A time to vote

It’s fun to commit to writing what you believe will be the outcome of an event that will happen in just a couple of weeks, with the anticipation that when you read it after the fact, you could have been right, or dead wrong. Of course I’m referring to the US election. Is there anything else currently going on? Yes, there all kinds of polls predicting the outcome but with what happened during the last two US elections I’m not ready to give them my full trust.
At first blush both candidates offer me what I want: change. I’m sure that I’m with 90% of the US population that is unhappy with how things have turned out with the departing administration. And change we are going to get. Either way it goes, this election is bound to be historical. Barack Obama would be the first African-American president and McCain would be the oldest president at the time of taking office, and his VP would be the first woman VP ever.

Digging further, both parties are taking a different approach to reach the minds of the American public. Obama appears to me to be running a campaign that seems more inclusive and with a more positive tone, more positive not only about his opponent but also about the future. McCain looks a little less controlled and making decisions based more on what would get him elected than on his vision for the future. His choice of running mate seemed to have been to attract the disenfranchised women that wanted Hilary Clinton on the ticket. His political tactics have become more and more negative and more about creating fear on his opponent to make himself the obvious choice if you don’t want to pay more taxes or become a socialist nation.

I have to admit that I’m not impressed with the same things that the majority in the country seems to be impressed with. That’s probably why my candidates have not won during the last two elections. Not only I am not looking for a candidate that speaks to me at my level, I’m looking for a candidate that sounds and is smarter than me. Cowboys and plumbers should continue to do their jobs, and if and when I need someone to tend to my cows or to fix my plumbing I would call on them. But for president, I want someone that inspires me, someone that has a world vision grander than what I could propose in my bathtub, someone that does some thinking before acting. To me, being a maverick is a negative qualification for a president, not a positive as its being portrayed.

McCain’s choice of VP, acclaimed as a great “maverick” decision, has been giving the campaign a dangerous turn which makes me feel even less comfortable with their definition of a “true American”. I’ve been to small town America and I’m sure there are very many great Americans there. But I’ve also seen many great Americans that come from the bigger towns in this nation. Americans that fight wars and others that join the Peace Corps. Americans with last names like Martinez, Husain and Wilson. And others like me that were born elsewhere, but believe in America as the land of opportunities, the land where you are accepted even if your country of origin happens to be one of the few remaining communist countries in the world. Try to be from anywhere else, anywhere else in the word and you’ll know what I mean. America, without its long history, has become the great nation it is because, not in spite, of its diversity.

Yesterday I attended my very first political rally ever. Barack Obama paid us a visit and I took the opportunity to show my support. It was perfect for an outdoor rally, a few clouds in the sky, the sun hitting gently as it moved behind the high-rises in downtown Miami, a mild temperature in the high 70s and an energizing crowd. I waited in line for hours. The crowd seemed to be the definition of diversity. Miami being the city with the highest foreign-born population in the US (37%) came out in a true rainbow coalition of kids, young and AARPs, Haitians, Jamaicans, Latinos, Caucasians, African-Americans, and Europeans. The thousands of us were shoulder to shoulder but it felt safe. Parents had taken their children to witness this historical moment, various flags and “Ready for Change” signs were all over. It was truly an experience. I know it would have been easier to see Obama had I stay watching C-SPAM or CNN, but there was no way to translate the experience of being there. At the end, I heard him speak, but can’t claim that I actually saw him. That’s what happens when you are surrounded by so many thousands of supporters. I was so energized that I walked all the way home from downtown Miami. 4 miles over the MacArthur Causeway, but I was walking on clouds.

So, what are my predictions? I don’t know. Like I said before, I don’t feel very trusty about the national polls. It can go either way. My question is, how am I going to feel the morning after? Am I going to feel that we are truly a very inclusive society where race mattered greatly in the past, but it is something that is becoming more and more transparent? Or is it going to be the same feeling as after the last two elections? Either way, it’s not as if freedom-loving AARP Cubans have a lot of choices in the short term, we’ll just have to deal with whatever the outcome.

Today is a nice day to go put in my early vote.

Consolation Prize

With t-shirt and shorts dripping with sea water, I stood in front of the sliding door with my back to the ocean at our beach home in Emerald Isle, NC where we have been for the last two weeks. I was still panting and thirsty to the point that I couldn’t even tell B my story of “the one that got away”.

An hour earlier I had replaced the lure in my fishing rod with one single silver spoon with a 3-prong hook hanging at the end. I walked to the beach as I had done everyday during the last two weeks. We still had a couple hours of sunlight and I was taking a break from all my home repair duties. It was another beautiful and peaceful day at the beach. The weather has been gorgeous since the cold front came last week and this was no day to pass on the opportunity to do a little fishing. I walked to the beach with fishing rod in hand but as usual with no expectations of catching anything. No bucket, no pliers, no rag and no extra bait or lures. During the day there had been quite a number of folks trying their luck fishing but thus far my hooks had not seen any action. It was going to be me and my rod against the ocean.

Once at the edge of the water, I started casting my line onto the surf. I had done this before. It was easy. Little work, but great expectations of enjoying the setting sun, the cool breeze and the peacefulness of this moment. Cast and reel, cast and reel. It was just relaxing. The sea birds were busy fishing but for me it was just cast and reel. Suddenly, something grabbed the other end of my line and I felt a rush of adrenaline down my spine. I jerked on the line to confirm that something was there. It was real. The line pulled strongly and moved with the current toward the West. I spun my reel as fast as I could at the same time that I followed the pull down the beach. I tried to change the angle of the line but couldn’t catch up with it. I continued reeling but whatever it was, kept pulling and swimming with my line. I started to get tired. I tried switching hands but it felt weird to have the rod upside down. I just kept reeling and walking behind my monster.

Fifteen minutes and 150 yards later I was finally perpendicular to the creature of the deep. I could now see the line going straight into the breaking surf and thought it was my chance to give it a strong pull. It wasn’t moving. The creature stopped swimming. Now, I thought, it was just a matter of puling it onto the beach without breaking the line. I walked into the water at the same time as I cranked on the spinner. It felt as if I was trying to move a refrigerator with a nylon string. Instead of a pull, my line simple tensed up to the point that I could send messages to the creature as if I was playing a one string guitar. I pulled on the line, but nothing moved. A few seconds later I felt movement again as if the creature was positioning itself for a battle.

Small finger mullets were jumping out of the water right where my line was going in from the surface. Sea birds tried to dive in to scoop some of the finger mullets but changed their minds at the last minute as if being scared of something just below the surface. I was already tired of holding my position but didn’t want to give up. There was no one else on the beach. I kept looking towards home but I hadn’t been gone long enough to be missed. What should I do? Whom could I ask? The pattern of me reeling and stretching my line followed a few seconds later by a couple of pulls from the creature below continued. I had no tools on me. Even if I wanted to break the line, I couldn’t figure out how. Should I let it take my rod? Would it swim away if I gave it some slack? All these questions and no one to ask for advice. Where was Mike when I needed him? It was hopeless. Maybe the creature would break the line with its teeth. Maybe it will get tired and let me bring it out.

Forty five minutes later, I was thirsty and tired. Nothing was happening. Who wanted it more? Who could wait the longest? I was prepared to bring it home. I could almost taste victory. I thought about how to pull it out. How I was going to handle it without a rag? How was I going to drag it home? No answers, just waiting. I resented the creature for not having shown itself to me. It was a blind battle. It was just me and the shadow. Both pulling on a nylon line, holding on for dear life.
Just as sudden as the whole thing started, my line went lifeless. What happened? It must have cut the line. I was relieved that it was finally over. But disappointed that I was going to walk home empty handed. I reeled in the line and was surprised to see the lure still intact. My line was all twisted but still in one piece. Did this even happen? Had this been a dream? Whatever it was, the creature turned out to be smarter than me. It was free and had been decent enough to return all my equipment.

I walked home, engulfed a snack and drank a gallon of water. After untangling my line, I headed to the beach again to salvage the last few minutes of sunlight. The sea was kind to me this time. Casting the same lure again, after a few tries I caught a 10 inch bluefish which made for a nice dinner that we shared as I told my story of the one that got away and the consolation prize that the sea was kind to give.

A year later...

It's been exactly one year that we uprooted ourselves from Chapel Hill, NC after 26 years there. During the past year we enjoyed six months on Emerald Isle and then six months in Miami Beach. To celebrate the anniversary we are retracing our steps to Chapel Hill and now to Emerald Isle for a few weeks. Well, it's not only the anniversary but I have to come to do the "homeowner thing" and take advantage to visit friends and enjoy the cooler weather.

As usual we've had a variety of weather changes at the beach but after a cold front that arrived with powerful thunderstorms, the mornings have turned crisp and cool, the days sunny and warm and the evenings cold enough to keep the windows closed at night.

The beach water temperature feels in the low 70s but dropping daily. Sitting on a beach chair by the shore I can already see the schools of finger mullets reflecting the sunlight as the waves break. The fish are followed by flocks of terns that dive from time to time and also by families of dolphins that swim past feeding along the way. Everything is lining up for the beginning of the fall fishing season. Unfortunately we don't plan to be here that long but hopefully Mike (our beach neighbor) will get to enjoy the whole season.

365 days ago we were just arriving to Emerald Isle looking forward to our new life of excitement and adventure. We created fond memories of our peaceful time at the beach. The move to South Beach was also filled with excitement for the novelty of everything. Finding Cuban bread and cafecito (Cuban sweet expresso coffee) walking distance from our new place was just priceless. But of course it has not all been smooth sailing down south. We have had to readjust ourselves to living in much tighter quarters, getting used to living within a much larger population density, dealing with valet parking and then the aftermaths of the housing market meltdown and the big economic mess that this has left us with. The job situation has not been any better for me. A few weeks after arriving in Miami I started looking and applying for jobs within a five mile ratio of home. As the weeks passed, I've been increasing the millage ratio to 100s of miles and pretty soon I may have to increase it to nationwide. In the mean time, the time gap in my resume keeps getting larger and my AARP status doesn't seem to be impressing any potential employer. Prospects for employment now seem confined to acquiring a small business or becoming some sort of consultant if I can figure out how to translate what I did before to something that someone may care to listen to.

Still, I'd be very ungrateful if I was complaining. B is still hanging in there as a patient supportive wife. All family members are in good health. My Wachovia ATM card still gives me money after each request. And sharing this time between Miami Beach and Emerald Isle is not a bad combination. So, a year later, life is still smiling my way. If the rest of my years are half as good as this last year was, I'd consider myself a very lucky (AARP) man.

Note: I'll add photos later since I forgot the cable required to transfer the files from camera to computer.