White Bay, Jost Van Dyke, is one of the most beautiful beaches on the planet. I do not understand why it hasn't hit Samantha Brown's repertoire but it should. Exquisite turquoise water lapping white sand that is soft on your feet and pleasing to the eye. The pelicans swoop down to catch their tasty treats and catamarans swing gently anchored a few yards offshore. Sounds idyllic, doesn't it?
The Soggy Dollar Bar, one of the best beach bars in the Caribbean (won such an award in 2008 and 2009), is situated along the shoreline. Boaters crowd the bay, rain or shine for a swim, for time in the Adirondack chairs, to munch the grilled spicy chicken and to sip the world famous Painkiller concoction served by Mic, the British Virgin Island bartender extraordinaire. Music plays and the ring toss game provides the possibility of athletic prowess for those who wish to be achievers at some point in their day. Sounds perfect and it pretty much is. People are happy at the Soggy Dollar, smiles are part of the uniform - a good time is had by all. As my grandmother would say - if you do not have a good time, it is your own dang fault. (Yes, she would say dang!- Sometimes when she had her dander up it would actually be damn!)
The local residents of White Bay periodically walk through the Soggy Dollar crowd. I wonder what they think. Are they delighted people are having a good time or do they feel invaded by happy feet padding among the Palm Trees? Sometimes they sit among the crowd, sometimes they just keep moving. I wonder if they would like a piece of the pie or if they are content with their way of living. I wonder if they think we are silly with our big yachts, our swinging hips and brightly colored jams. Would they like to be island entrepreneurs or do they want to spend their time in the hammock watching the clouds, birds and us?
I know I would want to compete. I would want to build the best beach bar to rival Soggy. I would spend my days trying to do one better, to determine the niche that would put my place on the map. Make the crowds switch allegiance to the new hot spot. But where would that get me? Not sure anymore. Maybe it is better just to take one day at a time. Not certain that is so cool either.
Individuals far smarter than myself have pondered "smell the roses" question. Is it nurture or nature that causes some to define a quest while others enjoy the ride? Can we blame our parents, our teachers, our siblings, or the bully next door with our viewpoint on life? (I personally think Margaret Leahy making the cheerleading squad in seventh grade and ditching me as a friend because I couldn't do a triple cartwheel has quite a bit to do with my yearnings for measurable success.)
We need to define and be satisfied with our own agendas; we should be not be afraid to examine our choices and change direction. The biggest mistake would be to wake up one morning and say where am I and how did I get here? Especially if it isn't where you want to be.
Monday, February 22, 2010
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Once in a Lifetime
Something I wanted to write on Valentine's Day but didn't. Being a "downer" on the most romantic day of the year would be wrong. Thinking Cupid would probably dose me with something nasty, I abstained but it has been milling in my head so off I scribe.
I had something quite special for more than 34 years. Michael was exceptionally intelligent, quick, funny - the humor was always present and many times used to quell a children's simmering revolt, a business deal gone sour or his spouse's thinking in a different direction. He always had vision, definitely knew where he was going and how he was going to get there. What a ride we had, it was more an adventure than I ever could have imagined.
When one says, it is the journey rather than the destination, that is so true. Michael had absolute goals and determination, his path was well-planned and his goal was in sight. But I was there for more than the ferris wheel, and it wasn't always a day in the park. I wanted what he wanted and he wanted to share it with Jennifer, Meredith and I. When one had twists and turns (and there was some major switchbacks), we did it together, we never faced anything alone.
When traveling, the phone was the main method of communication and it was fully utilized. So much so that Jennifer announced to her nursery school class that her father lived on the train. Since the Connelly clan only had one car, off Michael went to the train, to the plane, to his myriad of business trips, always calling to find out what was happening. Jennifer thinking he was a stand-in for Charley and the MBTA, chatted it up with her Dad. Must have been a good visual in her brain - Dad hanging on the strap with the telephone cord (remember those) extending to the office. I covered the home front, Michael conquered the Cable Industry and we were off to the races. And boy, there was some memorable tracks!
I am glad we shared that adventure. I am glad that we wanted what the other wanted. I am glad that we laughed until tears rolled down our cheeks and snot came blowing out of our noses. I am sad when I see people get bogged down in the details of life. Yes, we had our moments when that happened but I can firmly tell you now that was time wasted. So silly, really. Who Cares? We realized that most of the time and let stupid stuff slide by the wayside. When we went to dinner, we had so much to chat about, that it was never quiet. I see other couples silently sloshing through the meal, and I think, Wow, what a waste.
Always remember what drew you to your other half, never lose sight of the big picture, treasure the moments you have with each other and realize that true joy is realizing a shared dream. At the end of the day, it is not the pretty dress, big house or fancy car that matters, it is what you are to each other.
I had something quite special for more than 34 years. Michael was exceptionally intelligent, quick, funny - the humor was always present and many times used to quell a children's simmering revolt, a business deal gone sour or his spouse's thinking in a different direction. He always had vision, definitely knew where he was going and how he was going to get there. What a ride we had, it was more an adventure than I ever could have imagined.
When one says, it is the journey rather than the destination, that is so true. Michael had absolute goals and determination, his path was well-planned and his goal was in sight. But I was there for more than the ferris wheel, and it wasn't always a day in the park. I wanted what he wanted and he wanted to share it with Jennifer, Meredith and I. When one had twists and turns (and there was some major switchbacks), we did it together, we never faced anything alone.
When traveling, the phone was the main method of communication and it was fully utilized. So much so that Jennifer announced to her nursery school class that her father lived on the train. Since the Connelly clan only had one car, off Michael went to the train, to the plane, to his myriad of business trips, always calling to find out what was happening. Jennifer thinking he was a stand-in for Charley and the MBTA, chatted it up with her Dad. Must have been a good visual in her brain - Dad hanging on the strap with the telephone cord (remember those) extending to the office. I covered the home front, Michael conquered the Cable Industry and we were off to the races. And boy, there was some memorable tracks!
I am glad we shared that adventure. I am glad that we wanted what the other wanted. I am glad that we laughed until tears rolled down our cheeks and snot came blowing out of our noses. I am sad when I see people get bogged down in the details of life. Yes, we had our moments when that happened but I can firmly tell you now that was time wasted. So silly, really. Who Cares? We realized that most of the time and let stupid stuff slide by the wayside. When we went to dinner, we had so much to chat about, that it was never quiet. I see other couples silently sloshing through the meal, and I think, Wow, what a waste.
Always remember what drew you to your other half, never lose sight of the big picture, treasure the moments you have with each other and realize that true joy is realizing a shared dream. At the end of the day, it is not the pretty dress, big house or fancy car that matters, it is what you are to each other.
Sunday, February 14, 2010
No Snowmobiles Allowed
A sense of humor is vital to one's own being. Granted, an individual, or even groups of individuals can exist without an ability to catch a chuckle or four, but the days are dreary and gray - one could even say that it would be similar to living in Siberia or being with a tribe of Investment Bankers. Twilight surrounds you without a glimmer of those brief shining moments. Thank Goodness I am spending my winter in the vortex of gleeful manifestations - St. John's.
For those of you who decided to take a snooze during your elementary school geography lessons (I was seated behind Richard Castageno who had a fabulous sense of humor and let it develop by driving the nuns wild all day long - I was lucky I knew how to spell my name by the eighth grade), let me provide you with a brief synopsis of The Virgin Islands. Millions of years ago, land shot up from the ocean floor creating wonderful water displays that resulted in mountains cascading directly to the sea. The vertical pitch of the Virgin Islands in more than 1,000 ft in zero to three seconds. Readers, that is quite a drop. Four wheel drives are mandatory and the road engineers test your skill by creating hairpin turns at the steepest locations. Party On!
So, every day is test of your driving and dodging ability. My cousins are terrific at dancing with the trucks, tourists and taxis as this trio attempts to make you sweat and ruin your Caneel Bay manicure. A toot on the horn lets you know they are rounding the bend; please sharpen your reflexes - perhaps an investigation of the surrounding foliage as you careen into the side jungle is in your future. So far, so good - I haven't investigated the roots of the banana tree but every day is a new adventure. One of my future goals is to be closer to nature - this may be my chance.
But, wait, the roads were constructed to provide drivers with comic relief. Truly, St. John's traffic department wants to lighten your day. On the street to Jerry and Tish's house is an official sign indicating No Snowmobiles Allowed. No kidding, it is an authorized 8 x 10 white metal glossy warning drivers not to wander the streets as if in the tundra. While they may be lurking in the rainforest, no worries about frozen mobilers lurching into the stream of jeeps and semis.
How reassuring that snowmobiles will not be crowding the paved mountain passes. It is even better to realize the traffic department is giggling while instructing us to lighten up and enjoy the day.
For those of you who decided to take a snooze during your elementary school geography lessons (I was seated behind Richard Castageno who had a fabulous sense of humor and let it develop by driving the nuns wild all day long - I was lucky I knew how to spell my name by the eighth grade), let me provide you with a brief synopsis of The Virgin Islands. Millions of years ago, land shot up from the ocean floor creating wonderful water displays that resulted in mountains cascading directly to the sea. The vertical pitch of the Virgin Islands in more than 1,000 ft in zero to three seconds. Readers, that is quite a drop. Four wheel drives are mandatory and the road engineers test your skill by creating hairpin turns at the steepest locations. Party On!
So, every day is test of your driving and dodging ability. My cousins are terrific at dancing with the trucks, tourists and taxis as this trio attempts to make you sweat and ruin your Caneel Bay manicure. A toot on the horn lets you know they are rounding the bend; please sharpen your reflexes - perhaps an investigation of the surrounding foliage as you careen into the side jungle is in your future. So far, so good - I haven't investigated the roots of the banana tree but every day is a new adventure. One of my future goals is to be closer to nature - this may be my chance.
But, wait, the roads were constructed to provide drivers with comic relief. Truly, St. John's traffic department wants to lighten your day. On the street to Jerry and Tish's house is an official sign indicating No Snowmobiles Allowed. No kidding, it is an authorized 8 x 10 white metal glossy warning drivers not to wander the streets as if in the tundra. While they may be lurking in the rainforest, no worries about frozen mobilers lurching into the stream of jeeps and semis.
How reassuring that snowmobiles will not be crowding the paved mountain passes. It is even better to realize the traffic department is giggling while instructing us to lighten up and enjoy the day.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Reinin' It In
Here in the land of sun and white beaches, one sees bathing suits - and the bodies inside them all the live long day.
The clever fabric configurations or lack thereof are especially visible at that Mecca of crafted bodies and beautiful people, The Soggy Dollar Bar on Jost Van Dyke. On the beach, on the boats moored in White Bay, at the bar, eating lunch, playing the ring toss game - picture perfect molded beings providing a panoramic view. It is enough to make one consider a change of religious affiliation - making the burka the wardrobe of choice. Certainly, one explores all avenues of food restriction - from gastric bypass to clamping one's mouth shut with super glue.
Thank goodness the wonders of modern communication have saved me from all extreme measures. TV has found my salvation. It is called Finefit and is a body stocking made of Bamboo. The infomercial was quite educational. Took one from the strength of the bamboo tree to how it is woven into the garment. The selling point for me was the before and after pictures of people wearing the garment. Extreme muffin tops, bellies hanging out, hips and legs filled with cellulite, complete with jiggling the excess flab - not to mention a poke or two. But once stuffed into your exquisite Finefit garment, the Sports Illustrated cover is in your future.
So, bring on the Cajun Fries and the Graeter's complete with bittersweet sauce, Finefit eliminates the need for those nasty treadmills or stair steppers.
Best news, bamboo floats. Your personal raft for White Bay at the Soggy Dollar. Makes one happy to be a woman.
The clever fabric configurations or lack thereof are especially visible at that Mecca of crafted bodies and beautiful people, The Soggy Dollar Bar on Jost Van Dyke. On the beach, on the boats moored in White Bay, at the bar, eating lunch, playing the ring toss game - picture perfect molded beings providing a panoramic view. It is enough to make one consider a change of religious affiliation - making the burka the wardrobe of choice. Certainly, one explores all avenues of food restriction - from gastric bypass to clamping one's mouth shut with super glue.
Thank goodness the wonders of modern communication have saved me from all extreme measures. TV has found my salvation. It is called Finefit and is a body stocking made of Bamboo. The infomercial was quite educational. Took one from the strength of the bamboo tree to how it is woven into the garment. The selling point for me was the before and after pictures of people wearing the garment. Extreme muffin tops, bellies hanging out, hips and legs filled with cellulite, complete with jiggling the excess flab - not to mention a poke or two. But once stuffed into your exquisite Finefit garment, the Sports Illustrated cover is in your future.
So, bring on the Cajun Fries and the Graeter's complete with bittersweet sauce, Finefit eliminates the need for those nasty treadmills or stair steppers.
Best news, bamboo floats. Your personal raft for White Bay at the Soggy Dollar. Makes one happy to be a woman.
Manhattan South
Life happens at a different pace in the Virgin Islands. One often reads about "Island Ways", about seeing things from a different perspective, about taking things one step at a time realizing that one step does not necessarily follow another. As a visiting New Yorker, it causes me to smile - only because I am not greatly affected by the meanderings that come to define daily life.
The Mail Center is one of my favorites. More efficient than the Post Office, it is the center of Island business transactions. Faxes, letters, packages, boxes - all handled from a suite that is constantly under construction. Varying sizes of Priority Mail Boxes line the display with numerical markings making it easier for the customer to indicate the size needed. As one winds through the store and construction area waiting for assistance, one has ample opportunity to memorize the number indicating the exact box. Proud of my ability to retain information (no matter how small), when my tour of the environs came to an end, I stated I needed a #2 size carton. The lady quizzically looked at me - what? You know, the #2 US Priority Mail Carton - Oh well, out came a box labeled Christmas Lights and away we stuffed. Hope the recipient doesn't think it is last year's decorations gone astray when the item arrives at its destination.
The Grocery Store is another hub of activity. Named Starfish (Same owner as the Boston Star Markets. Star - Fish - clever, don't you think?), it is filled with tempting treats. Strawberries for $9.00, Progresso Soups for $3.69 - thank goodness that Coca-cola sees the light and is approximately the same as in the States. Artificial syrup and carbonation available for all. But what I love best is that the check-out area is the opportunity to catch up with old friends, run back to retrieve missing items - perhaps a dozen times and debate if another piece of fish is necessary for tonight's dinner.
New Yorkers are forced to learn the error of their past lives and have the ability to repent. Smile, converse with those around you about the beautiful weather, the best beaches (prefect timing - send the blog as you are being submerged in an avalanche of the white stuff) and whether to go to ZoZo's to watch the sunset. Tough stuff.
No wonder no one minds eating pears, foregoing the strawberries and winding among the boxes to mail a package. If it doesn't arrive - oh well, Christmas lights are not a big Valentine item.
The Mail Center is one of my favorites. More efficient than the Post Office, it is the center of Island business transactions. Faxes, letters, packages, boxes - all handled from a suite that is constantly under construction. Varying sizes of Priority Mail Boxes line the display with numerical markings making it easier for the customer to indicate the size needed. As one winds through the store and construction area waiting for assistance, one has ample opportunity to memorize the number indicating the exact box. Proud of my ability to retain information (no matter how small), when my tour of the environs came to an end, I stated I needed a #2 size carton. The lady quizzically looked at me - what? You know, the #2 US Priority Mail Carton - Oh well, out came a box labeled Christmas Lights and away we stuffed. Hope the recipient doesn't think it is last year's decorations gone astray when the item arrives at its destination.
The Grocery Store is another hub of activity. Named Starfish (Same owner as the Boston Star Markets. Star - Fish - clever, don't you think?), it is filled with tempting treats. Strawberries for $9.00, Progresso Soups for $3.69 - thank goodness that Coca-cola sees the light and is approximately the same as in the States. Artificial syrup and carbonation available for all. But what I love best is that the check-out area is the opportunity to catch up with old friends, run back to retrieve missing items - perhaps a dozen times and debate if another piece of fish is necessary for tonight's dinner.
New Yorkers are forced to learn the error of their past lives and have the ability to repent. Smile, converse with those around you about the beautiful weather, the best beaches (prefect timing - send the blog as you are being submerged in an avalanche of the white stuff) and whether to go to ZoZo's to watch the sunset. Tough stuff.
No wonder no one minds eating pears, foregoing the strawberries and winding among the boxes to mail a package. If it doesn't arrive - oh well, Christmas lights are not a big Valentine item.
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
Sitting On the Dock of the Bay
Sitting on the top of the Bay - close enough to the dock - causes me to reflect on the finer points of life.
Here I am in one of the most beautiful spots on earth - St. John's, Virgin Islands. Sun is shining, trade winds are creating a gentle comfort and the view is a spectacular panorama of Chocolate Bay, Cruz Bay and St. Thomas in the distance.
Not only physical beauty surrounding me, but the true kindness of loved ones pervades from my perch.
I am with my cousin and his wife for the next three months. Just typing the sentence causes me to wonder about my rational behavior and the lack thereof. How about if your cousin emailed you and said, I am considering coming to visit for an extended period? Whew - would take a few moments to recover from that missive - don't you think!? Granted, these are my kissing cousins but how much of an additional being in your life would be appropriate? Think the delete button would be close at hand and, if a follow-up email ever came across the laptop, lost in cyberspace would be the cry.
It all started at a niece's wedding last July. Gathering with cousins, having a wonderful time, hearing about life in the Virgin Islands, caused my nuclear and extended family to begin the discussion of how wonderful it would be for Anne to try her hand at Island Living. Perfect for enabling me to set the next chapter and formulate a new plan. Something a wee bit stronger than organizing my Nancy Drew's and Florence Nightingale's in alpha and color order. (A childhood Saturday activity - scary,I know) Over the Fall months, the underground current, known as the family grapevine, continued. So, I tested Jerry and Tish's (cousin and his wife) cardiac strength and sent the notification,(calling it anything else would be less than true) otherwise known as inviting oneself.
My cousin, his wife and their family are fun, fun, fun. They put the P in positive. They own several businesses in St. John's and a most eclectic and relatively famous bar in Jost Van Dyke, The Soggy Dollar. The Bar's moniker evolved since the only method of approaching the center of The Painkiller (a wickedly delightful alcoholic concoction) universe is by boat. Once close, moor the boat, jump into the water and swim to one of the most beautiful beaches ever witnessed. More on the Soggy Dollar in future notings. (or nothings - depending on your point of view)
So, off I wrote, requesting admittance to this isle of coral reefs and kindness, with the caveat that I would be put to work. Surprisingly, the most welcoming response came almost immediately. They could not have been more warm in their reception, both in their communications and their response since Monday's arrival. I am sitting at the Top of the Bay, so grateful that good people are a part of my life.
I know that I can never contribute to their lives what they have given to mine - even if I came up with a golden opportunity. Jerry and Tish have ideas a mile a minute and experiences that reflect thoughtful action on the ideas. Makes one excited just listening to the possibilities. Their minds work so fast that I am unclear what I can add to the equation but I am delighted to listen, think of how I can be part of the equation and provide some sort of labor somewhere.
I do know that they have added to mine. Opening their door, welcoming me, adding a smile to my day. How many people do you know who have the generosity of spirit to be so magnanimous? It is true, Mean People Suck but Good People Rock.
When someone says to have a good day - they must have met Jerry and Tish.
Here I am in one of the most beautiful spots on earth - St. John's, Virgin Islands. Sun is shining, trade winds are creating a gentle comfort and the view is a spectacular panorama of Chocolate Bay, Cruz Bay and St. Thomas in the distance.
Not only physical beauty surrounding me, but the true kindness of loved ones pervades from my perch.
I am with my cousin and his wife for the next three months. Just typing the sentence causes me to wonder about my rational behavior and the lack thereof. How about if your cousin emailed you and said, I am considering coming to visit for an extended period? Whew - would take a few moments to recover from that missive - don't you think!? Granted, these are my kissing cousins but how much of an additional being in your life would be appropriate? Think the delete button would be close at hand and, if a follow-up email ever came across the laptop, lost in cyberspace would be the cry.
It all started at a niece's wedding last July. Gathering with cousins, having a wonderful time, hearing about life in the Virgin Islands, caused my nuclear and extended family to begin the discussion of how wonderful it would be for Anne to try her hand at Island Living. Perfect for enabling me to set the next chapter and formulate a new plan. Something a wee bit stronger than organizing my Nancy Drew's and Florence Nightingale's in alpha and color order. (A childhood Saturday activity - scary,I know) Over the Fall months, the underground current, known as the family grapevine, continued. So, I tested Jerry and Tish's (cousin and his wife) cardiac strength and sent the notification,(calling it anything else would be less than true) otherwise known as inviting oneself.
My cousin, his wife and their family are fun, fun, fun. They put the P in positive. They own several businesses in St. John's and a most eclectic and relatively famous bar in Jost Van Dyke, The Soggy Dollar. The Bar's moniker evolved since the only method of approaching the center of The Painkiller (a wickedly delightful alcoholic concoction) universe is by boat. Once close, moor the boat, jump into the water and swim to one of the most beautiful beaches ever witnessed. More on the Soggy Dollar in future notings. (or nothings - depending on your point of view)
So, off I wrote, requesting admittance to this isle of coral reefs and kindness, with the caveat that I would be put to work. Surprisingly, the most welcoming response came almost immediately. They could not have been more warm in their reception, both in their communications and their response since Monday's arrival. I am sitting at the Top of the Bay, so grateful that good people are a part of my life.
I know that I can never contribute to their lives what they have given to mine - even if I came up with a golden opportunity. Jerry and Tish have ideas a mile a minute and experiences that reflect thoughtful action on the ideas. Makes one excited just listening to the possibilities. Their minds work so fast that I am unclear what I can add to the equation but I am delighted to listen, think of how I can be part of the equation and provide some sort of labor somewhere.
I do know that they have added to mine. Opening their door, welcoming me, adding a smile to my day. How many people do you know who have the generosity of spirit to be so magnanimous? It is true, Mean People Suck but Good People Rock.
When someone says to have a good day - they must have met Jerry and Tish.
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