New Beginnings ~

It's morning again in America on this post-election day, an historic one indeed. While Obama was not My Man, I see much value in his election whether or not I agree with some (or most) of his policies. I think the time had come for the GOP to surrender the reins to the party that thinks it has all the answers, and we'll see how or whether they deliver. And the election of an Afr-Am is a truly heartening development; I just wish it could've been Condi Rice, for example.

It's also a New Beginning for my blogging activities, inasmuch as AOL unceremoniously pulled the plug on theirs as of three minutes before I walked back in Greystone's front door at 12:03am Friday night. I'd received their warning shortlyafter we left on the cruise, telling me that unless I transferred my account to Blogspot.com, all previous blogs -- three year's worth, in my case -- would evaporate into the ozone. Probably a merciful result, in the end, and despite my frantic efforts at a couple of internet cafes abroad, I was unable to get the Blog Migration to work. So poof!, all the old stuff is gone. Buh-bye. And thanks fer nuthin', AOL.

And today is the double birthday of Brother Dwight and his daughter Carolyn Dubois! Woo hoo! I always know how old Carolyn is because her birthday came the week after I met Miss Marie Bouknight and my adventures in taking care of young Jennifer Allen while Dwight & Robin left D's birthday dinner celebration for the hospital and Carolyn's arrival was one of the first stories I related to Miss Bouknight at our next encounter at Foundry choir. So Happy 38th, Carolyn! (Dwight is now old as dirt and so we won't mention his age here.)

Our trip home from Greece was a 23-hour door-to-door marathon with the usual glitches; they lost M's suitcase, for example, and we had a wild goose chase at EWR trying to find the gate for our last flight leg. But we arrived safe and sound to find Greystone as we left it (cleaner, actually, thanks to having had a lady come in the day we arrived) and our brains full of happy memories.

I also arrived with the head-n-chest cold that hit on Thursday and I'm only now beginning to get out from under it. It's probably the same bug M (and half the ship) had and I'm very grateful I got it as the curtain came down on the trip. The most interesting consequence of this will be played out tonight, however, as the Three Jolly Coachmen are doing a benefit concert at the Club tonite for the Grove Community Center, an outstanding local charity (and the one to which we donated the Explorer). We rehearsed last eve and I was beset from time to time by uncontrollable coughing fits. I think our portion of the program may be limited to maybe three to six songs rather than the usual 15-20 we do and so I believe I can get thru it with the good Lord's grace.

Of course it's been wonderful to talk to the kidz again and catch up on their doings. Dr Brado et famille are enjoying their very first family Disneyworld trip this week; Rew and Corelyn are celebrating Corelyn's great new job which she'll start next week; and Caroline has been enjoying her usual smorgasbord of Social Engagements and challenging assignments at work.

Another New Beginning is the thinned herd in the GWA Motor Pool, which has shrunk from six to three in the last six weeks. Gone to auction were the venerable Rolla and the latest ('02) HNDYCAM; Caroline's beloved XPLR, as mentioned, went to Grove and then to a woman who needed a big vehicle to haul herself to work and her family around. I felt like I was kicking kids utta the nest but had to admit that six cars for three drivers made little sense. Left standing are TRVLONN and, somewhat surprsiningly, the '04 Chevy Venture minivan that I thought I was buying just for wedding transportation purposes. But when the Xplr flunked inspection and both M and I had noted how handy it is to have a van around again, I decided to slap a hitch on it and keep it. (The third car, of course, is the Bavaria, which remains slumbering in Benign Neglect in the garage for now, its future perhaps more uncertain than previously.)

This morning I have a Club committee meeting, and another tomorrow that I'm chairing. As I think I noted, I decided not to run for a three-year Board term when my current appointment expires on January 1st, for a variety of reasons, none of which reflect negatively on the experience I've had. If the Club overhaul initiative passes I may well run again in future years; for now I've delivered up a guy I recruited to take my place that I feel real good about.

Monday eve M&I were driving home from some errands and as we came out Monticello Rd, came upon several cars and a motorcycle stopped by the road; there were mechanical pieces all over the road. As I pulled over I noted what was left of a second motorcycle lying on its side on the shoulder, headlight still blazing, its front wheel gone and bodywork scattered all around. Not good. I figured as a biker I should at least stop to make sure help was on the way.

I got out and asked a black guy about my age who had also stopped what was going on and whether there was anything I could do. "That lady up there in that first car apparently hit this bike," he said. I looked up and down the road and the people standing around for somebody with a helmet, either erect or otherwise; there were two motorcycles there, after all.

"Where's the rider of this one?" I asked, nodding my head towards the pitiful remains of what had been maybe a 600cc-class sportbike.

"He's gotta be over there," my friend said, gesturing off into the blackness beyond the Armco barrier that bordered this gentle bend in the road. "I just don't have the stomach for it, to go looking."

My own knees weakened as I devoutly wished Dr Brado were at hand. In the breeze I wondered if I had just heard a faint moan from over in the darkness. I thought about climbing over the barrier and looking, and evaluated what I could do if and when I found the rider. Nothing from a triage point of view; unlike my son, I have zero tolerance for physical injury/mayhem and know only enough to not do anything when untrained. Could I say a comforting word, or would I wind up gagging?

I looked down the road towards the fire/rescue station, only about a mile distant, and decided it would be more prudent to leave the SAR tasks to the guys paid to do it. Determined not to hang around as a looky-loo, I got in the car and drove off; we passed the crash wagon going the other way in about 30 seconds. That made me feel a little better, but not much.

There's been nothing in the local paper or news, so heopefully the results weren't as bad as I feared. Hopefully the fallen rider will have some new beginings himself.

No thanks to me, though.