I just may have a bit of a promising post retirement career in the marketing industry. Time will tell.

I usually walk down to the dock before morning coffee to watch the mist rise into a limbo of sunlight and disappear as quickly as it rises. It’s peaceful there, and quiet. 

The water is silent, the docks motionless, and if you’re eyes stay keen, you can almost creep right up on the birds that await their morning sustenance. I was lucky to catch one swooping in for a landing and a breakfast of fresh lizards.

It reminded me that we were to meet Judy and Stoney, friends from Williston. After our morning walk we headed to the Neals as they were taking us to dinner. Charlie’s Fishouse Restaurant in Crystal River was a hit. 

Some of the best seafood that I’ve sampled in Florida. Inexpensive, on the water, pelicans awaiting your every need, and good company made for a great day. 

There was still a bit of daylight remaining after dinner and Judy and Stoney wanted to show us around. We decided a short drive out on the Fort Island Trail leading to the Gulf of Mexico. A good choice as we arrived shortly before the horizon engulfed the setting sun. It was worth the trip out of the way. 

The next day we did find our way to Gainseville to meet up again with Tom and Joan. We had befriended them last winter in Savannah while they were hosting in a park where we camped for two days. Later this summer they were engaged as workampers at Lake In Wood and we re-acquainted with them there. They’ve purchased a house on the outskirts of  Gainesville and have put their fiver on the market, having purchased a class B, in preparation for a few months on the road out West.  The remainder of the week was pretty much dedicated to our daily walks, a bit of work on the dumbbells, some laps in the pool, floating, and espousing personal philosophies to fellow snowbirds. Notice I went from laps in the pool directly to floating. I’m not sure all this “working out”, is working out. Approximately two hours a day are engaged in some sort of physical exertion but much to the dismay of both of us, we’re not acknowleding much of a significant weight loss. We’ll keep trying as it makes us both feel better but the loss of weight is in inverse proportion to our growing age. Dismayed by this lack of girth loss, I decided to make donuts for Sunday church services. I placed the oiled pot on the burner out front. I stepped inside to acquire the dough I already had prepared and punched into donuts and holes. In that 20 second time period a grease fire and flames roaring to the top of the windshield. Robin tartly beckoned my attention. I ran out to hopefully put an end to it while she grabbed for the extinguisher. Much to our dismay the Full indicator wasn’t quite right. Our neighbor saw the commotion and grabbed his as well. It didn’t work either. Thankfully another adjacent camping family came to the rescue with a full bottle of flame retardant but much to my chagrin, the front of the bus as well as the bra is going to have to be replaced.

It wasn’t long after cleanup that Robin had heard young Hunter hollering for his dad that one of the parks’ boats were sinking. We quickly ran down to the dock with buckets and anything that would hold water. 

Joe and his children bailed out the water, C.J. and Stacy held the front of the boat taut at the foreside, while I snapped away at the chaos. The trio had emptied the boat out enough for me to hook up a trailer to my truck and pull Joe and the sinking USS Minnow to shore. Needless to say, church was a bit delayed today.
Lessons learned….1. Enjoy friends and loved ones as if you’ll never see them again….2.Make homemade donuts as far away from the rig as possible….3.Don’t make homemade donuts, go to Walmart or Dunkin’ and buy them….4.When no one gets hurt in an accident, rejoice as the other stuff can be replaced. It’s only money….5 Have several fire extinguishers on hand at all times, locating at least one outside and two at either end of your rig inside.  And now that I know things come in 3′s, I’m wary at what may be next.

For eleven months I would parlay the winding trails of Cambodia’s Quang Tri Province, remaining sightless just off their perimeters, all the while observing movement and transportation of supplies and equipment of the Soviets along with their assistance to the Cambodian rebels. While “in country”, I  was to garner information for recon purposes. When out in the bush, administering to my assignments I would often marvel at the motorcycle and accompanying sidecars traversing the highlands, taking Russian field generals to various supply depots, and criss-crossing adjacent vectors in that Southeastern Asian hellhole. For those eleven months, it was bittersweet at its worst, falling in love with a machine that cavorted Soviet leaders who were eventually marked for erasure, by hidden snipers and our honed marksmanship. The distinct whirr of the air-cooled, four-stroke, flat twin cylinder engines would notify us of their imminent arrival, prompting me to seek cover either in the tallest of trees or well hidden in the brush at subterranean levels. Nevertheless, I fell in love with those cycles and yearned to learn more about the Russian Ural. I knew that if I made it stateside, one day I would possess one of these beauties. And here we are, almost forty years later, and Robin and I are adorning a replica of that original M72. Today its called the M70 and is based on the Retro model. It is painted in olive drab, the sidecar has a machine gun mount and its tonneau cover is made of canvas similar to the one used on the M72. Just like the M72 it also includes a spare wheel and shovel. The tear drop gas tank is decorated with a replica of the first factory badge (circa 1956). The motorcycle features a tractor style seat and luggage rack on the rear fender.

The Ural story begins in 1939, during the USSR’s pre-World War II planning against the German Third Reich. Josef Stalin ordered the military to prepare all areas of operation, including the ground forces that would defend the Russian motherland. The M72 was essentially a copy of a BMW R71, the best sidecar motorcycle of the time. A rugged, all terrain motorcycle, capable of carrying three people and heavy loads, was ideal for mobile troops. Five units were covertly purchased through intermediaries in neutral Sweden and smuggled to Russia. Soviet engineers in Moscow busily dismantled the BMWs. The first M72′s built by the Irbit Factory in the Ural mountains outside Siberia and were sent to the front lines in February of 1942 and were used by the troops in the Battle of Stalingrad.   Over the course of World War II, 9,799 M-72 motorcycles were delivered to the front for reconnaissance detachments and mobile troops.  In the late 1950s,  the Irbit Motorcycle Works (IMZ) began to build Urals for domestic, civilian consumption. The popularity of the outfits grew steadily among Russians, and in the 1960s, the plant was turned over to full non-military production.

This story of the history of the Russian Ural is all true. What is not is the bullshit that I conjured up at the onset of this post to draw your attention. This motorcycle actually belongs to Dawn, whose in-laws live at the end of the river road that Robin and I walk each day on a saunter to points north on the Suwanee River. Dawn was kind enough to allow us to experience the feel of this machine and snapped a photo of us for posterity. I hope you enjoyed this entry.

]]> http://www.gypsylarry.com/2012/01/russian-dream-come-late/feed/ 0 http://www.gypsylarry.com/2012/01/suwanee-day-trips/ http://www.gypsylarry.com/2012/01/suwanee-day-trips/#comments Sun, 08 Jan 2012 13:55:36 +0000 larry http://www.gypsylarry.com/?p=2601 Continue reading »]]> Mornings have been a bit foggy this week. But it soon lifts and the days have been full of sun.

We did experience that cold spell that hit the eastern seaboard but forty-eight hours later it was just a memory. Temps are now back in the mid 70′s.

We christened the first week of the year by boating with Lenny and Mary, Jerry and Barb. We ferried down the Suwanee for half a dozen miles to a new eatery located on its banks. Treasure’s Camp Resturant has recently opened at Fowlers Landing and brings with it that old Florida ambiance.

They also sell gasoline which alleviates any fears of running dry on the next eighteen mile leg to the Gulf. Jerry was kind enough to pick up the tab and my posse was also intrumental in filling the tank.

They felt that the least they could do since we provided the transportation. Remaning days have been interspersed with walking, afternoons spent poolside, learning to make new breads with my kitchen aid mixer that the kids gifted me for Christmas, and a great deal of time commiserating with other campers on anything and everything.

Robin and I took a solo trip down river just yesterday and on the return home were fortuante enough to spot a bald eagle circling us in flight.

Wanting so badly to see it swoop down on some prey, we were eventually rewarded but the focus was a bit wanting.

I know now that no matter the problem with its weight and bulk, the big lens will always accompany me on the river.

We spent some time today making acquaintances with new neighbors. The park is full for the holday weekend but I”m sure by Monday we’ll be two of a handful of visitors remaining. We began our daily walking routine, and then mounted and installed Robin’s new depth finder, a Christmas gift from Ryan and Carolyn. The task took a bit longer than planned as wires needed to be threaded and guided and the massive conglomerationf of more wires under the dash sent my  ming reeling. By mid afternoon, the cover was off the boat and we were backing it into the Suwanee. A mere two cranks of the ignition and she fired right up. Time for the inaugural trip to the pool. The days’a itinery revolved around a private dinner party being hosted by Jerry and Barb. By five thirty, 21 of us trekked to the clubhouse they had rented. We were served family style pork tenderloin, mashed potatoes, green beans, a salad of asparagus and tomatoes, and dinner rolls. All of this was topped with strawberry ladened pudding. What a meal and a great time was had by all. The camaraderie only added to the zest of this fine supper. Some of us topped the evening off with a late night swim in the pool. It was great to see the heat rising from the water, creating is own eerie smoke on the water. The feeling was almost surreal, bobbing in an outdoor pool, well into the evening, on the last day of the year. Not something we could even fathom for most of our lives lived in the mid-Atlantic states. We all resiged to our respective rigs to watch the ball drop and ring in the New Year in our own way.

Everyday I make little choices. Some days they’re a bit more difficult. Periodically, they become major choices that have a greater impact on our lives with the risks and consequences being more severe. In fact, I’m always ranting to my children that as we grow older the most difficult aspect of our lives are the decisions and choices we have to make. As life gets more complicated, our choices become more gut-wrenching. And we make our choices, but then our choices as well, makes us. And we always look back, wondering what if. Should I have done this, should I have done that. And I’m reminded of the quote I learned years ago that regrets are better earned for the things that we did than for those that we never attempted to do. This thought process always causes introspection on my part. And as learned as I have become over the years, the wisdom borne of experience, I still find choices being as difficult as ever. And the wonder causes concern on how I have lived my life. There are still a few days that I contemplate our choice to become fulltime RVers, vaccillating to and fro and always coming to the same conclusion. Which brings me to an article penned some time ago by Bronnie Ware. Bronnie is an Austrailian writer and song composer, former nurse and caregiver who provides inspiration to countless numbers. For many years, she had worked in palliative care. Most of her patients were those who had gone home to die. She was with them for the last weeks of their lives.  People grow a lot when they are faced with their own mortality. Never  underestimate someone’s capacity for growth. When Bronnie would question her patients about any regrets they had or anything they would do differently, common themes surface over and over again. I would like to share with you their most common five:

1. I wish I’d had the courage to live a life true to myself, not the life others expected of me.

This was the most common regret of all. When people realize that their life is almost over and look back clearly on it, it is easy to see how many dreams have gone unfulfilled. Most people had not honored even a half of their dreams and had to die knowing that it was due to choices they had made, or not made.  It is very important to try and honor at least some of your dreams along the way. From the moment that you lose your health, it is too late. Health brings a freedom very few realize, until you no longer have it.

 2. I wish I didn’t work so hard.

This came from every male patient that she nursed. They missed their children’s youth and their partner’s companionship. Women also spoke of this regret. But as most were from an older generation, many of the female patients had not been breadwinners. All of the men deeply regretted spending so much of their lives on the treadmill of a work existence.  By simplifying your lifestyle and making conscious choices along the way, it is possible to not need the income that you think you do. And by creating more space in your life, you become happier and more open to new opportunities, ones more suited to your new lifestyle.

 3. I wish I’d had the courage to express my feelings.

Many people suppress their feelings in order to keep peace with others. As a result, they settle for a mediocre existence and never became who they were truly capable of becoming. Many developed illnesses relating to the bitterness and resentment they carried as a result.  We cannot control the reactions of others. However, although people may initially react when you change the way you are by speaking honestly, in the end it raises the relationship to a whole new and healthier level. Either that or it releases the unhealthy relationship from your life. Either way, you win.

 4. I wish I had stayed in touch with my friends.

Often they would not truly realize the full benefits of old friends until their dying weeks and it was not always possible to track them down. Many had become so caught up in their own lives that they had let golden friendships slip by over the years. There were many deep regrets about not giving friendships the time and effort that they deserved. Everyone misses their friends when they are dying.  It is common for anyone in a busy lifestyle to let friendships slip. But when you are faced with your approaching death, the physical details of life fall away. People do want to get their financial affairs in order if possible. But it is not money or status that holds the true importance for them. They want to get things in order more for the benefit of those they love. Usually though, they are too ill and weary to ever manage this task. It is all comes down to love and relationships in the end. That is all that remains in the final weeks, love and relationships.

 5. I wish that I had let myself be happier.

This is a surprisingly common one. Many do not realize until the end that happiness is a choice. They had stayed stuck in old patterns and habits. The so-called ‘comfort’ of familiarity overflowed into their emotions, as well as their physical lives. Fear of change had them pretending to others, and to their selves, that they were content. When deep within, they longed to laugh properly and have silliness in their life again.

I have had my own regrets and I have second thoughts too numerous to count. But in the end, without the aforementioned knowledge, so far I’m not doing to poorly on my choices.  Life IS a choice. And it is YOUR life. Choose consciously, choose wisely, choose honestly, but choose happiness.

No sooner did we put down that we were invited for dinner to the home of Mike and Gail. They  bookend us with shifts working the grille and counter at Lake in Wood’s famous Gnome Cafe. We had a wonderful time reminiscing and catching up on work gossip since their departure in September. We’ve been together several times since, tooling around the area looking golf courses and vacation homes, wharfs, and unique little shops in an attempt to flirt the day away. We met them at Poo’s in Little River, which has become their famous cuisine haunt and enjoyed fresh flounder, fries, and hushpuppies. Apparently Poo’s has become a regualar Friday stop and we’re finding ourselves doing the same.  Later in the week, more of Lake In Wood’s finest appeared at Willow Tree.  Jerry and Cheryl pulled in for a few days by mid week on their journey to Florida. Again Gail and Mike hosted us all for meatloaf, chicken, homemade mac and cheese, beans, buns, and sweet potatoes. However, Mike’s grilled hors-de-ouvres were the hit of the evening in my opinion. They were sublime. The remainder of the week has been spotted with additional Christmas shopping, photos at the beach, walking and lifting weights, a bit of driving golf balls and generally running around and making deposits to the stations owned by the big oil conglomerates.

We spent two glorious days in their company and they couldn’t have been more gracious hosts. Tom and I traded a site for a photo shoot opportunity, hoping that some of my work could help market the campground for them in the next brochure. We feasted with a small group in the social hall on Thanksgiving leftovers, met some new folks and chatted until the late hours. The next day Robin and I set out for some photo work, explored the campground, made a food run to Walmart. Tom and Nancy have completely turned this campground around for the better. Anyone traveling up and down I 95  needs to mark this as a waypoint. The campground is easy off and on, being a mere 1/2 mile from the interstate. All the sites are flat, graveled, well maintained with aesthetics that are pleasing to the eye. They make you feel as if your royalty when you enter the office and it is in evidence very much that the customers well being is the main tenet of operations here. Saturday night we were hosted at the site of John and Yuko for another round of “tales around the fire”. Hitting me like a Louisville Slugger, it was then I realized again what makes this life so special.  We’ve done it in two dozen states, amid a vast amount of differing flora and foliage, under stars and moonlit skies.

The fire is always brilliant orange and hot, the names of the people are changed from one venue to another but the stories, the laughter, the camaraderie is always “the holy grail” that we seek. Cynthia and Jim joined in and as the stories unfolded I had to laugh at the common thread that ran thoughout every get together by the fire. They’re all the same and yet, each one different. We left amid morning hugs and kisses, Tom and Nancy proving hosts hard to leave. But we’ll return. On our journey north to Christmas with the children, we’ll stop again and spend some time. Thank you, my friends, for just being you.