner?”, to which I readily agreed. I expected him to pick up the phone. Instead he said, “Come on, let’s go to the kitchen.”

We arrived in the kitchen and after opening a bottle of wine and pouring two glasses, he proceeded to the fridge where he pulled out some trout filets and asparagus. He then brought out some almonds, garlic, and God only knows what else from his cabinets. What? Was he actually going to cook a dinner?

Gerry spent the next half hour or so preparing the meal, while we continued drinking and talking. He toasted the almonds, sautéed some garlic and eventually pan fried the trout, while sautéing the asparagus in another pan. Half an hour later, it all came together on our two plates with the almonds scattered over the trout and the asparagus served on the side.

Trout Almandine with Asparagus on the Side – a Treat from my Friend, Gerry.

Holy Cow! A real meal, and a great one. I believe I was in a bit of shock. Thinking back to the Pizza Hut pizza I’d served two weeks before, I was also a bit embarrassed.

On the way home, I thought to myself, “What the hell is wrong with this picture? A bachelor comes to a married guy’s house and has delivery pizza from a chain restaurant for dinner, while the married guy goes to the bachelor’s house and has a gourmet meal!?!?” Right then and there, I decided I needed to learn how to cook.

And so, my cooking journey began. Cathy still did most of the cooking, but I started cooking some as well, especially on weekends. I’d find different recipes to try and slowly expanded my repertoire. I also started collecting cookbooks, some basic, some focused on specific cuisines. I went through bread and muffin phases, German and French phases, Vegetarian, Stir Fry’s, and eventually Indian curries, among other recipes.

Just a Few of the Couple Dozen Cookbooks I Now Own

I found I enjoyed cooking, and I started to cook decently, but man, was I a messy cook. I knew nothing about “Mise en place” (prepping things ahead of time), or cleaning as you go. While I could turn out a great meal, the kitchen was a disaster. Cathy’s mom said something to Cath about it one time, and Cathy basically told her to be quiet, I was at least cooking some of the meals now. 😉

Eventually I retired from work around 2015, and and over time, started cooking my share of our meals. I also learned about Mise en place and cleaning the kitchen as I cooked. It only took me about 30 years to learn those two basic lessons. Better late than never, I guess.

So, that’s my story. Who knows, If I hadn’t been rusty in math and in need of help, maybe none of this would have happened. You don’t always know what will send you down a different pathway in life. I’m glad I discovered this one.

Addendum:

⁃ Strangely, there is no Trout Almandine recipe in my collection of recipes. I never asked Gerry for it at the time. If I’m making it now, I use a variation of a recipe I found online. C’est la vie…

– Gerry went on to get his PhD in Electrical Engineering – he was a smart guy about many things. Unfortunately, over the years, we lost touch with each other.

Erbseneintopf

Erbseneintopf

The oldest recipe in my recipe collection is for Erbseneintopf – a German Split Pea Soup. It came from The Stars and Stripes newspaper in Germany in ‘82 or ‘83, and is now a bit tattered. The first time I tasted the soup in a Gasthaus, I thought I’d died and gone to heaven. Getting the recipe was a bonus.

Erbseneintopf. The word and the soup are both a mouthful. Erbseneintopf literally translates to “Pea One-Pot”, and is really closer to a stew. Made properly, it is a thick soup with little chunks of sausage or ham hock in it. I’m not talking the puny American ham hocks, but the big German kind – meaty and smoky. The meat gives the stew a wonderful flavor. It’s a simple, hearty meal.

I believe the first time I had the dish was in a little village near Stuttgart, although I can’t remember the name of the town, or the Gasthaus, for the life of me. At the time, we often went for a walk in the woods on a Sunday afternoon, as many Germans did, and then would stop at a nearby Gasthaus for a late lunch, and a beer or two. We’d usually have some sort of simple meal – a bratwurst, or goulash soup, or some charcuterie and cheese. On one of those trips, it started snowing. Eventually we made it back to the village and the Gasthaus, where Erbseneintopf was on the menu, and despite the green color, I gave it a try. It was delicious. It became one of those dishes that stayed in my mind and I started looking for it on the menu anytime we went to a new Gasthaus – especially in winter.

Cathy, Top and I, probably in ‘82, outside a Gasthaus as it was snowing one Sunday

There were a few other dishes that stuck in my brain back then, and I would stalk them for a while – eating the dish anytime I saw it on a new place’s menu. One of those was Cordon Bleu. I spent a couple of years looking for the perfect Cordon Bleu during our travels across Germany, France and Northern Italy, and dragged visiting friends with me on my quest. Another dish was Käsespätzle, basically a German adult version of Mac ‘n Cheese, with homemade noodles, onions and cheese – It was total comfort food and a bazillion calories.

Cordon Bleu, käsespätzle, schnitzel, wurst, certain kinds of steak, pommes frites (french fries) and a host of other dishes all became a part of our life. We loved German food, but never tried cooking it at home. I’m not sure why. Maybe we knew we couldn’t match what we were eating in the Gasthauses.

Then one day, the world changed. Around 1982, our local military newspaper, The Stars and Stripes*, started a monthly feature with recipes for different German dishes. Some were simple, some more complicated. I’d read the recipes, but didn’t really think much about them, and then one day, they published several soup recipes – Gulaschsuppe, Linseneintopf (Lentil Soup), Tomatencremesuppe (Tomato Soup), and at the bottom of the page – a recipe for Erbseneintopf! I promptly cut the recipe out of the paper.

A little faded, and tattered, but the recipe works just fine.

This was most excellent. I spoke with a German friend about the recipe and she thought it looked authentic. Her one suggestion was to swap out the boiled ham called for in the recipe and replace it with chopped up ham hock, or some smoky local German sausage. It was a good suggestion.

A week or two later, we made the dish for the first time and lightning struck. We couldn’t believe how much it tasted like the restaurant version. The ham hocks provided the smokiness, while the “Melbutter” (see recipe – a mixture of flour and butter) thickened the soup. This baby was a keeper. At the time it was actually one of the very few dishes I cooked, or could cook. Yea, I did steaks, burgers and brats on the grill, but cooking something in the kitchen? I was out of my league there. This soup was probably just about it.

A bowl of Erbseneintopf. Still delicious, after all these years.

Erbseneintopf has remained a part of my winter repertoire ever since. I’ve only made one change since cooking it that first time. Here in the States, it’s sometimes hard to find good German sausage, or ham hocks with a bit more meat on them. As a result, I often substitute a smoked turkey leg for the ham hocks. It gets the job done.

Looking for a good winter soup on a cold, snowy day? Erbseneintopf might be just what you need. It’s peasant food at it’s best. As with many soups and stews, it’s even better on the second day.

Addendum:

⁃ * The Stars and Stripes newspaper was first published during the Civil war. Later, it was delivered to US forces in France during WWI, and became an overseas fixture during WWII. It continued through Korea and Vietnam, and is still published at overseas military locations to this day, although there were discussions during the Trump presidency of cancelling it (it wasn’t). It operates from inside DoD, but is editorially separate and independent from it. The newspaper has been published continuously in Europe since 1942.

⁃ I also struck pay dirt a month or two later when The Stars and Stripes published recipes for Spätzle and Käsespätzle, and our friends Jim and Res bought us a Spätzlemaker for Christmas. The Spätzlemaker is 40 years old now, and in great shape. We still use it a couple times of year.

⁃ My friend Tim Stouffer reminds me occasionally about my Cordon Bleu quest. He visited Cath and I several times throughout the ‘80s. On at least a couple of those visits, I know I inflicted my obsession with Cordon Bleu on him.

Planes, Buses and Automobiles

Planes, Buses and Automobiles

A Day in the Life. (Or, How I spent Fourteen Hours I Will Never Get Back.)

Ever think about the things you do, in order to do the things you want to do? After a wonderful vacation in California over New Years, payback, in the form of a long as hell travel day, happened on the return trip to DC. I freely admit this might be a boring blog, but something compelled me to write it.

The day started around 5:30AM with a wake up alarm. I didn’t fall out of bed, or drag a comb across my head, but I did find my way downstairs and drink a cup (of coffee). I finished packing and then loaded the luggage into Bonnie’s car. I grabbed my day bag and jacket, and climbed in the backseat, leaving the front seat for Cath. By 6:15AM, we were on the road.

Anderson Valley looks a bit different when it’s still pitch black. You don’t see the vineyards, wineries or scenic hills. Instead, all of our eyes were glued to the road ahead, following the twists and turns. There was also a slight fog reducing visibility. The hilly, winding trip out of the Valley to Highway 101 usually takes 45 minutes, but with the darkness and fog, it was 7:15 before we made the highway.

Bonnie had a 9:00AM appointment in Marin County that morning, so she was happy we were along, allowing her to take the HOV lane. In any case, she was a good driver, or we were lucky and traffic was light, or both. We made the Larkspur bus terminal for the Marin AirPorter about 8:35. Hugs and “I love you”s all around, and then Bonnie departed for her appointment. We had the joy of sitting, masked, in a small terminal by ourselves for 40 minutes. In fact, we would be masked for most of the next ten hours.

Masks, masks, everywhere a mask

The AirPorter bus runs directly from Marin County to the San Francisco Airport (SFO). At 9:15AM the bus arrived right on time, and at 9:20 we pulled out. The bus was about 1/3 full, and everyone was masked (required). Traffic remained relatively light, and I’ll be d@mned, we pulled into the United Terminal at SFO right on schedule at 10:30AM. Outside the bus, we took our masks off briefly while collecting our luggage. Then, masks back on, we entered the terminal.

The Marin AirPorter is actually a good way to travel

With Covid going on, United recommends people arrive three hours early at the airport, due to security concerns, longer check in times, and general complications with masking and so on. I figured two hours was enough time, but you never know. Arriving at 10:30, there were two hours and forty five minutes till our flight. Plenty of time. Almost tooooo much time.

Although we already had our electronic boarding passes, we still needed to check one bag. Baggage “self check” was something of a cluster, but 15 minutes later, the bag was gone and we were walking to security.

At security, no one was in line! The checking of tickets and IDs went quickly, but there was a back-up at the final Security screening point. Only one line was open, and it appeared either the gear was malfunctioning, or a new crew was working the line. We just stood in place for several minutes, with no one advancing. Eventually, there was some movement, we were X-rayed, and finally on our way to the gate around 11:15AM. We hadn’t eaten anything yet, and stopped at the first restaurant we came to.

Miraculously, two seats were open at the bar and we grabbed them. A plexiglass divider separated us from the kitchen crew and waitstaff, along with little plexiglass dividers for every couple of barstools. The waitress slid us menus under the plexiglass, we removed our masks and took a look. It was the airport after all, so nothing was cheap, and you knew it wasn’t going to be great. Still, at $17.25 the Yankee Breakfast (bacon and eggs, hash browns, and toast) was a better deal than the bagel and lox at $19.50, so we both became Yankees for the morning. And since it was the last day of vacation, what the hell, we ordered Bloody Marys as well. At $12.50 each, they were practically a bargain. The Bloodies tasted pretty good, and the breakfast itself wasn’t half bad – for an airport, it was actually pretty good. We contemplated a second Bloody Mary, vetoed the idea, and asked for the check. $66, plus $15 tip later, we remasked, and resumed our walk to the gate.

A brief (and expensive) stop at the airport restaurant

It was now about 12:30PM. Fifteen minutes later, they started boarding the plane. For some unknown reason, we had a small bit of luck and had been moved from boarding group 4 to boarding group 2. We boarded early, and settled in for the flight to DC.

Waiting for takeoff…

The plane took off only about fifteen minutes late and the pilot was pretty confident we would make the time up somewhere over the Midwest. I stayed masked for the entire flight, except when sipping on a club soda. Everyone else on the plane stayed masked as well, and no crazies were yelling at the flight attendants about their rights. I did some reading, some writing, but no ‘rithmetic, and then watched Matt Damon in “Stillwater” (which I recommend, if you haven’t seen it). A bit more writing, and we were finally descending. It turns out the pilot was right, and we landed about 8:45PM, 15 minutes early. Amazing!

Let’s all crowd together to get off the plane!

We walked to baggage claim, where a large, crowded mob was waiting for their luggage. All were masked, but there was zero distancing. One guy actually knocked me out of the way, with no “excuse me” or any other words, to retrieve his bag. Then it turned out it wasn’t his bag, and he knocked a couple more people out of the way putting the bag back on the conveyer belt. The serenity prayer* briefly flashed through my brain. Eventually, our bags arrived. We gathered them up, and proceeded to Section A of Parking Garage 1 and our Subaru. Once outside, and in the garage, masks came off.

The drive home was pretty easy, even though a raging snow storm occurred the day before. Major highways were clear, but the local roads, although plowed, still had some snow and slickness to them. We arrived at the Farm at about 10:40PM, approximately fourteen hours after we woke up in Philo that morning. Carmen, our dog, greeted us with a wagging tail, and little yelps of pleasure. We stayed up another hour to relax a bit, and finally went to bed around midnight.

Here’s the thing. It was a looooong day, but it wasn’t a bad day. That is, no bad things happened. The bus arrived on time and didn’t break down on the way to the airport. Our flight wasn’t one of the 20,000 flights that have been cancelled since Christmas Eve. Since we were on a direct flight, we didn’t miss some connection at O’Hare airport in Chicago due to weather. Our flight arrived arrived on Tuesday, January 4th, the day after some people were trapped in their cars for over 26 hours in the DC area, due to a snowstorm. Despite Omicron racing around America, we didn’t catch Covid.

No, it wasn’t a bad day. Still, it was fourteen hours, approximately ten of them masked, we’ll never get back. The trip to California at the start of vacation was of similar duration. It too happened flawlessly. So the price of a wonderful ten day vacation in California? In addition to the dollar cost for the plane and bus tickets, two of those ten days were consumed entirely by travel. In the big scheme of things, a pretty cheap price to see loved ones.

Addendum:

– Yes, Planes, Buses and Automobiles is a play on the John Candy/Steve Martin movie “Planes, Trains and Automobiles”.

– And yes, the opening title, “A Day in the Life” and the line “I didn’t fall out of bed, or drag a comb across my head, but I did find my way downstairs and drink a cup” were inspired by the Beatles song, “A Day in the Life”.

* The Serenity Prayer is a prayer written by theologian Reinhold Niebuhr. It is usually quoted as: “God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and wisdom to know the difference.”

The Tribe – Together Again

The Tribe – Together Again

It’s good to keep memories alive, and laugh and cry for those we have lost. It’s also good to remember that life is for the living – to try and savor each and every day, and the time we have with those we love.

Before New Year’s Eve 2021, the last time we were all together was almost three years ago at the 2019 Anderson Valley (California) Pinot Festival. The difference was there were six of us then, and only four of us now. Don passed away in October of 2019, and Kim in August of 2021. I like to think Kim and Don were with us in spirit this year. We certainly ate and drank enough to cover them. 😉

Don and Kim at the 2019 Anderson Valley Pinot Festival

Cathy’s sister Bonnie married Don in ‘96 and the four of us were great friends from then on. They introduced us to their friends Kim and John, perhaps ten or fifteen years ago. Over the ensuing years, we saw Kim and John just about every time we visited California. Inevitably they would spend a couple of days at Bonnie and Don’s when we were in town. Often it was for either the annual Anderson Valley Pinot Festival, or perhaps the winter white wine Alsace Festival, but there were also a couple of Christmases or New Year’s Eves in the mix.

In 2018, the Californians all came to Virginia for a vacation over New Years and we again enjoyed fun times. It’s always wonderful when you find people you get along with in multiple locations and over time – you realize you are a part of the same tribe. At the time, we talked about the six of us linking up at Kim and John’s vacation place in Hawaii, “sometime in the future.”

New Year’s Eve Menu at Rohan Farm in 2018

The following May, we were all together again at Bonnie and Don’s for the 2019 Pinot Festival. Kim was dealing with cancer, but it didn’t slow her, or us, down. At the time, we of course didn’t realize it was the last time all six of us would be together.

Pinot Festival 2019! From the left – Don, John, Kim, Cathy and Bonnie.

Don passed away five months after that Pinot Festival and Kim a little over two years later in August of ‘21. Covid provided an overlay for all of that time. We had reservations for Pinot Festival in May of ‘20 and ‘21, but it was cancelled both years due to Covid.

Time Passed.

We came to California this year for Bonnie’s birthday and to celebrate New Year’s Eve, and were delighted to find out that John would join us for both of those events.

We arrived first, and John drove up from Santa Cruz a couple of days later. The time passed in a whirlwind of fun, food, wine, poker games, walks and talks. We of course remembered and talked about Don and Kim throughout our time together. For John, it had only been 4 months or so since Kim passed away – they were married for 53 years. Bonnie and Don had 23 years together. As she noted, it’s not easy, and everything takes time. On New Year’s Eve, we toasted Kim with one of her favorite wines. On New Year’s Day, we went to Point Arena for a hike and toasted Don with beers and some tasty pizza.

Good Times Celebrating Bonnie’s Birthday on Dec 29th in Healdsburg, and later on New Year’s Day at Point Arena

We also spoke about many other things and didn’t forget to enjoy life and the time we were having together. John invited Cathy and I to Hawaii again. There was laughter and joking, smiles and stories. We kept old memories alive, while also making new ones. It was good to be with the tribe again. We consumed our fair share of food and al’ahol over the five days we spent together.

John eventually left for the drive back to Santa Cruz. There were hugs all around and promises to see each other sooner rather than later. John made sure to invite us to Hawaii again and we readily agreed to give serious consideration for a trip there.

It’s good to keep memories alive, and laugh and cry for those we have lost. It’s also good to remember that life is for the living – to try and savor each and every day, and the time we have with those we love. As the days fly by, I want to race with the wind and also stop and smell the roses. Can you do both? I want to keep trying.

—-

Ecclesiastes 5:18-20 – Even so, I have noticed one thing that is good. It is good for people to eat well, drink a good glass of wine and enjoy their work – whatever they do under the sun – for however long God lets them live. To enjoy your work and accept your life, that is indeed a gift from God. People who do this rarely look with sorrow on the past, for God has given them reason for joy.

Punk Turns Sixty

Punk Turns Sixty

Punk turns sixty this week. Yep, that’s correct. Punk, also known as Bonnie, Bon, Bonswa, Lana’s mom, Don’s wife, and one half of ‘The Sisters of no Mercy’ turns sixty this week. For Cathy and I, she is the youngest of all of our sisters and we are happy to finally welcome her to middle age – ;-). Come on in Bonnie, the water is fine…

Truth be told, I’ve known Bonnie for most of my life, and hers. When Cathy and I started dating in ‘72, Bonnie was ten years old, and known in their family as “Punk”. I don’t think anyone has called her that in a long time.

Bonnie, around the time we first met

When we married in ‘78, Bonnie was all of sixteen and at the wedding, held her own with the newly commissioned officers in attendance, and all of our long time friends. In ‘83, when we returned after almost five years in Germany, she was of legal age – twenty-one, living near Washington DC and was married. That’s when I remember our relationship starting to change. She was no longer just Cath’s punk sister – she had become an adult in her own right. It was really the start of an adult friendship between us, something I’ve treasured ever since.

Bonnie at our wedding in ‘78, with my classmate Tom Guthrie

In our second tour of Germany, Bonnie enjoyed Multiple trips to Europe and even a Christmas. She was present and an integral participant at the initial Hare-of-the-Dog New Year’s Day party. When we returned to the States in ‘89, Bonnie was still in her twenties. Two years later, we attended the combined party for her thirtieth birthday and her graduation from the University of Maryland. That was a fun night – I seem to remember a bottle of Dom Perignon at some point.

Never one to let the grass grow under her feet, Bonnie moved to California a year or two later. There, she really launched her marketing career, her firm, B3 Communications, was established and she met the love of her life, Don. For the next almost twenty five years, the four of us were the best of friends. We named ourselves the 4-H club and had “meetings” on the East Coast, West Coast, and places in between. Those good times still bring a smile to my face.

Good times with the 4H Club

In 2003, Cathy and I celebrated our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary with a large party, which Bonnie and Don attended. During the evening’s festivities, Bonnie disappeared for a bit. When she reappeared later to make a speech congratulating us, she was wearing her Bridesmaid’s dress, and carrying her parasol from our wedding twenty-five years before. At the age of forty-two, she was happy to inform anyone who would listen that, “Yes, the dress still fits; I didn’t have to alter it!” 😉

Yes, the dress still fit, 25 years later.

Of course Lana joined Bonnie and Don along the way in 2005 and we changed from the 4-H Club to the 5-H Club.

Bonnie and Lana

I now chuckle slightly at the fact that as Bonnie turns sixty, Lana is sixteen – the same age Bonnie was when Cathy and I married. How is it even possible? Seriously, how is that even possible? Where did the time go?

So, yea, Punk turns sixty this week. We look forward to celebrating the big day with her out in California. Good food, great wine, loving family and friends – It’s going to be wonderful.

Happy Birthday Punk!

Happy Birthday Punk! I love you as if you are one of my own sisters, and also one of my best friends. On the last day of your 59th year, I want to welcome you to the start of your seventh decade – jump on in, the water is just fine.

Addendum:

Thanks to Lana Harris for the use of the picture of Bonnie and their Dog, Ruby for the cover photo.

Thanks to Paula Johnson Hamley for the picture of Bonnie in the 5th Grade, around the time we met. I clipped the picture to just get Bonnie, but the whole picture (below) is too cute to pass up. They had just been selected as the 5th Grade Students of the Month in Mr. Herman’s class at Shabbona Grade School in Ottawa Illinois.

Bonnie Snow and Paula Johnson Hamley in 5th Grade

Christmas is Coming

Christmas is Coming

It’s funny what sparks a memory. For me, the Christmas song Up on the Housetop, with it’s chorus of “Ho ho ho, who wouldn’t go, Up on the housetop, click, click, click, down through the chimney with good Saint Nick…”, instantly floods me with holiday memories from my youth. I fondly remember McKinley Grade School in Ottawa, and our Principal, Mr Powell.

‘Tis the season. Don’t we all really remember the Christmases from our childhood? I know I do. The Christmases at McKinley, on the southside of Ottawa, Illinois were special. We ALL remember them.

McKinley was originally a small two story wooden school house. Eventually, in the late fifties, it was replaced with a large, one story brick building. The new school included an indoor gymnasium, with a small elevated stage on one side. Both would figure prominently in the school’s Christmas celebrations.

McKinley School Teachers for 1959/60. Mr Powell is second from the right in the second row. The photo is probably from about two years after the new school building opened.

Our excitement started sometime in early December. Christmas was approaching, which of course meant an upcoming break, and if we were lucky, the chance to go sledding, or maybe skating on the pond at Varland’s pasture. Almost as exciting was the Christmas Show the school presented, just before the break. The teachers told us about the upcoming show, and each class was assigned a song to sing. We stared practicing on a daily basis.

A large evergreen tree eventually arrived at the school and was placed prominently on one side of the gym. Of course, it needed decorating. Where did the ornaments come from? They were handmade by the students. Yes, there were the obligatory construction paper chains from the younger classes, but another source of ornaments proved a favorite memory for many. Milk, in individual glass bottles was delivered to school each day. Those bottles had blue or silver foil caps. We collected the caps and then made stars, ornaments, or strings of ornaments from them. Oh how they shined and sparkled in the reflected light on the tree.

Foil milk bottle caps similar to these made perfect tree ornaments

The excitement grew, and a few days before our break, there were gift exchanges in each of the classrooms. The gifts weren’t big of course, but it was still fun and increased our anticipation.

As the date of the show approached, we kids practiced our songs. The week of the show, the entire school gathered in the gym a few times to practice, and also to sing “songs of the season” together. Those daytime sessions were great fun. All of the kids marched by class to the gymnasium, and then we’d sit on the floor facing the stage. Everyone was in a giddy mood with much laughter, yelling and barely contained excitement. Each class practiced their songs, but in between, Mr. Powell would lead the entire school in Christmas and Holiday songs. He stood in front of us near the tree, wearing a holiday bow tie. I think he was as excited as we were.

When leading the songs, he also acted some of them out. One example several friends remember was singing the song Up on the Housetop*. As the chorus was sung, Mr. Powell would stick his belly out and while placing both hands over his stomach, sing in his deep baritone “Ho ho ho, who wouldn’t go, ho ho ho, who wouldn’t go…”. When the next line “Up on the housetop, click, click, click, Down through the chimney with good Saint Nick” was sung, he clicked his fingers three times instead of actually singing “click, click, click.” Of course, all of us kids quickly caught on, and did the same thing – imagine a couple hundred kids all clicking in time with the chorus, and you get the picture.

The songs we sang at the time included both religious and secular Christmas songs. One student who is Jewish, remembered feeling special because we would inevitably sing one or two Hannukah songs. It was a simpler time.

Eventually, it was time to return to our classrooms, but the singing wasn’t quite over. Mr. Powell would start us singing an old English folk song Christmas is Coming, with the opening line “Christmas is coming, the geese are getting fat…” The song is meant to be sung as a round, which is exactly what we did. I believe we were divided into thirds, with each group starting one line after the previous group started. Once we had sung “around” a couple of times, the classes were dismissed, one grade at a time, with each class singing the song all the way back to their classroom.

For the younger kids, there was often a bit of confusion on the lyrics. Instead of “…if you haven’t got a ha’penny, God bless you…”, they heard “if you haven’t got a hay penny God Bless a shoe…” What was a Hay Penny? Why were we blessing shoes? It could all be a bit confusing, but the fun and good spirits made up for it.

Finally it was the big day of the Christmas Show. It was also the day before Christmas break started. Excitement was at a fevered pitch.

The evening program was a bit more formal than our daytime singalongs. It wasn’t quite the Christmas Show from the movie Love Actually – McKinley School was a bit more primitive, but we did have a stage, and the adults sat on folding chairs set up on the gym floor itself. As kids, we dressed in our “good clothes” for the big night. Our parents brought treats and cookies for the classrooms.

While the adults found their seats in the gymnasium, we kids walked to our classrooms, waiting for our turn to sing. My friend Joy remembers sitting at her desk eating cookies and coloring (after smelling) the newly mimeographed Christmas pictures. For the younger grades, there were also games that some of the parents (moms) helped with in the classrooms. Everyone wanted to make sure we kids were entertained, focused and staying out of trouble.

Finally the show started, with the Kindergarten classes singing first. My friend Lynn remembers “The big curtain opening was our cue to start singing. It was quite intimidating to see all the people “out there” sitting on folding chairs looking at us. We sang Away in a Manger and the little stage seemed huge.”

One of the classes always sang Oh Christmas Tree, Oh Christmas Tree in German (Oh Tannenbaum, Oh Tannenbaum…). How cool was that? Singing a Christmas song from another country!

The show eventually ended and parents picked up their children from the classrooms. Cookies were finished, and newly colored Christmas pictures served as visual reminders of the fun that night. During the short drive home, we were still animated. I suppose the stimulation from doing the show, along with the sugar rush of the cookies combined and kept us amped up for awhile.

As with all things, time passed and the world changed – not for better or worse, but changed none-the-less. Mr Powell retired. The huge tree was replaced with two smaller artificial trees for fire safety. Eventually, the festivities changed from a secular Christmas celebration to a Holiday celebration, which was the right thing to do.

One teacher later reminisced “We teachers loved the singing almost more than you kids! We continued the tradition after Mr. Powell retired, but it was never quite the same.”

I’ve been gone from Ottawa for many years now, and to be honest, I don’t know if they have the Holiday celebration in the gym anymore. What I do know is I have wonderful memories from my youth that I wouldn’t trade for anything.

I’ll be home for Christmas, if only in my dreams… Christmas is coming, the geese are getting fat, Please put a penny in the old man’s hat…

Addendum:

  • There is some question/controversy among my friends about whether the title of the song is Up on the Housetop or Up on the Rooftop. Folk seemingly remember singing it both ways. For what it’s worth, the song is referenced in Wikipedia as Up on Housetop. It was written in 1864 and is the second-oldest secular Christmas song after Jingle Bells, which was written in 1857.
  • I had some memories from those special times at McKinley, but of course forgot lots too, until reminded by others about some of the activities. My thanks to the many who contributed memories to this blog, including: students Lisa Palmer Braley, Brenda Brown, Karen Williams Miller, Robert Cavanaugh, Linda Baker, Dorey Renee, Glenda Boettcher, Laurie Sargent Kinken, Mary Cunningham Heider, Kelly Nagle Shanley, Barbara Charlier Houston, LeeAnn Slack Niemann, Lynne Galley Robinson, Becky Ann, Roberta Sherman Schwandner. Jan Butler, Robert Cross, Linda Gerding Bergman, Joy Starjak Algate, Jessica Burress, Roberta Gourley, Tanya McCambridge, Tim Stouffer, and Howard Johnson, along with teachers Charlean Grobe and Sylvia Eichelkraut.
  • Thanks to Mrs Charlean Grobe for the photo of the McKinley School Teachers in 59-60! Charlean was my Kindergarten Teacher, one year later! She is second from the left in the second row in the picture.

Life and the Ritual of Risotto

Life and the Ritual of Risotto

I made Risotto last week. Due to some changes in diet, it was the first time in over a year and it was wonderful. Risotto isn’t hard to make, and it doesn’t take long, but it does require patience and attention. You can’t rush risotto, and to me, that is why making it is both relaxing and a bit zen like.

I’ve been making risotto for years, and have several different recipes. It was a staple part of our dinner rotation. And then about a year ago, I had a couple of blood tests that caused some concern. After engaging in bilateral discussions with my doctor* (… 😉 … ) , I made significant diet changes, and drastically reduced dairy and carbs. Some things were easy, like changing from regular milk to oat milk. Unfortunately, cheese was practically it’s own food group for me, so that required a fair amount of mental adjustment. Pasta, potatoes, white rice, and bread? All eliminated, or severely reduced. I went cold turkey, and just did it. The good news was that after three months, the test results were back to normal, and six months later, they remained normal. As a side benefit, I lost about fifteen pounds.

Over the past six months, we’ve reintroduced small amounts of dairy and carbs into our diet. They’ve become “special” as opposed to every day, and it’s worked out fine. It turns out, sometimes, you can teach an old dog new tricks.

Last Thursday I had a series of follow-up fasting blood tests. I wouldn’t receive the results for a day or two, but decided to celebrate early and chose to make risotto for dinner that night. On the way home, I picked up some cream for the sauce, along with fresh bread from a local bakery. I mean what the hell, in for a penny, in for a pound. While I have several risotto recipes, there was no doubt in my mind about which one I would make – Ben’s Cognac Risotto – a favorite of ours, with mushrooms, shallots, cream, butter, and plenty of Parmesan cheese.

From start to finish, Ben’s Cognac Risotto takes about forty five minutes to an hour to make. As with most risottos, it’s not complicated, however, once you start cooking, you can’t walk away from the stove. You need to be present, both mentally and physically.

That evening , I started heating up the required chicken broth, chopped up the needed shallots and mushrooms, separately measured out the cognac and cream for the sauce, and then grated the Parmesan cheese necessary for the finish.

Shallots and Mushrooms – the Key to Ben’s Cognac Risotto…

The next step is an optional one, but I find it adds to the relaxing nature of making risotto. I walked over to the bar and made myself a martini. In what may be a strange coincidence, I’ve learned that the time it takes to drink a martini, is almost exactly the same length of time it takes to make risotto. Not a martini fan? A Manhattan or Negroni will do, or even a glass of the red wine you opened to serve later with the risotto. Trust me on this. It works.

I made the mushroom sauce first and the kitchen filled with that heavenly smell only sautéed mushrooms can bring. After 5 minutes or so, I added the cognac and reduced it, and then added the cream and slowly reduced it some more. I set the sauce aside, and then started to work on the risotto itself. I also let Cathy know dinner would be ready in about twenty minutes, so she could finish setting the table, and pour some wine in our glasses.

Mushrooms, Cognac and Cream – What’s not to like?

After sautéing the shallots, I added the rice to the pan and stirred a bit. I started adding the broth, about a half a cup at a time, to the rice. Next? The ritual – Keep stirring the rice every few seconds; take a sip of martini; let the rice sit a little, then stir, and add the next portion of broth. And, repeat – Stir the broth into the rice, take a sip of martini, let the rice sit a bit, then stir, and add more broth. And repeat. And repeat. And repeat. A bit of zen zone settles in, or at least it does for me. It’s just me, the spoon, and the rice.

In the Zen Zone – Just me, the Spoon, and the Rice…

As I neared the last of the broth, I tasted the rice, checking for chewiness. You still have the mushroom sauce to add, so a little chewiness is OK. I know that if there’s a bit of broth left, it’s not a big deal.

Finally, It was time. I stirred the mushroom sauce into the rice, and let it thicken a bit. I then added the Parmesan and stirred some more. Cathy brought our bowls over, and I put some risotto into each of them, with another dusting of Parmesan on top of each. I took the last sip of my martini, grabbed the bread warming in the oven and crossed to the table. We clinked glasses and then settled into the wonderfulness that is Ben’s Cognac Risotto.

The Wonderfulness that is Ben’s Cognac Risotto…

Cathy asked me if we were maybe celebrating too early, since I hadn’t yet received my test results. I answered I felt good about the tests and wasn’t worried. Besides, it’s a good thing to occasionally celebrate life.

Late the next afternoon, although I hadn’t received a call from the doctor, I logged into my account at her office. The four test results were there – I quickly opened and scanned each of them. Everything was fine, and in fact a couple of tests showed further improvement from last June. The low dairy, low carb diet was working. It also appeared the occasional piece of cheese, serving of roasted potatoes, or bowl of risotto wasn’t having an overly adverse effect on me. I could live with this.

Live is the key word. I’ve reached the age where something is always breaking down, or going a bit haywire in my body. There is always some new thing I need to be aware of for my future health. While healthy over all, Cath and I both have issues that crop up. And of course we have friends who are dealing with greater issues – cancer, loss of eyesight, early onset dementia… getting older isn’t for the faint of heart. But you also have to live, and enjoy life in all of the ways you can. For me, the ritual of risotto is one of those ways, and I’m not ready to give up on it yet. We may not have it as often, but trust me, it’s still going to appear on the menu.

Otherwise, what’s the point?

Addendum:

– * As a side note, I love my doctor, Doctor Emman Hussny, and have been with her for a long time – around twenty years. When she left one practice to start her own, I moved with her. She has a great bedside manner, and encourages leading a healthier lifestyle, without being draconian about it. During checkups, we certainly have discussions about my health, but also discuss other topics of the day. I feel like she genuinely cares about me, and I’m not just another patient flowing through her office.

– Here’s the recipe for Ben’s Cognac Risotto – enjoy! If you want to tone it down a bit, you can substitute milk, or even 2% milk for the cream.

The Lions and the Warthogs

The Lions and the Warthogs

When we returned to the Chobe Game Lodge, we were still animated from our safari that afternoon. The manager asked us how it went, and we excitedly told him about the lions hunting the warthogs. He asked “Ahhh, and who did you bet on?”

We had arrived at the Lodge the afternoon before. Located in Chobe National Park, it’s a wonderful setting. The Park is particularly known for some of the largest elephant herds anywhere in the world and didn’t disappoint – we saw hundreds of elephant along the Chobe River on our drive to the Lodge that first day.

The next morning, we were on safari when our guide, Thuso*, received a radio call that lions were at a certain location near the river. We quickly changed our route and drove to the spot by the Chobe. Sure enough, there were a couple of female lions and we watched them, as they settled in for a sleep. We were told they had cubs, but the cubs stayed out of sight in the brush. For me, big cat sightings are always special, and this time was no exception.

Settling in for a Snooze

Eventually we moved on and resumed our planned route. For the rest of the morning we had the opportunity to see plenty of ellies, baboons and male Kudu. We’d seen plenty of female kudu on previous safaris, but it was a treat to see the males with their huge spiraling horns. Later, we returned to the Lodge for lunch, and siesta time.

I love the Kudu’s Spiraling Horns

When we left for our afternoon game drive, it was bittersweet. After three weeks of travel, this was the final safari of the vacation and our friends, Bill and Sharon, would fly back to the States the next day. We made a joke with Thuso about it being our last safari, and we hoped she could make it special. She laughed, and then said “Let’s go back and check on the lions. I doubt they moved during the heat of the day.”

Our Wonderful Guide, Thuso

We drove for twenty minutes or so and arrived back at the location of the lion sighting from that morning. As we pulled around a corner, there they were, not two, but seven lions sleeping or lounging in the shade. We watched for the next twenty minutes, as the pride woke up, and started moving around. It was fascinating to see their nonchalance as they slowly stood, stretched and nuzzled one another.

The Pride Starts Coming to Life

The matriarch of the pride eventually crossed the path in front of us and strolled to a nearby stream for a drink of water. Thuso quietly said “I think she is on the hunt.” and pointed out two warthogs, perhaps two hundred yards away, foraging along the bank of the Chobe River. As the lion drank from the stream, her view was fixed on the warthogs. She crossed the stream, and after sitting briefly, slowly started covering the distance to her prey.

The Lioness was Keeping her Focus on The Task at Hand

Meanwhile, while there was no apparent communication, the rest of the pride slowly stood up, and one by one, at perhaps one or two minute intervals, crossed the road, and made their way to the stream for a drink, and then oh so slowly, followed the matriarch’s lead.

As the matriarch proceeded towards the warthogs, she occasionally slowed or stopped, or shrunk down to the ground. The rest of the lions followed her lead and acted similarly. While she moved on a straight line to the warthogs, the rest of the pride slowly spread to the left as they crossed the stream. With the River on the far side preventing the warthogs movement in that direction, the lions spread in a lazy “L” to the left, creating something of a classic ambush setup. The warthogs were blocked in on three sides and oblivious to what was about to happen. We were barely breathing as we watched the lions set up the attack.

The Lions Set Up a Classic Ambush Pattern

The matriarch was pretty much low crawling at this point. Finally, she was perhaps fifteen yards from the nearest warthog. She paused, then, with a leap, charged the warthogs. And…

Two of the Lions and One of the Warthogs. Note the Lead Lion in the Crouch

Do you remember watching the Roadrunner cartoons as a kid? When the roadrunner disappears in a flash of speed and a cloud of dust? That is exactly what the warthogs did. The warthogs turned to the left, turned on their afterburners (who knew warthogs had afterburners!?!) and were gone. I swear, they moved 50 yards instantly. The lead lion raced for perhaps ten yards, and then just stopped. The other lions didn’t do much more than stand up to join the chase, and immediately stopped as well. We watched the dust trails form behind the warthogs as they raced parallel to the Chobe River. They were quickly out of sight and all we saw was their dust lingering in the air.

We were silent for a second, and then all of us burst out laughing and talking at the same time. Of all the possible outcomes, this was one we had never anticipated. The lions had a great setup, they had three sides blocked, and yet, the warthogs made their escape, and made it look easy.

We eventually continued on our safari and saw several more animals, but the hunt didn’t leave us. Even as we drank our last sundowners that evening, the lions and the warthogs dominated the conversation. We had spent close to an hour watching the hunt. It would have been hard to find a better way to end our final safari of the vacation.

The Perfect Ending to our Last Safari with Bill and Sharon. We were Still Laughing about the Lions and the Warthogs

Returning to the Lodge, we were still animated. We saw the manager and he asked us how the afternoon went. We quickly and excitedly told him about the lions hunting the warthogs. He asked “Ahhh, and who did you bet on?” We looked at each other and all of sheepishly admitted we mentally bet on the lions. He chuckled, and then with a smile, said “Never bet against the Warthog.”

Addendum:

⁃ * Thuso was the first female guide we had on this trip, or on our previous trip to Africa. In fact, all of the Guides at the Chobe Game Lodge are female. They must meet the same exact standards of schooling, tests and field work as the male guides. She was an excellent guide – as good as any of our previous guides at the other locations.

⁃ Thanks to Bill Reichhardt for the great photo of the stalking lions. When I asked him whether he had any pics of the hunt, he replied “This shot shows two of the lions and the intended prey – the super speedy warthog – just before he turned on the afterburners. I didn’t have a fast enough shutter speed set for that.” ;-). If you want to see more of Bill’s wonderful photos from Africa, you can view them here: http://billreichphoto.com/

⁃ This is the eighth and final blog about our 2021 trip to Africa. The previous blogs are listed here, in the reverse order of their publishing.

⁃ This is the second time we have used Karen Dewhurst, of Sikeleli Travel & Expeditions as our travel consultant. After working with her in 2018, there was no doubt we would use her and Sikeleli again. All accommodations were amazing, the food and wine excellent, the logistics and travel arrangements perfect and the animal viewing exceeded all expectations. If you are coming to this part of the world, I highly recommend her and them. You can reach Karen at: karen@sikelelitravel.com | (+27) 81 067 1094 (South Africa). Their overall website is at: https://sikelelitravel.com/ .

A Delivery on the Khwai River

A Delivery on the Khwai River

We were in a small safari boat on the Khwai River in Botswana. We’d just finished some up-close sightings of hippos and elephants when a boat came speeding straight toward us. What was up? Was something important happening at camp? Was there a rare animal sighting on a different part of the river? We were about to find out.

We had arrived at our camp, Xakanaxa, using a six-seater plane the day before. Xakanaxa is located in the Moremei Game Reserve in the Okavango Delta, a World Heritage Site. The waters in the Delta created a lushness that was different from the other safari lodges we had visited. At one point, between the lushness, and the abundance of animals in close proximity with each other, I thought to myself “This is what the Garden of Eden looked like.”

The Garden of Eden

Later on that first day, we had an unbelievable leopard sighting. Harry, our guide had seen the leopard the day before at the site of a kill, so he knew roughly where it would be. Still, this was amazing. After tracking the animal, he located it dozing near a tree. You or I would have gone right by and never known it was there. We were only about five yards away, and watched the leopard for about fifteen minutes as it dozed, woke briefly, and then dozed some more.

A Leopard, Up Close and Personal

On the afternoon of our second day, we chose to take a boat safari instead of a driving safari in the land cruiser. You have a different vantage from the boat, and sometimes, when lucky, enjoy incredible views. That was the case that afternoon, as we saw two swimming elephants (only the second time we’d actually seen elephants swim), hippos, crocodiles on the bank and in the river, and one elephant just a few yards from us in the water, munching on grass.

Elephant having a Bite to Eat in the Khwai River

A bit later, as we were motoring back in the direction of camp, we were held up when a hippo submerged ahead of us in the river. The river “path” was narrow enough at that point, that Harry didn’t want to proceed without knowing exactly where the hippo was – if it rose under the boat the potential to be upended was real, something that’s never a good idea in a river filled with crocodiles.

While waiting for the hippo, we had some luck and saw a rare bird – the “Little Bittern”. It was first seen by our friend Sharon (“What’s that?”), and identified by our guide. It turned out that sightings of the Little Bittern are pretty unique. Returning to camp later that evening, we learned some birders from South Africa had looked for it over the previous three days, but never managed to see it. Sharon later joked, “Yep, we were lucky to see the elusive, and exclusive, Little Bittern. And who saw it first?” 😉

“The Elusive, and Exclusive, Little Bittern”

It was after the Little Bittern sighting when we saw the fast approaching boat. Although Harry didn’t look concerned, the four of us had unspoken questions. What the hell was going on? Why would someone be coming down the channel that rapidly? Was there a problem somewhere? Had someone else’s boat been upended by a hippo? Were they going to warn of us about an issue up river? Was there some exciting sighting further up the river? We then recognized Mox, the lodge manager, and Harry said “Mox has a delivery for me.”, which raised more unspoken questions – What was so important that a delivery was needed in the middle of the Khwai River during our safari? Were we low on gas? Was oil leaking? Was there an unknown engine problem? Mox gave a wave, smiled and slowed down as he approached our boat.

Mox, Approaching our Safari Boat

Mox pulled up next to us and then all became apparent – he handed a bottle of Jameson Irish Whiskey to Harry! Harry and Mox both started to laugh, and then let us in on the rest of the story. When we left Xakanaxa that afternoon, Harry packed Gin, Tonic Waters and limes for our sundowners, but forgot to grab the Bottle of Jameson. Our friend Bill had switched between G&Ts and Jameson over the course of our trip, and Harry wanted to be prepared for either choice, so he radioed back to camp to have the Jameson delivered to our boat. At that, we all broke out laughing. This was service above and beyond the call of duty. With a wave and a smile, Mox departed and went back to camp.

Mox and Harry Making the Critical Handoff

A half hour later or so, Harry piloted us to one side of the Khwai and prepared our drinks. On safaris, Gin and Tonic was virtually always my drink of choice for sundowners, but I knew that evening I was going to have a Jameson. Harry made G&Ts for the ladies and two Jamesons for Bill and I. We all toasted each other “Pula!”** and enjoyed our drinks. I have to say, I always appreciate Jameson, but it was extra tasty that day on the Khwai. As we sipped our drinks, we joked with each other the whole thing would have made a good Jameson commercial.

Pula!

We sat there, enjoyed our drinks and watched the sun set across the river. It was another perfect ending to a great day. I looked around and then said to Harry, “Do we have time for a second drink?” He smiled and answered “I was told to bring the bottle back empty.”

The Perfect Ending to a Great Day

Addendum:

⁃ **Pula actually has four different meanings: rain, a blessing, “Cheers!” If toasting someone over a drink, and lastly, it is what they call their currency. It’s a pretty versatile and important word in Botswana.

⁃ This is the seventh in a series of blogs about our 2021 trip to Africa. The previous blogs are listed here, in the reverse order of their publishing.

⁃ This is the second time we have used Karen Dewhurst, of Sikeleli Travel & Expeditions as our travel consultant. After working with her in 2018, there was no doubt we would use her and Sikeleli again. All accommodations were amazing, the food and wine excellent, the logistics and travel arrangements perfect and the animal viewing exceeded all expectations. If you are coming to this part of the world, I highly recommend her and them. You can reach Karen at: karen@sikelelitravel.com | (+27) 81 067 1094 (South Africa). Their overall website is at: https://sikelelitravel.com/ .