B.C. OBX CIRCA DREAMT 1984

we both were in awe of lighthouses -- when dating had many conversations, bought books, pictures -- even decorated with lighthouse miniature replicas and pictures on the wall not because it was the fad.  Each picture we bought we would read the history, find the location and dream -- vowed  "one day we'll see as many as we can."  We have now seen Tybee & St. Simons in Georgia. Hilton Head, South Carolina. Amelia Island, Florida.  And, now, OBX, North Carolina.  This trip proved special in so many ways.  We were fulfilling a dream we had talked about almost 30 years ago -- road tripping to the Outer Banks.  We dubbed this trip "lighter load" because it was just the two of us.  

GOING TO CAROLINA....IN MY MIND:-)

AFTER ELECTION AND 900 PAGES, PUNCHED AND BOUND, STRAIGHT OFF THE PRESS TO APPEAL TO SOMEONE :-)

NOW I CAN START THE VACATION I HAVE PLANNED AND CARRIED TRACED ACROSS A MAP IN MY BAG FOR MONTHS.  FULLY AWARE THERE ARE SOME WHO VACATION JUST TO GET AWAY...AWAY FROM WORK, FROM HOME, FROM KIDS, NOISE & HASTE OF EVERYDAY LIFE, TO LEAVE RESPONSIBILITIES -- TO LEAVE A POINT. 

I VACATION TO REACH A PLACE I'VE NEVER SEEN, SOMEWHERE I'VE READ IN A BOOK, A PLACE I'VE DREAMED OF, A PLACE I'VE HEARD ABOUT AND WHILE HEARING MADE ME LEAN IN A LITTLE CLOSER, LINGER IN ITS VISION A LITTLE LONGER ... A PLACE I TWISTED A GLOBE TO FIND WITH AN EXCITED INDEX FINGER.  OBX DELIVERED....

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gEusOoPpkEE

YES...WE HEARD THE HIGHWAY CALLING...IT WAS MELODIC.....

YES, JACK, ALWAYS BETTER WHEN WE'RE TOGETHER....

OUR DREAMS ARE MADE OUT OF REAL THINGS....

packing --happy Monk -- though not as melancholy as Tony Shalhoub's character, i do possess a monk-ality of sorts.  so packing is a challenge.  time for toiletries countdown.  Lliterally as I stand at vanity counting the q-tips -- einstein would be proud -- 2 people x 7 days = 14 but then 2 ears = 28 + 4 if xtra need arises.  Phew...So there we go 32 q-tips.  Some may question, why not take the whole pack?  Because....as I've grown older I have become a minimalist AND with the movement of years I have become more frugal -- so I buy in bulk.  Nate would flip his skin (bald) if I took an xtra suitcase just for q-tips.  On later reflection of my Q-tip OCD-like experience, i realize a deeper meaning -- at this point some may think, wow, how nurturing why does she feel the need to make sure they both have q-tips?  Just a nurturing nature?  I think not.  the q-tips for my sweetness is simple:  so he can hear me (though I say little)... BUT the q-tips for me (here comes my selfish nature) so I can hear the ocean tide at daybreak & days end -- he is a man of fewer words than I.  We both like Jack Johnson:-) And we both know "our dreams are made out of real things."

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S7zwMyGznYk

SAND & SUN...AND ON THE FIRST MORNING

HE SAID HE LOVED ME "JUST BECAUSE".  I GRABBED HIS HAND AND DRAGGED HIM TO THE SUNRISE.  HE GOT IT! OBX 11/10/10

LAST REQUESTS...

"Coffee, any last requests?"
"To see the sunrise twixt your fingers, as we both listen to the tide."
"Slurp." 
We thanked each other:-)



WAKE UP, MAGGIE (the other wife)

He argues with Maggie (I named my Magellan when I bought her 2 years ago).  I wonder in dog-years how old she is now.  She's shared many a mile with us.  As I was saying --
He's arguing with Maggie (& me) -- I parrot Maggie's instructions as he wheels into the donut shop to ask for directions, just to prove her wrong.  She patiently accepts his challenge.  We both wait (it's a woman thing).  He swears we should be going north.
He strolls back to us, long slow strides...as if a dread in step.  Eases back into his cockpit still-warm seat.  Quietly says, (member this is Nate) "Sorry, Maggie."...."Sorry, Susan." 
Giddy, I respond, "That's fine.  Now you have two women to argue with."  I tell him, "Stay mad at Maggie.  I want to be the fun wife."  He promises, I can. 
I win!!!!
Sorry, Maggie.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-JYkQo1Qxt0

ROADS! AND RANDOM CONVERSATIONS ON THEM!

think..think...think...thank you very much. 


I love road trips.  All who know me know this.  I love conversations on a road trip.  And I love silent interludes on road trips.  OBX, Nov. 2010, road trip conversation:
     Me:  Do you think there will be road trips in Heaven? 
     He:  Dunno.
Silent Interlude.
     He:  But I can promise you there will be no detours.
I love it when he promises me stuff.
Quiet hum of tires rolling.
     Me:  (Pondering driving down golden streets, hearing angels in the distance singing).
A dip in the road snaps me back to him and Nora Jones.  Golden sunlight glistens through the sunroof.
Heaven Can Wait, Mr. Beatty.

I love roads.  I love quotes about roads.  I love to look at pictures of roads and take pictures of roads.  Dirt roads, I like (even in a black car) because they often lead to obscure places.  City roads (more commonly called streets), I like because they often lead to excitement, a bustling source of entertainment, a dismission from loneliness,  museums, plays, or shopping...and lots and lots of lights.  Country roads (take me home), I cannot say enough about those.  Even bumpy, dippy, pothole roads....they keep your senses keen, slowing you to a pace you probably should be going in the first place.  Freeways, my least favorite, but they can take us faster, farther...so they serve their purpose well. 
I love Rocky Road ice cream.  And grooving up slowly....with joo joo eyeballs.




Thanks to the Interstate Highway System, it is now possible to travel across the country from coast to coast without seeing anything. Charles Kuwalt.


Loch Lomond is the largest loch/lake in Great Britain, by surface area. 


Chorus from The Bonnie Banks o' Loch Lomond


Oh! Ye'll take the high road, and I'll take the low road,
And I'll be in Scotland afore ye,
But me and my true love will never meet again,
On the bonnie, bonnie banks of Loch Lomond.

The original author is unknown. One story is that the song was written by a Scottish soldier who awaited death in enemy captivity; in his final letter home, he wrote this song, portraying his home and how much he would miss it. Another tale is that during the1745 Rebellion a soldier on his way back to Scotland during the 1745-6 retreat from England wrote this song. The "low road" is a reference to the Celtic belief that if someone died away from his homeland then the fairies would provide a route of this name for his soul to return home.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P687O8JiDpU

and then there is the poem:
      The Road Not Taken.....Robert Frost

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,


And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.  

So as for me and roads...there are roads that lead to somewhere.  There are roads that lead to anywhere and unfortunately we have all experienced a road, now and again, that led to nowhere.  Then....there are the roads, the very special roads connecting memories to possibilities, possibilities to expectations.  These are the roads I label:  THE ROADS THAT LEAD TO EVERYWHERE....


and then there's walking.....
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NYxWXPKU7jY

Ranting...and what it's all about , Alfie...



 Dajio Restaurant -- Dinner 3rd day
Patron rants about his whatever whatever to her-ever.  I try not to overhear -- refusing to allow this intrusion. 
Stumbled on the realization a long time ago that a man (or woman) who is ranting, cares little.  They will rant to anyone within ear-shot (OUCH!!!)....but....but...a man (or woman) who says little says it selectively -- engages -- actually causing me to 'enjoy the conversation' -- soaks in/flows out, in/out.  Yeah, sharing -- what I'm talkin' bout. 
Shrimp & rice with conversation.. Pour some more. 
Mr. Rant has left building.:-)
Ms. Rant in tow :- ( Poor Ms. Rant. 

__________________________________________
    

   The waves were awesome this day.  They were beautiful and crashing.  Wind was cool but not cold, occasional sea spray on your face made life just little better.  We loved it:-)

This was next day leaving Ocracoke..standing on a dock. Do you see what I see?



I can see the world!!!!



Nathan and I loved watching this.
We weren't sure what it was called.
We called it wind surfing (with a kite).  The winds were
up to 40 miles per hour. 
The guys went so fast it was hard to take a good picture. 
Sometimes wind would slow and they would sink down and be as if sitting on a surfboard .
Then within a second -- whoosh the wind would pull them back up and they'd be flying again.
Can't imagine the adventuresome feel they were getting.  It was exhilarating to watch:-) 

Coo-clueless! Hatteras/Ocracoke Ferry

on the ferry, in the car -- you don't get much closer than this -- except for the time we sat in our bathtub coddled in blankets & pillows during the 1994 Easter Day tornadoes parading through the county like a woman run amok in Salem Town, MA, 1692.  -- but that was long ago and far away. 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fgi28Wg0iHM&NR=1

On the ferry, i am reclined in the passenger seat staring at the sky through the sunroof.  When i lower my eyes to bifocal status, i see the sea, choppy waves.  My best friend is leaning forward hugging his steering wheel looking off in the distance over the sea to the island waiting beyond. 

I think:  Funny how i look into the sea and sky and he looks over the sea just under the sky. 

...We meet... 

I tell him, "I can't imagine being with someone i could not be myself with.  I feel so secure that i am me totally, how comfortable that feels." 
I'm thinking he's like my fave ole shoe or coat or glove that my heart refuses to let go of or ever forget. 

I tell him, "i love the fact that i have never felt the need to be anything other than myself with you, never felt the need to hide me from you." 

The chops slosh against the stained sides of the ferry, the netting blows steadily in front.

Realizing the one thing I have kept from him, I start, "Except for maybe one thing." 

He says, "What?"

I say, "The enormity of my love for you.  I have hidden that." 

Puzzled, he says, "What the h#*l is that?" 

We both laugh. 

He continues, "You don't have to hide it 'cause i don't even know what it is." 

I guess it was a be-there moment, but we both laughed so hard we almost cried. 
In a bit, the car fell silent except for the sunroof's grasp on the wind, waves of sea and the classical cello coming from his ipod. 
Time passes and he quietly (as always) says, "You know for just a little bit I'm afraid you would be too uppity for me.  Just a step up, you would be looking down your nose at my ignorance." 

I say nothing knowing, yep, the enormity is hidden because little does he know the privilege I know it is to be with him. 




YES, MR. TAYLOR, WE ARE "IN BETWEEN WHAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN AND WHAT HAS COME TO PASS"...

Sweet Baby James, "sometimes love is just a word I've heard when things are being said"...and it sounds nice. 

I think the pooch was laughing too, not sure with us or at us?
 I know for sure he was smiling....he smiled at me:-)

OUR AWESOME HITCHHIKERS!!!



CAPE HAT-R-US (mainly Nate)

Cape Hatteras lighthouse was 
authorized by Alexander Hamilton who was working under President George Washington.  Because of great sandbars that protrude southeasterly from the cape, and the cape marks convergence of warm Gulf Streams and cold Labrador Current this provides a turbulent collision of water.  Due to the vast amount of shipwrecks (graveyard of the Atlantic) Hamilton knew to protect shipping, a lighthouse must be built.  The brown sandstone lighthouse was completed in 1802.  Its beacon was only 90 feet tall and not very bright, drawing much criticism from many sea captains.  One captain called it “the most important lighthouse on our coast and without doubt the worst light in the world.”  After years of complaints, the lighthouse was refitted in 1854 with a new lens and lantern and was elevated to 150 feet.  Confederate soldiers, during the Civil War, destroyed the lens and lantern but they were restored in 1862.  A new lighthouse was rebuilt 600 feet northeast of the original location, due to needed repairs being more costly than buidling a new one.  The new lighthouse was 208 feet tall and was lit on December 16, 1870.  Its beacon was 192 feet above ground.  This lighthouse was eventually moved again.  But erosion continued to threaten the lighthouse. 

________________________________

The pictures below are of the old base of the original Cape Hatteras lighthouse.    

It was interesting trying to take these pictures.  As you can see at times the sea would completely cover the erroding base.  We would wait and snap just as she was pulling away. 

The following pictures are of the new lighthouse. 

 
Legend has it that during the design process of the new lighthouse, an engineer in charge of the lighthouse’s design had originally intended to give it a black diamond print, as an indication of the dangerous Diamond Shoals it bordered. Instead, the engineer accidentally mixed up the plans, and Cape Lookout’s lighthouse now sports the black diamond design. Hatteras Island’s lighthouse received the black and white candy cane stripes instead. Its current location is 2900 feet from the original location.  It is 1600 feet from the ocean. 
It is still the tallest masonry lighthouse in America.  It is known around the world for its signature black and white candy cane stripes and is often referred to as the Lighthouse of America.  

The pictures below are just a taste of the glory of the walk from the base of the original lighthouse to the new one. 
Beauty at its finest!

  

  

  




Little known fact on hats from a personal standpoint.  They talk.  Nathan's name at General Motors span over 25 years was Hat.  That's the name his co-workers knew him by and many didn't know his real name.  Many times I answered the phone to a caller saying, "May I speak to Hat?"  Nate began wearing hats when he was a young boy.  He wore caps to shield him from the sun while he was bailing hay from age 12 up, not sure before that.  At that time it was truly manual labor.  He was hired, didn't own the farm and by most people's standards was poor.  But he was rich in life and rich with a strong work ethic and principles, Godly principles.  A strong hand, but a soft touch.(Not a Pointer Sister's song).
To Nate your word is your word.  A handshake is a binding contract and a woman shouldn't lift anything over five pounds if a man is present, nor should a man sit by and watch a woman work.  He didn't and still doesn't suppress a woman with his gentlemanly notions but enables her.  He is the epitome of "chivalry that is not dead".   He is polite and still says ma'am & sir to coworkers, phone solicitors and waiters.  He still flags down police officers for directions.  He is a wonderful example to me.  I am thankful he is the father of my children and grandchildren, because of the example he exudes just by being who he is.  He continues to wear hats, just got used to them, I guess.  Donning a Yul Brenner-do now may lend some comfort to it.  The hats have changed over the years and the assortment in my home is plentiful there are caps (some with insignia/some not), fishing, cowboy, toboggans, sometimes floppy Crocodile Dundee styles I like, he calls safari hats.  My personal favorites are his toboggans and safari.  Because they denote to a whisper of "put on your timberlands and let's go".  Also, preacher's secretary likes to refer to his do-rag occasionally. This is the bandana he wears to keep sweat from his eyes while working in the heat.  Almost forgot about those.  
I love my Hat!!!

daughters I love....mine & others

 

pulling into rocky mount, michelle text "mom, I'm home alone tonight. keep hearing things. don't like this. I'm scared".

we begin our free text-to-text dialogue.  i reassuring her.  She calming.  i call.  we talk.  i realize she has adopted my butcher knife mentality.  she doesn't own a gun. she says she called me because she knew i would not think her crazy, because i never liked being alone at night.  she reminds me when she was little and i heard the rustling leaves, she almost instantaneously heard the silverware drawer (oh, the fears of single motherhood). 

i still embrace these actions embarrassingly, i admit.  When i feel the need arises and i am home alone at night, i go for the cutlery.  Even though at work with a annie oakly-type secretary (complementary statement, wish i had more of that in me) and a comedic boss (bravo) that assures me, if anyone gets close enough for me to use my Pinzon Wenger, well,  i'm a gonner.  I gulp.  Anyway, i talk michelle up and we chat.  i tell her how my daughters are so unique.  she says she wants a gun and lessons on how to use it.  i tell her to take a gun safety course and keep it locked away .  she sincerely "uh-huhs" my suggestions.  then i tell her how sarah and hubby own a Glock and how Sarah made the comment "in this crazy world it's crazy not to have one".  i tell her brit keeps pepper spray close, when she feels the need for protection, because she hates guns and smoke  & loves invisible children.  i tell her i'm not sure of heather's thoughts on gun ownership v. control, but i would imagine she says "freedom to choose" and "don't worry be happy".  Michelle begins to laugh.  Our voices go to lighter funner things. We vow our love and hang up. 

But I feel sad that she is home alone.  I feel equally as sad that I do not know and there's so little I do know of the daughter I speak of whenever I speak of my daughters, that I feel I've tried to pry my way into her life, in some mother-form.  so I settle in for friendship, occasional laughter & nightly prayers.  And I do not and would not complain, because it makes me so very happy to be her friend.  I accept it gladly.  I cherish it.  Sometimes you just gotta go where you belong and be thankful for the spot carved out for you.  Because if the person takes the time to carve that spot, be fortunate the dweller.  She may not own or desire a gun, I do not know.  However, I have no doubt that if anyone threatened the loves around her life -- well, she'd make Mr. Heston look like a sissy.  and I suppose that's enough to know on gun control....and cutlery. 

For life....



If i did nothing else in life and no one noticed my existence, loving him has been enough.



OCRACOKE...RALEIGH

Take me to your.....light

This is the home where the ranger lives!  His neighbor keeps him illuminated.



AND AS YOU ALL KNOW, MY NEIGHBOR LIGHTS MY WORLD



Met Mr. "Raleigh" and his precious wife(made me think of Jackie Kennedy) at the Ocracoke lighthouse.  Approaching with a big smile and booming voice (looked like a cross between Lorne Greene & Marcus Welby), looks at Nate and I and says "You know the song?" My "huh" responds.  He says, more emphatically, "the song, the song" I flash my deer-lighted almonds and he sings out "Jesus is the lighthouse" a lil out of tune.  His wife smiles.  I recognized and laughed my, "yes" and agreed the meaning.  We chatted in the wind.  He was a retired DOT supervisor.  She had urged him here.  He told me about the ponies down the road and that they had currelled them.  I think "currelled" after he said it three times (the charm, I guess) I got it -- corralled -- loved his "Raleigh-drawal" just a little western southerly than mine, just enough to keep my ears on their toes.  As I sifted through this gentleman's laid back dialogue we walked and talked.  As we parted at the end of the walkway the "Raleighs" bid us safe travels.  As I stomped the sand from my shoes I yelled back, "if we do not meet again, we'll see y'all in eternity" assurances passed between us as if all our spirits connected in the ocean's breeze. 

I sit now and smile knowing I will hear Mr. Raleigh's booming voice again in key beneath the beacon we long for -- 'twill be a perfect Fresnel lens. 


________________________________________________
Mr. Raleigh, enjoy, 'til I see you again:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vRRHrFm9GpA&playnext=1&list=PL2782C69D63255148&index=12

CURRITUCK SOUND -- LISTEN

We were going the wrong way looking for the
lighthouse.  Along the way of this path was cool shade.  Not as if we needed it, it was quite cool this day.  We had gone to see the wild mustangs on the beach but the tide was so high even four-wheel drive vehicles turned around.  No local tour guides were going either.  We were wishing we had Morgan's Jeep so we could get it stuck and send him pictures and laugh.  We took this path because we thought there was a sign a while back on the road that said lighthouse.  Maggie doesn't work in the woods on Currituck.  We kept thinking "wouldn't it be kind of hard to miss a lighthouse?"  We were wrong -- on both counts.  The following pictures are what we found on the path and at the end.   

God writes the Gospel not in the Bible alone, but also on trees, and in flowers and clouds and stars.
Martin Luther

A man has made at least a start on discovering the meaning of human life
when he plants shade trees under which he knows full well he will never sit. D. Elton Trueblood 



Once again, we have stumbled on everywhere....with no one in sight.
SOMETIMES IT PAYS TO TAKE CHANCES!