I have been punked by WordPress, the very website that hosts my blog! I run a modest little blog here. I have a faithful group of followers. I’m not breaking any records in readership, but we laugh together here.
A little backstory – WordPress puts out statistics so I can see how I’m doing (at least by viewer numbers. They don’t ask any personal questions about my general wellbeing.) On October 28, my stats were surprisingly good considering I had not put out any content in a couple weeks. By November 1, WordPress was telling me that my stats were booming, and I was getting more traffic than usual with 69 hourly views. I had my largest “readership” ever on that day, but something seemed off. I wasn’t getting any comments. Also, when somebody new finds me, they usually look at a few different posts. These were one different post view per visitor.
Initially I was excited that my blog was booming, but we all know that if something seems too good to be true, it’s probably not true. That was the case here. AI was “reading” my blog posts. I guess they have a lot of time on their non-hands, so why not.
I asked my faithful blogging friend at www.theromanticvineyard.com if she was having any unusual activity on her blog. She was and she looked into it. (I love friends who will dig around and get an answer.) WordPress allowed AI to read its blogs and try to learn from them. I can’t imagine what they learned from my blog, but I guess even AI needs a sense of humor.
Six days later, and I’m back to my normal level of activity, so I guess I’ve been mined for all the gems that AI could find. If you find anyone out there that sounds a lot like me, ask for some identification please.
On a side note, my ever supportive and optimistic husband said that he thought I was getting bleed-over from when I posted on Facebook a poorly lit video of a bear eating from my camera/feeder in the backyard. It has 595 views so far, more than I ever have received from any blog post. So, to wrap up my story and for your viewing pleasure, I’m including the clip here for you. This happened at 4:30 one morning last week. The bear ripped the feeder off its post and then munched on bird seed for a while. You can hear him chewing. Also, I think he may be upside down in the video because some friends thought he was a pig. Nope. A pig could not have reached that high, and Mr. Bear ate a modest amount of birdseed, so nope in that vein as well. This must have been a dainty bear, because he didn’t even touch the other near-by feeders.
Speaking of big things happening around here, I am getting ready to release a new book! This one is for grown-ups! It will be out before Thanksgiving, and you know what that means! It means my Christmas shopping is done! Tune in to my next blog post for more about it and how you can get some of your Christmas shopping done, too.
I’m writing this from my dining room table, not the Seminole County Jail. Since returning home from Alaska last week, I’ve been catching up on everything – laundry, sleep, correspondence, sleep, grocery shopping, sleep, and one bit of business that my mom, who lives with us, saved for me to do for her.
While we were away, Seminole County Supervisor of Elections had postcards delivered to verify our street addresses and signatures. Mom’s was a little different because she likes to vote by mail. She signed the card verifying the address and I sent it off for her. It was also time to re-up her request for a mail-in ballot. I tried to do it online, but encountered a glitch (truth be told, I put in my dad’s last four instead of hers) and couldn’t complete the form. They are very picky about getting the facts straight, and I’m glad.
I got my numbers straight, but still the site wasn’t cooperating, so I went old-fashioned and used the phone. Mom prefers for me to make her appointments and handle things like this for her as she does not have a smart phone, and those flip phones are exhausting to operate. Usually, I just say I’m her and take care of business. It’s easier and she doesn’t care. Her dermatologist doesn’t care; Walgreens doesn’t care; her hairdresser doesn’t care. But apparently the Seminole County Supervisor of Elections Office cares.
When their office answered my call with “who am I speaking with,” I gave my mother’s name. I tried not to sound too peppy because Mom is 97. I answered all their questions just fine until they stumped me and I needed Mom’s help. As I was walking into Mom’s room, the conversation went like this:
Me – “I’m sorry. I’m lying to you. This isn’t really Pauline, it’s her daughter. Mom can’t handle the prompts of press this number or that because she has a flip phone. I’ve just walked into where she is. Mom, please state your name.”
We were met with silence, obviously hung up on. You know how when you accidentally give someone misinformation and then you realize it and say, “Oops, I’m lying,” and set it straight? Perhaps one shouldn’t do that when dealing with anything to do with a political election.
I tried their website again, but it continued to glitch, so I had no recourse but to call, this time with Mom by my side and we set the record straight. I even told the woman who answered this call what had happened, and she seemed understanding. Perhaps she cares for a nonagenarian like I do. Either way, Mom is all set up to vote by mail in the next general election.
As the day went on, I thought better of impersonating my mom by phone when dealing with government agencies. Those thoughts rang loud and clear when a knock came on our front door mid-afternoon. We weren’t expecting anyone, and we’re in the back of our neighborhood, so we don’t get many drop-ins. So naturally I thought, it could be someone from the Supervisor of Elections coming to take me in. Thankfully, it was a friend bringing flowers to my mom. I’ll keep her in mind in case I need a character reference down the road.
Our youngest grandsons came for a visit, and I was prepared, except for the part where I wasn’t. I pulled out a few of our saved toys and placed the Brio train set where there was plenty of room for them to spread out and build a train village. And then it happened. Felix, our ten-year-old, wasn’t interested at all, but Oliver, who is six, sat right down and started creating. He put several tracks together and glided the trains around them. It took me back to earlier days when I’d watched his dad play with those very tracks. It was sweet, and after about fifteen minutes, it was over. I didn’t even get a picture!
When I say over, I mean the beloved train set which my children and older grandchildren had spent hours of enjoyment playing with, no longer was needed in our home. It was the end of the line. Our grands are so used to playing games on phones that these old relics didn’t cut it anymore. I began to notice the transition several years ago with our now 13-year-old granddaughter Layna. The five grands before her were more used to floor play and actual toys, but when they started to use video/computer games more, her interest in traditional toys waned as well. Felix and Oliver followed suit. That is the state of things. I shudder to think of creativity lost, plus the art of bartering for the favorite train. These were foundational play opportunities.
Hello? Is anybody there or are you already on your phone? I’m as guilty as anyone when it comes to time on the stupid cell phone. But I didn’t see this coming, which happens more often when your grandkids don’t live near you. You lose track of what they’re into at any given time. But for me, this was not only the end of the line – it was the end of an era.
Perhaps I could have prolonged the termination of our train set if I could have gotten down on the floor and played with Oliver. That is what I typically would have done, but my current knee issues have already derailed anything that requires floor time. Since my recent knee surgery, I didn’t think it wise to put my caboose on the floor and play lest I needed an engine (or in my case an engineer) to help me back up.
At the end of the visit, the train was up for grabs. I always thought I’d give it to the youngest grandkids, but they are not interested, and I am okay with that. That train has left the station, albeit all too soon for this grandmother. But, with only one text, it has been rescued from the certain uncertainty of Good Will by my daughter-in-law Dacia who is only too happy to keep it on hand for when her boys have boys and girls of their own. Success!
These boys are in their late teens now, but I love this picture of them.
I sat on the couch with Felix and watched him play some kind of card game on his phone. He wanted to teach me, but my meager capacity to keep all those numbers and cards straight was more than I wanted to admit to him. I told him I’d learn it by watching him; he could teach me that way. It didn’t take. Now I knew how Oliver felt after fifteen minutes of the trains. It was enough. I’m beaten on both fronts.
It’s a good thing we have a pool. The boys don’t have easy access to one from their North Carolina home, so it makes up for a lot. I did play Marco Polo with them, though I don’t move as fast as I’d like. They didn’t care. We had great fun.
Any time with our kids and grandkids is special and I’ll play whatever they want me to play, except for Felix’s crazy card game or Clue. I do have limits. If I’ve never mentioned it before, my brain doesn’t work during the game of Clue. My kids took us to an escape room and my brain melted down like I was captive in that board game, trying to keep a good attitude when everyone was writing stuff on their stupid little clue sheets and I was making a grocery list on mine. Maybe that is why I never won.
My favorite book series that I have ever read is The No. One Ladies’ Detective Agency by Alexander McCall Smith. This charming series features a traditionally built lady who lives in Botswana. She is ready to begin life over and starts a detective agency. Mma Ramotswe has no credentials for being a detective, but she is wise and kind and helpful. Those three qualities along with her hiring of a quirky woman who boasts 97 percent on her graduation tests from a secretarial school, are all that is needed for this agency to take root.
From the very first book, the love of these characters and their home in Botswana also took root in me. Mma Ramotswe lives a quiet life, and she is endearing and traditional of all things Botswana. She drives a little white van, which she loves dearly and which her mechanic husband manages to hold together in response to her repeated protests when he suggests she buy a new vehicle. I just finished the 25th book in the series, and that little white van is still going.
I drive a little white car – not a van but an SUV. I remember back in 2014 when Bob suggested that it was time to look for a new car for me. At that time, I drove a 2002 white Ford Explorer. I loved that car because it had a third row, and I had space to corral grandchildren in it. Alas, he talked me into upgrading it to a 2014 Ford Escape.
This car had so many new features. It even would parallel park on its own (pretty much – I had to pull up near the parking spot correctly and man the brake). It also had heated seats, which was a new thing for me that I even took advantage of down here in Florida. The best feature was the ability to remotely start the car so the air conditioning could engage before we opened the door on a hot day and not be knocked over by the heat whooshing out the doors. I loved this car and never looked back on my former Ford.
When Bob and I recently began a conversation about upgrading my car, I was all in. Actually, it was my idea. We have several family members that would love a good used car that’s lived in a garage and was driven by a grandmother. That’s good marketing, but I had my sights on our 19-year-old granddaughter who wants to go back to college. Sometimes God lays out a direction so clearly. I love it when that happens.
I’ll cut through the details here. Ella is now the owner of my sweet ride, and I am driving something that is altogether different from my first car – a 1974 Toyota Celica. If I had thought about this car back then, I could have written sci-fi books. It is that different. My standard-shift Toyota didn’t even have AC as a standard feature. My new Kia Sportage has air-conditioned seats. And that’s not evening mentioning all the cameras around it. It’s like having paparazzi monitoring my every move. Honestly, it’s a little intimidating, but I’ll adjust.
The night before my Escape went to Ella, I was a little anxious and didn’t sleep well. It took me a minute to figure out that I was sad to say goodbye to my faithful Ford. When I finally figured that out, my first thought was – that’s ridiculous. My next thought – but not unexpected.
Goodbye, old friend.
The first night that the car was in Ella’s possession, I dreamt about Ella driving my little white car and hitting a deer. Oh dear! What’s wrong with me? Emotional about a car? As it turns out, yes.
Then I thought about Mma Ramotswe. I know in the future there will be a book written about her having to replace her little white van. When I read that book, I know that I will understand her inner turmoil and the sadness of losing a four-cylinder friend. There will be no judgement from me, and I will shed a tear with her as she sends it off into the sunset.
Valentine’s Day. These are words that challenge me. Bob and I don’t make a big deal over the day, but we do recognize it. You don’t stay happily married for almost 50 years by ignoring the day designated especially for romantic love.
Most years we try to pull away to have time for ourselves. That’s challenging. A lot of married folks our age can simply stay home and celebrate together, but we do not live alone, so that can be awkward. I don’t like to go to crowded restaurants on that day either. We go out to dinner frequently, so it’s not that unique, though I love to go out to dinner, so it’s not a bad choice. Any excuse not to cook it great by me.
This year we decided to go to one of our favorite places – the Lake Apopka Wildlife Drive. This is my birding happy place. The views are expanses of blue and shades of green, which are enhanced by the lovely sounds of birdsong. The drive can take as little as two hours, but it usually takes us closer to three as we stop and take a walk along Lake Apopka and pull over at multiple places to pause and bird watch. It’s relaxing. At least it usually is.
For Valentine’s Day we packed a picnic lunch before we headed to the drive. We had never done that before, so we thought it would be special. We also made reservations for a movie later that night. Captain America: Brave New World would not qualify as a rom/com, but we enjoy the franchise, so why not! Because we didn’t know how long we’d be on the drive, we decided to wing it when it came to dinner. We knew restaurants would be packed, so we’d just let it play out.
The opening road on the drive this time of year is always packed with alligators, ducks, coots, and gallinules. Lake Apopka is a prime migratory spot, so we knew we’d have lots to see. I have a trusty bird guide to help identify the ducks. There are so many species! Every year I say I’m going to brush up on my duck knowledge, but by the end of migration season, I’m still weak as a duckling in my identification skills. It was a good thing I have a birding guide. It would have been an even better thing if I had taken it off the dining room table and put it in the car.
The drive in was lovely. We even spotted a couple of Wilson’s Snipes with their extremely long bill, so if you want to trick someone into going on a snipe hunt, this is not the place.
At the end of the road, we walked along the lake trying to spot alligators. We hadn’t seen a single one all the way in and that is strange. I reminded myself that they don’t take them in at night as I pictured Florida cowboys herding them into pens. Nope, that isn’t the way it works. Finally, I spotted a big daddy lurking by the shore with another gator swimming in the current passing him by.
We returned to our car and encountered a road closure that forced all the vehicles to take the same road – the road along the lakeshore, our least favorite way to go. That is when the tides turned. You don’t see as much on that part of the drive, and there is only one pull-out to bird watch. We were out for a relaxing day, so we figured this was a mere bump in the dirt road. We didn’t care. Until we did.
The speed limit along the drive is about 10 mph. It’s a bumpy, dirt road, and it’s made for watching wildlife from your vehicle, so that’s about right. The car leading the pack along the lakeshore that day must have been new or totally self-absorbed or possibly fascinated by the lack of wildlife that day (it was the worst day for bird watching we have ever experienced there) or maybe cruel and sadistic. I don’t know, but I do know that he drove 2-3 mph the entire way. By halfway down this long, boring road, there were at least 25 vehicles behind him, each with a driver ready to strangle somebody. When we approached the pull-out, I was hopeful that he would do just that and let us pass. Nope.
I should point out that there is no passing. On one side of the road is a drop-off to a canal and swamp area. The other side is Lake Apopka. It was brutal, and I think at one point a turtle passed us by. As we approached the sharp right turn of the road, there was another opportunity for this driver to pull over and let our growing line of cars pass. Nope again.
By now the car behind us was getting antsy. He pulled up close to our rear bumper on the driver’s side, signaling that he wanted to pass. He kept on us like a heron after a snake. Then he decided to honk his horn. I know he was desperate. We all were! But seriously! We were at least ten cars from the beginning of the line. Perhaps he wanted to start a procession of honking to alert the driver at the start.
At long last we reached the picnic area. Once again there were few birds to be seen, but we could tell they had been there by the splattering of bird poop on the tables. Ambiance at its best for a bird watcher? Uh, no, but we made do. From our perch on the poopified picnic table, we had the opportunity to people watch as another long parade of cars was inching along the road towards us at a snail’s pace. One oblivious driver got out of his truck, not 15 feet from the parking area, to view a baby gator. This blocked the entire road full of unhappy birders. As another man got out of his truck to approach the clueless gator gawker, Bob and I decided to skedaddle and get ahead of whatever wildlife was about to be on display. (Reminder: It’s illegal to feed alligators, especially to feed them people.)
At the end of the drive, we discovered that we would have plenty of time to go to a relaxing dinner before the movie, except we didn’t have reservations. We got in the car around 5:00 to get a jump on the Valentine crowd, but we made the mistake of choosing Longhorn Steak House, which is a favorite of the over sixty crowd, so they were packed. Five in the evening is regular dinnertime for them, so down the road we went.
I called Miller’s Ale House and they said it was only a ten minute wait and we should come ahead, no need to leave our name. When we got there, it was a twenty minute wait and the receptionist said we should have called ahead and left our name. We looked at each other and shrugged it off. Twenty minutes wasn’t going to be a problem. That is until it turned into 45 minutes, and we still had names ahead of us. Captain American was getting closer and closer, but we really needed Doctor Who or some other time traveler to help us achieve our plan.
Well, Chipotle had no line at all. Go figure! We weren’t too disappointed because we do eat out often, but it was kind of amusing that the place where we could enjoy a meal alone together was fast food. The rest of the world was waiting at Miller’s Ale House and Longhorn.
Buying tickets to go to the movies is so great now. You don’t have to wait in line or worry about your seat selection. You can get that empty seat buffer between you and the next group. It’s easily done on your smartphone. We settled in with plenty of time.
Minutes before the show started, a young man with a big tray full of food plopped down right beside me in our buffer zone. I should mention that the theater was only about a third full. I thought maybe he was joining the group to his right, but no, he was there to watch the movie with me.
It didn’t take but a minute to surmise that this young man with the welcoming smile and friendly manner had some special needs and that he was a huge Marvel fan. He was so excited that when the movie began, he clapped and informed me that Captain America is not Steve Rogers anymore, but it’s now Sam Wilson who was the Falcon. He didn’t want me to miss a thing. He chatted right up to the start of the movie, and I wondered if he was going to disturb anyone, but he kept his voice low while informing me of who was who each time a new character appeared. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I was familiar with the storylines. It was a privilege to watch the movie with this fellow, and I have to say a highlight of a very weird Valentine’s Day. Of course, Bob was there, but my new friend kept his voice low enough that even Bob was unaware of his comments. I’m glad he chose the buffer seat next to me.
If you like classy romantic comedies and you also are interested in the space race, particularly Apollo 11 and its historic moon landing, you will love this movie! It was refreshing to see a film that has an engaging storyline and clips of a time in history of which I am fascinated. How entertaining to look back at Cocoa Beach in the late 1960s – that was a bonus!
I was 13 years old when Apollo 11 landed on the moon in July of 1969. We did not live in Florida at that time, but my dad was involved in the Mercury, Gemini, and Apollo missions via his job as a deputy communications director at Andrews Air Force Base just outside of Washington, D.C. In fact, in the early 1960s, that area in Maryland did not yet have its own identity as our postal city address was Washington, D.C.
I have memories of Dad going on TDY (temporary duty) “down range.” I do not recall ever asking him what that meant. I was probably afraid he would tell me, and I would be sucked into his work life. The answers would have been far more exciting now than when I was a young teenage girl. More than likely, I was simply involved in myself and didn’t even think to ask the question.
Dad traveled a lot during the launches. He also went to splashdown parties and several of the astronauts knew him by name. That was realized by my nephew one day when Dad was visiting them in Washington State. During some tour they were doing, an astronaut was there, recognized my dad, and called him by name. In my nephew’s eyes, Dad may as well have landed on the moon.
All these memories and more were swimming through my mind while we watched the movie: Walter Cronkite and his famous sign-off, “And that’s the way it is…” – Mixing a glass of Tang, just like the astronauts drank in space. – Neil Armstrong telling us, “The Eagle has landed.” – And even more moving were those perfect words he stated after setting foot on the lunar surface. “That’s one small step for man and one giant leap for mankind.”
The actual footage incorporated into the film was marvelous. The story contained parts that were crazy and funny. I laughed so much at one point that I disturbed the man sitting in front of me. (He’s not used to going to the movies with me!)
I was sucked into the story – like I wish I had given myself and my dad the opportunity to allow me to be sucked into the amazing things he was witnessing up close and personal back so many years ago. I missed my dad. Sadly, those times can’t be revisited.
Or can they? Not in the same way, of course. After Dad passed nearly seven years ago, being the only local one of their kids, I was tasked with going through his massive files and memorabilia. We kept the garbage collection folks busy during that time, but there were some real gems within the mountains of stuff, including lots of information about Apollo 10 and 11. I wish I could ask my father how he came to own these things, but that may be a question better not to ask.
Here are a few of my favorite photos from the files, complete with autographs. I think I need to figure out how to display some of these.
Earth Rise
After recovery from splash down over the Pacific Ocean, President Nixon speaks to the astronauts via microphone while they are in their quarantine trailer aboard the USS Hornet some 900 miles southwest of Hawaii. The trailer was then offloaded in Hawaii and flown by aircraft to Houston where the astronauts completed their 21-day quarantine. You can’t be too careful! There might have been harmful organisms brought back from the moon.
And then there is my favorite artifact from that period – a Project Apollo coffee mug. During the movie, this mug was featured prominently in the command center as NASA employees watched the launch of Apollo 11. It also has a prominent place in my curio cabinet. I’ll never drink out of it because I’d probably spill since it’s cone-shaped (like the command module) and likely the paint contains lead. Still, it’s pretty cool and one of my favorite things from my dad. Thanks for the memories, Dad!
So, what are the chances that I would see the movie, Fly Me to the Moon, on one day and then the next day revisit an old blog post of mine from July 2011where I talk about my love the space program? Astronomical!
The movie and that post have some interesting, common links, so I’ll also link it here. By the way, before July 31, 2012, I blogged under A Ship Bound for Tarshish, so don’t get confused by the name difference. You’ll be clicking onto the correct link.
With temperatures hovering in the upper 90s for most of the month, this was the hottest May ever in Orlando. It felt like a sauna as the humidity has been hiding over the Atlantic or the Gulf. I’m sure it will get here soon – no worries. I do enjoy the anomaly of heat plus low humidity, but not so much this year as I have been forced to stay inside.
A spider bit me, and to my dismay I did not get superpowers.
Stupid spider!
What I did get was a staph infection. Today is Day 19 on antibiotics. This is one of the tetracycline varieties, which comes with a warning to stay out of the sun. So, instead of gaining superpowers, it’s more like I have become a vampire. A simple trip to the mailbox and I fear I could burst into flames.
Bob and I had a beach weekend with friends last weekend. I should say that Bob had a beach weekend while I had a stay in a condo by the beach. I did venture down for a short trip to dip my toes in the ocean. I used half a bottle of sunscreen SPF70 and wore a shirt over my swimsuit. I also had on a hat that covered my neck and stayed under an umbrella 98 percent of the time. It is entirely possible that I am whiter than before I went, but time with friends was worth it.
We did an afternoon boat trip along the Indian River looking for dolphins. We saw lots of them plus a bald eagle. Dolphins don’t pose for photos, but here’s proof one was out there:
There were two small islands crowded with pelicans and herons.
The boat was covered, so no spontaneous combustion from me. It was lovely to be outside! So, that’s what’s been going on with me. The situation has given me plenty of inside time to blog about our Italy/Switzerland trip – so that’s a positive. I’ll finish that up in the next week.
I’m praying that this will go away before Bob and I set out on our next adventure – a golf trip to Scotland with our son and his family, which starts in less than a week.
I will not be golfing, but that has nothing to do with staying out of the sun. It has everything to do with the fact that I am very unathletic. I’d say at least I won’t get hurt since I won’t be exerting myself, but if a spider can take me down, well, what else can I say? Thankfully, I’m in no pain, but prayers for complete healing for this weird thing would be appreciated.
And speaking of prayer, I was very convicted at church this morning of not asking for prayer. I was on an antibiotic, but that was not proving to have the healing power that I thought it might. I’m thankful that I know The God who heals, and he sent his Son Jesus to offer both healing and eternal life in Him. So, I asked for prayer at church, and I’m asking here again if you would please pray for me. Thanks!
Years ago, Bob and I took a day trip through the Ocala area to encounter a part of Florida which was unknown to us. During that time, we had lunch on the edge of beautiful Lake Weir in Ocklawaha, just down the shoreline from the house where the Justice Department (not yet the FBI, though under the leadership of J. Edgar Hoover) gunned down two members of the infamous Karpis-Barker gang in their famous raid of 1935. This is touted as the longest FBI shootout in history. The house where this occurred is now called the Bradford – Ma Barker house. The Bradford part is because Ma Barker had rented the Bradford home through a mutual acquaintance. It was to be their summer hideout, unbeknownst to Mr. Bradford who enjoyed it as a hunting retreat and get-away from his main home in the Miami area.
The 2100 sq. ft. house has three bedrooms and two bathrooms. The kitchen is well-equipped for the day and the living area is spacious.
We tried to get an up-close look at the house that day but could only get as close as the edge of the property along the street. We dared not trespass as that was clearly forbidden by the signage on the property, but months later we saw a news report that the house, which was built in the 1930s, was being moved across the lake to its now permanent residence in the Carney Island Recreation and Conservation Area, a part of Marion County Parks and Rec Department. Mr. Bradford had maintained ownership of the house after the shoot-out and had gone back for visits frequently. At some point it was sold, and the new owner wanted to build a new house on the lot. He gave the house, bullet holes and all, along with its entire contents, to Marion County, Florida, who arranged for the moving of the house.
My husband alongside a splay of bullet holes in an upper bedroom.
Most people are familiar with Depression era gangsters and mobsters, even if just through movies or TV. John Dillinger, Al Capone, Ma Barker, and especially Bonnie and Clyde were well-known for their nefarious lifestyles. Throughout my life (even as recently as last year), when introduced to someone new, I have often been asked, “Where’s Clyde?” This is accompanied by laughter from the person asking, as if they were the only one to come up with that great line! It’s the cross that I bear as a woman named Bonnie.
The lifestyle of gangsters was somewhat glamorized by TV and movies. For sure there is good story involved in the lives of these people – lots of suspense and intrigue, but only at the cost of suffering and death of their victims – not to mention the terrorizing of communities across the country.
Where my movie and television viewing preferences definitely lie in the comedy genre, a quality comedic offering can be as hard to find as Ma Barker and her gang were back in the 1930s. So, I often find myself ensconced in one of the many action/drama stories, as that selection is huge. I like a good story that I am totally unable to relate to from the comfort of my cozy, safe living room.
There was a movie made in 1960 that told the story of Ma Barker and her killer brood. It’s aptly entitled Ma Barker’s Killer Brood. It’s black and white and doesn’t hold up well; that is if it ever was any good at all. Still, we watched it as a preliminary study before we went to do the tour. It is tremendously inaccurate, and let me save you some time, don’t bother watching it. Instead, come to Florida and take the tour. The tour guide who enlightened us to the Barker gang was the best docent I have ever had.
Our docent in the middle of a captive audience telling of Ma and her gang while standing in the living room. All the furnishings are original.
It was extremely difficult to get a tour date booked. The Carney Island Recreation and Conservation Area, which is part of the Marion County, Florida, Parks and Recreation Department, still takes reservations by phone. You call and get in line, so to speak. They call you back when there is an opening. In our case, it took almost nine months. I could have had a baby in that time! The system may be speeding up by now, so you could possibly get in before the year is out! The tour costs $10 and can be booked by calling 352-671-8560.
Our docent started his “career” by being on the first tour offered by the parks and rec department. He is a gangster junky. When his unfortunate tour guide realized that one of his tourists knew more about Ma Barker than he ever imagined could be known, our docent was hired.
Here’s my version of the tour through photos. Almost all of the furnishings are original. This house is a living museum. We sat on the furniture and put our fingers in the bullet holes. I believe it won’t be long before this place is put on the national historic register, so enjoy it in its relaxed form while you can.
Bob enjoying a rest on the same settee upon which Ma Barker would have sat.
All of the photos on the table (and more) are part of our docent’s personal collection. He told us his wife was happy to have them displayed here.
My friend and fellow blogger, Roxanne, who was my perfect partner in crime that day as she is a huge history buff.
1930s styling! Not bad after a deep cleaning.
original lamp and table
Justice Department picture after their raid, taken on the front porch. They were afraid to go inside the house in case members of the gang were lying in wait. They got the neighbor, Willie Woodberry, a local handyman who did work for Ma, to go in and check out the situation. They gave him a bullet-proof vest and a few bucks. There was nobody left alive inside. Ma and one of her sons were the only ones home and had died in the raid.
A lovely, Florida driveway from the house back to the main part of the park.
I have an unhealthy fascination with bears. We live in Central Florida, practically spitting distance from the dreaded Interstate 4, so you wouldn’t think we’d get much interaction with them; but we do.
Florida black bear (Ursus americanus floridanus) sightings have ramped up in the last 12 or 15 years. The cuddly-looking creatures are being squeezed out of their habitat. I understand how that works, but I don’t understand what is so great about my backyard. For some reason they like to stop by here and destroy my bird feeding station. It wouldn’t be so bad if they did it when I could observe them and maybe even give them a wink as they tear things up, but they wait until I’m asleep and then – BAM! Birdseed and feeders go flying all over the place. Sometimes they knock over the birdbath. They are none too careful.
We have replaced the station several times and it is now outfitted with a stand which they can simply knock over instead of breaking the metal pole in two like a toothpick. They’ve knocked it over twice in the last few months, so I think we’ve got that angle figured out. Knock on wood.
Even with all the expense and clean-up they have caused us to undertake, I really want to see the bears. I have a high-powered flashlight to aid in my pursuit of even a glimpse. We have dubbed it the bear flashlight and it has been used to spot raccoons and opossums, but so far, no luck in the bear department. I have seen bears in our former neighborhood and in my son’s neighborhood, but here on the home front, I just see their path of destruction.
All that to say, when David Martin of our local Fox 35 news reported on Bearadise Ranch in Myakka City, which is just east of Sarasota, I knew I had to check it out. Here was a family who had dedicated their lives to bears and transformed the property which their home sits on into a bear preserve – truly a bear paradise.
Can you say day trip? Bob and I headed over there with visions of bear cuddling dancing through our heads. Alright, Bob had no such vision, but a girl can dream!
Monica runs Bearadise Ranch and gives close-up tours – not so close that you can get a bear hug or even touch one, but a good tour, nonetheless. The bears live on her property in several habitats, and they are clearly in love with her – and not like one loves apple pie. I can tell the feeling is mutual. She is so good with them and cool as a cucumber while interacting with these big fellows. She married into this job. Her husband’s family has been caring for bears since 1926. His grandfather was with Ringling Brothers and Barnum and Bailey Circus in the late 1940s.
These bears are famous. They have been in movies and on TV shows as well as commercials. They aren’t just ordinary black bears either, there are also brown bears, aka, grizzlies. It surprised me to see Monica interact with them in their own habitats. She has no fear. They clearly have a rapport with each other.
During our tour, she told us how the bears grieved when her husband died unexpectedly in 2017. It took months for them to get past that grief. She stayed right with them through her own grief, wearing her husband’s shirts as a means of comfort. They had to be cared for and she did just that. When she told her stories, I couldn’t help but feel admiration at what she does day in and day out. Monica is one amazing, hard-working lady, and she is dedicated to the wellbeing of each of her bears. It is worth the trip to Myakka to see her interact with her grizzly and brown bears. I highly recommend it but make a reservation first.
We’ve all had those time when we’ve taken a bath and the towel was just out of reach.
One potato, two potato. If you don’t eat it fast, you get no potato.
If you want to take a tour, contact Monica on her Facebook page, Bearadise Bear Ranch Preserve, or her website. You can also book lunch on the ranch. She has a cute gift shop as well as a pictorial history of their bears since their early days.
Monica is a wonderful hostess/tour guide/educator.
In 1982 things around Orlando got a lot more magical and for sure more futuristic. That is the year the EPCOT opened.
I unearthed the proof of the best Disney deal I ever heard of when I went through my dad’s filing cabinets after he passed away in 2017. An unused pair of Keepsake Tickets to the EPCOT Center Adventure was tucked away safely and in mint condition. This ticket entitled the bearer to three-days in either EPCOT or the Magic Kingdom. They were the only two Disney parks back then. I remembered my dad buying them and I also remembered encouraging him to use them. Dad liked memorabilia, and he liked it much more than waiting in lines.
Their value was approximately the current price of a 3-day park-hopper. I tucked them away for safe keeping. Also in Dad’s files was a stack of unused A-D tickets. If you know what I’m talking about, then you will not be surprised that no E tickets were in the stack. Way back in the olden days of Disney, your ticket consisted of an entry ticket and tickets ranging from A to E. The A tickets were for a ride like It’s a Small World, while an example of an E ticket would be Space Mountain. These tickets were phased out in 1982.
Bob and I had planned on getting annual passes to Disney after he retired. We already had one, which Bob had won in a work raffle back in 2000 – it was made of paper and was more like a voucher. At that point, we still had four kids at home, all teenagers, so one free ticket was not going to get us far. We put it in a safe place, and quite remarkably remembered where that place was when we decided last November that it was time to cash in.
Since we’re locals, we went to Disney Springs Customer Service with our stacks of paper consisting of:
Two 40-year-old Keepsake Tickets to the EPCOT Center Adventure
One 22-year-old voucher for an annual pass
A small stack of A – D tickets from the 1970s, which we assumed would have no value
The perky, pleasant young lady who got us at customers had her work cut out for her. Disney doesn’t see a lot of paper tickets in our digital world. She remained undaunted for the hour and a half that it took to go through several binders to look up each thing we brought her.
The keepsake tickets were easy. Three days is three days – no matter that Disney has added two more parks since EPCOT opened. They did garner some attention though. Every employee wanted to see the artwork on the 40-year-old tickets, which were older than most of said employees. These tickets were transformed into three-day, no restriction park hoppers, which are no longer available to be bought.
The voucher for the annual pass was a little more challenging. I’ll spare you the many details of converting that to my Disney World Annual Pass – no blackout dates and parking included. They no longer sell this ticket either.
As for the small stack of A-D tickets, thank you, Dad, that you never threw anything away. These were worth $61. Amazing. Paper does keep value.
Thank you, Walt, for making good on old, unused tickets. Bob and I came away with an annual pass for me and a Florida Resident Pixie Dust pass for him, which can be used only on weekdays and has some blackout dates when we wouldn’t want to go there anyway. Our out-of-pocket was way lower than it could have been!
So, bring on the magic. We have been enjoying EPCOT, Animal Kingdom, and the Studios. I am a Star Wars fan, so the Studios is my favorite.
I especially wanted to see the Magic Kingdom at night before the 50th anniversary celebration ends, so last Thursday night, Bob and I went out to dinner and headed to Disney. We would enjoy the magic more accompanied by grandchildren, but for one night we just wanted to see the 8:15 Disney Enchantment, a 50th anniversary nighttime spectacular with fireworks and projection effects on Cinderella’s castle.
We had plenty of time. We boarded the monorail at 6:45. There was a glitch with the train ahead of us, so we sat and waited for a few minutes. We would be in place by 7:30.
Finally, we were on our way. The monorail stops in the Contemporary Resort before reaching the official entrance to the park. That is where we sat on the train for almost an hour before being forced to reverse and go back to where we started. As we left the train, the youthful Disney cast members said, “Have a magical day!”
Everyone on that train wanted to see those fireworks. We were told to take the ferry or a bus. I asked a cast member (employee) about the bus. He replied, “There are no buses available. You’ll have to use the ferry. Have a magical day!”
Bob and I were near the front of this mass of people heading to board a ferry. We could see that one had just left minutes before we got there. We could also hear screaming – blood-curdling screaming which cut through the night air like a knife. It was horrible. I thought maybe a child was throwing a tantrum, but when we got to the boarding point, an unfortunate woman was shrieking at the top of her lungs. Then she went quiet and passed out. Several cast members appeared and got the reluctant and now revived woman into a wheelchair and whooshed her away. I don’t think she was having a magical day.
As we boarded the ferry, we were told to, “Have a magical day!” I hope the traumatized little girl who watched all of this would have just that. Maybe the fireworks would take her mind off that poor woman who was so distraught.
It took several minutes to load the ferry. By now we knew we wouldn’t make it for the 8:15 start time, but we were able to lean over the railing of the boat and see some of the fireworks as we crossed the lagoon. We disembarked at 8:25 to wishes for us to “Have a magical day.”
If you’ve been to the Magic Kingdom before, you know that when you get to this point, you have not yet gone through the entry to the park. We got in line as fireworks continued to burst through the air just out of our sight. Trouble again, we did not have a reservation. We were under the impression that we did not need one after 2 PM, but that perk doesn’t start until next month. A helpful cast member waved her wand and got us through. She also said, “Have a magical day!”
We finally got to the main street looking up at the castle at 8:35, just in time for the finale. For us it wasn’t a big deal as we live here, but I felt bad for the folks who had one shot at seeing it. It looked fantastic and we will go see it soon when our grandchildren are down. We will arrive hours ahead of time and we’ll take the ferry.
Our magic wasn’t over. We weren’t going through all of this for two-minutes of fireworks. It had been ages since we were in the Kingdom so we headed upstream to Tomorrowland like salmon fighting the current of people exiting the park.
Monsters Inc. is a great show – very funny. I highly recommend it. Next we went on the Tomorrowland Transit Authority PeopleMover for an overhead view of the land. The moveable inclined sidewalk (think escalator with no steps) was not working, so we had to walk up this squishy walkway to get on the ride that was also delayed a little because of a technical issue. It wasn’t too bad though, and we were wished a magical day.
We figured we had one more ride in us, so why not check out the Carousel of Progress and see how they’ve updated it. We got inside and the first stage greeted us. At that point a song is supposed to come on and the audience becomes a carousel ride to the next (stage) point of progress. We just sat there in the dark as a cast member told us in a muffled voice that there was a problem. I’m not sure she said for us to have a magical day, but I’ll bet she did.
Finally the lights came on and the floor abruptly shifted left and right, then the lights went off and the ride began again. This time there were no problems, but I have to say, it didn’t feel very magical.
By then the crowds were thinned and we could stroll through the castle and enjoy some of the 50th anniversary decorations. It was approaching 11:00 as we left and one more time, were told to “Have a magical day.”
It struck me so funny that we heard this time after time on a day when everything was more malfunctional than magical. That’s when the magic began for me. Finding humor always does it.
Life on the Lighter Side 