Papi's Trips

noreply@blogger.com (Grover Thomas Jr.) — Thu, 26 Nov 2009 11:30:00 +0000

HAPPY THANKSGIVING TO ALL OF YOU AND TO ALL THE MISSING BEES!

There has been much speculation lately as to where the Bees have gone. Today, as we get up this morning to celebrate this special holiday, I have great news. I have found the answer to where the bees have gone.

But first, since it is Thanksgiving, I want to thank all my friends, my family and all the people that I don't even know who read my Blog from different parts of the world. I write because I like to write and even though I do not do it very well, I get enormous enjoyment out of doing it.

As most of our family gathered last night at our home to celebrate Grover's birthday and to chow down on Turkey Chili followed by Blackberry Crackle and ice cream, I looked over at the table and saw how thankful I am for such a great family. I wish Gustavo, Dorte and the twins could have been with us and of course I wish my Mom was well enough to come celebrate with us along with my brother Steve and his wife Judie.

But even though they weren't here, I am as thankful that they are apart of my life as I am of the 9 of us gathered together last night. I am sure there will be a photo later on Andrea's Blog as she was the photographer last night.

I am SO, SO blessed in my life and have so, so, so much to be thankful for. In addition to my wonderful family, I have been fortunate to make friends all over the world and also to see a very large part of the world. And so to all of you, even though many of you do not celebrate Thanksgiving the way it is done here, I wish the very best for all of you and give thanks that you have been a part of my life.

And now back to the Bees.

I woke up at 530 this morning and we are going over to have a family breakfast in a couple of hours at Andrea and Lee's home. I was too hungry to wait so I decided to have some berries. I had purchased a box of Driscoll's Raspberries from Fresh Market in Atlanta.

I got out my bowl, napkin and spoon. I took the carton of raspberries out of the refrigerator.

> I popped open the sealed, plastic top and imagine my surprise at what I saw. The answer to where the Bees are going.

I was not happy. Berries and Bees in your Bran at 6am is not my idea of a healthy breakfast.

noreply@blogger.com (Grover Thomas Jr.) — Tue, 24 Nov 2009 14:19:00 +0000

HAPPY BIRTHDAY GROVER!!

Today is my son Grover's birthday. I will save both of us the pain by not saying which birthday it is.

Much has happened in life since he was born in Tulsa, Oklahoma a few decades ago. We were so poor we had to get a six month loan at a bank to buy $50 worth of tires a few months before he was born. But a week after we brought him home from the hospital, I went out and spent $35 on an electric train engine for him for Christmas. I am not sure why I thought he would be playing with it when he was a month old, but he was my first child and so his world was as new to me as it was to him.

Now he is a well educated, hard charging, constantly working executive at a consulting company with two wonderful boys, Landon and Wes, shown in the photo of the four of us above. We were standing at a geyser in Yellowstone a couple of months ago and it was not quite as cold as it looks in this photo.

He has been working in California the last week or so and I think he is still there today so he probably won't see this until later, but tomorrow he will be with the rest of us to celebrate not only Thanksgiving, but his birthday.

I am very proud of what he has accomplished in getting his education and in his career. There is a certain comfort a Father has when he sees his son doing well and he knows he never has to worry about how he will do career wise.

He is a man of unlimited curiosity about things. He has been a passionate aficionado over the years of soccer, golf, fly fishing, biking, scuba diving, beer making, mastering the Rubix cube, complex mathematics, bowling, music, cooking and dozens more. That curiosity appeared early when as a child he was always taking things apart to see how they worked. He usually couldn't them back together and I was never of any help in that regard, but it showed this intense desire he has to understand how things work.
Grover learning how a phone worked, so long ago (as you can tell from the modern electronics in the background)

Grover, I love you and am glad we will see you tomorrow and for a couple of days after that. I will see you at Atlanta Hartsfield tomorrow afternoon, along with several million other passengers.

Happy Birthday Grove!

Love, Dad

noreply@blogger.com (Grover Thomas Jr.) — Thu, 19 Nov 2009 19:01:00 +0000

HAPPY 94TH BIRTHDAY MOM!

Yesterday was my Mom's 94th birthday. I was on a plane much of the day flying to Atlanta from the West Coast so I am just posting this today. But last week, in between attending a Board meeting in Ft. Worth and a Board meeting in Davis, California, I was able to fly to Phoenix and spend a day with Mom, celebrating her 94th birthday a week early.

Yesterday, Andrea mentioned in her tribute to my Mom, how much has changed for Mom since her 90th birthday celebration we shared with her in Atlanta just four years ago.

Mom enjoying good food and good wine on her 90th Birthday, November, 2005

Those of you that have been reading my Blog for a while know what she has been through. Three years ago I went to see her for her birthday and I shared the photo below with all of you. She was living independently in an apartment house filled with young people, driving her friends all over town in her Sexy Lexie, the Lexus we had given her, and just enjoying life as if she was 50 instead of about to turn 91.

Mom on the patio of her apartment, November, 2006, one year after her 90th party

During the next year, she broke her back in a freaky accident and decided, on her own, that it was time to move into an Assisted Living facility. Then two years ago when I was with her to celebrate her birthday I wrote this posting about her. I also posted the photo below of her, happy as always (despite the back brace she was in) as she hung her fall wreath on the door of her Assisted Living apartment.

A few months later things went downhill rapidly. She had a stroke while recovering from her broken neck, right about the time her back was improving and she had started driving her car again. We had to move her to Phoenix to a rehab facility and while there she realized she should probably not return to Kingman, her home for nearly six decades. In making that decision, she knew she was leaving behind the hundreds of friends she had there.

One year ago, while recovering in the rehab facility, we snuck in a bottle of Asti Spumante (her favorite) and toasted her 93rd birthday, believing that it was her last birthday. I wrote about her in this posting . And below is a photo of the two of us at that time a year ago.

Mom and me on her 93rd birthday in November, 2008 at the Rehab facility

In the last year, I have told her "goodbye forever" four different times. Some of you will recall the pain I expressed in January of this year when I was sure I would never see my Mom again. We said our final farewll as we left her to go to the funeral of my Mother-in-law who had passed away on the very day we were saying goodbye to my Mom. I wrote about it again in February after she broke her neck in a fall. Then I wrote a real tear jerker in March and again in April while she was in Hospice. Finally,I was able to write about her by last June in a more positive way as I had accepted that she was on her final journey and it was during a visit that month that we agreed to stop saying the tearfilled "forever goodbyes".

During the early part of this year, Mom went into Hospice, stopped eating for 37 days so she could pass away and when that didn't work she somehow or other improved (no one knows how) to the point where they asked her to leave Hospice. Since that time she has moved to a much better facility and the last few times I have seen her we have both agreed just to say "See you next time" with a laugh and to stop saying these forever goodbyes. And that is what I did (along with wishing her Happy Birthday) last Wednesday when I was with her.

When I was there last week, I told her: "Mom, last year on your birthday I could not imagine you would make it to your 94th birthday." She laughed and said "Well, the same goes for me but I still have a week left to not wake up one morning before I turn 94".

I then told her: "At the rate you are going we may celebrate your 97th or 98th birthday" to which she replied "Oh my God, I sure hope not. Certainly not if I have anything to say about it". She still has her sense of humor.

So I finish this post by telling the world again, as I have told her so many times, that I love her more than words can express, that I am who I am because of her, and that she continues to be my role model and inspiration. When I was with her last week I told her about the crazy trip I had taken to Portugal and back two weeks ago and she said "Good for you. Keep it up as it is who you are and it keeps you young." That is what I mean when I say she is my inspiration.

Below is a photo that I want to close with. The photos I have shown above show the toll the last four years have taken on her since her 90th birthday, especially the last year. But you can also see she still looks darn good for someone who has been through so much. And this last photo is one I like-the two of us, celebrating my First Birthday, so many years ago. We looked at it together last week and both had a great laugh, as is almost always the case when I am with her.

Note the one constant in all the photos. She is always smiling. That is my Mom.

Happy Birthday Mom!

noreply@blogger.com (Grover Thomas Jr.) — Wed, 04 Nov 2009 18:58:00 +0000

DO I OVERCOMMIT?

This is a question I often ask myself and there are a number of people that ask me that. I thought I’d take the period from October 29th through November 6th and dissect it and see what we can learn from it.

Last Thursday, we flew five and a half hours out to San Francisco from Atlanta to attend a two hour reception. Then we drove back to the San Francisco airport area, grabbed a sandwich from Panera, checked into the hotel, went to bed and got up at 4:30 am to fly the five and a half hours back to Atlanta. Fortunately the wind was with us and it took a little less than five hours.

We arrived back home Friday evening and it was a nice Halloween weekend (other than the rain) and by Sunday night I was recharged. Monday morning I got up at 4:30 am to catch an early flight to Chicago for a lunch appointment. Then I went to the office for meetings from 2pm until 5pm and then we had a Board committee meeting until 8:30pm.

Back to the hotel and to bed by 11pm as I wanted to get up at 3am to help adjust to the time zone of the next part of my week. I managed to drag myself out of bed at 3:30 and did the unending emails, thought about writing on my Blog, went to the Fitness Center at 4:30 am for an hour (there were not a lot of people there), and had some breakfast while chatting with Francisco, a guy from Mexico City who I have gotten to know over the years. When you and the waiter at the hotel know each other and all about your families, one could suggest you are spending too much time in this hotel.

I drove to the airport, turned in the rental car and checked in at Delta. As I went through security, the TSA person wouldn’t let me take a small bag that had only a pillow in it as it meant I had two carry-ons and my "personal" item, which was my briefcase. Of course I do it all the time but she was in charge so this time she was going to enforce the rules. I had a quick vision of her being my new government Doctor in a couple of years by the time Witch Nancy and Nutcase Harry get done wrecking our health care system.

So, right in front of her I took the pillow out, took the small empty bag and put it in my big bag, sealed it up and walked back up to her, now with only two visible bags and the pillow in my hand and she said “That’s better”. I had the same amount of carry-on but now it was okay. Our tax dollars at work.

I caught an 11:40 flight to JFK on one of these tiny commuter planes and we actually landed early. Then I learned I had to exit the terminal I was in, go outside, walk a while with my two bags and a pillow down to another terminal and check in with security again. Security is always fun when you have an artificial knee. Every single time, without exception they pull me out, put me in their little box and have someone who is now trying to complete his third day on the job come and wand me all over and feel me up.

I went to the Air France lounge and devoured two sandwiches and two large bottles of water, made a couple of calls and got in the plane. I was going to follow my typical regimen for flying to Europe. I was going to take an Ambien the minute I got on (4pm) and sleep the next 8 hours so until I arrived in Paris at midnight (but 6am their time), I felt then I would be ready to roll for the day.

I forgot to take the Ambien when I got on the plane and the next thing I knew they were serving dinner. I had been reading some stuff for a meeting and didn’t realize we had taken off, which is odd only because I think it is the first time in 20 years I have not been asleep on takeoff. So I passed on the dinner and thought I would do emails for a little while and then crash.

It is now 11pm and I have been on the plane for seven hours doing nothing but answering emails other than the ten minutes I have typed on this. We are landing nearly an hour early due to the strong tail winds, so it will be about 5:15 am in Paris when I get off and traipse around Charles de Gaulle airport.

LATER

I cleared customs and then walked about 10 miles to the other terminal where my flight was leaving from. After going through security again, we all got on a bus that was going to take us to our Air France plane to Lisbon. Nearly everyone was speaking French, not such a surprise I guess. Pourquoi je comprend le francais un peu, I was intently listening to everyone’s conversation. Of course to most of us Americans, the French language sounds so sensual, saucy and sexy that we assume they are talking about sex when they are talking about buying turnips at the market.

But in this case, as I deftly translated in my mind all the conversations, I was struck by what an incredible coincidence it was that all the women were saying things like “Look at that American guy in the orange striped shirt. He is really hot”. I might not have the translation exactly right, but you get the idea.

Now I am typing this while on the way to Lisbon, my final destination for the day. I will get to the hotel and since I will have been up 24 plus hours straight, I will hit the bed after setting the alarm on the PC, the alarm on my phone, the alarm in the room and leaving a wake up call with the front desk for a 1:30 pm wake up call because at 2 pm Lisbon time I have a conference call for an hour for a Board I am on in New York. So, 3 and a half hours sleep, the conference call and then I am going to go wander around the town for a couple of hours and wake up. I would mention the name of the town but I have never heard of it and don’t remember the name. Fortunately someone is meeting me at the airport so I don’t have to know where I am going.

Now, why did I go through this Atlanta/Chicago/JFK/Paris/Lisbon marathon? Am I going to spend some time here in Portugal? Am I going to do a tour of their Port houses? Will I sit in an outdoor café and drink crisp and cool Albarinho wine?

No. I came over here to have dinner with two guys at 8:00 tonight and then to get up at 6am tomorrow and drive 2 hours north to spend the day with 3 young guys who are each 33 years of age who have created this incredible company that I have agreed to get involved helping them with.

Then we are going to drive 2 hours back to wherever I am staying, have dinner again until about 11pm, go to bed and get up at 430 the next morning so the car can pick me up at 530 and get me to the Lisbon airport. This means that less than 48 hours from now I will head back home, flying from Lisbon, to Paris, to Newark and then to Atlanta, arriving there Friday night, a mere 21 and a half hours after my wake up call in Lisbon.

So, to return the question “DO I OVERCOMMIT?”

No. Never. Never. Never. Never. Never. Never. (I learned how to do the words like that from Alice)

EVEN LATER

Things don’t always work out as planned. I arrived in Lisbon on time and it was raining like crazy. As I was walking through customs I realized I didn’t even know what city I was going to. This was all set up by the people here with my assistant and while I had seen the name of the place in an email, I hadn’t paid any attention. So I was sure hoping the driver would be there.

And he was. His name is Vitor and he told me it would be a half hour trip normally but due to the rain it might take a little longer. It took 2 hours and 45 minutes so I got to know Vitor and all about his school teacher wife and his boys, 7 and 3. The traffic jam we were in due to an accident on the slippery roads was as bad as any I have ever been in. Vitor complained the entire time about the traffic and the bad drivers yet as soon as we passed the accident scene he set the speedometer on 160 KPM (99.2 MPH) and flew down the rain soaked highway. I thought I was back in Italy.

We finally arrived at the hotel in the town of Cascais which is right on the ocean. The hotel was the former summer home of the King of Italy back when they had Kings. Fortunately they have added Wi-Fi and a few other amenities. It is truly a gorgeous hotel and spa so I appreciated their putting me up for my short stay in such a great place.

But of course now my long nap was out of the question due to my conference call so I slept for an hour, went down and drank two cappuccinos, cleaned up, spent an hour and a half on the conference call and then spent a couple of hours walking around this nice town. So I decided to take photos and share them.

NOT A BAD SELF PHOTO FOR HAVING HAD NO SLEEP BUT I NOTICE JET LAG MAKES MY NOSTRILS ENLARGE

THE OUTSIDE OF THE FAROL DE SANTA MARIA

INSIDE THE FAROL OF SANTA MARIA (I STILL DON'T KNOW WHAT A FAROL IS)

A WONDERFUL OLD MANSION IN PARQUE MARCHAL CARMONA. THE ROMANCE OF THE MOMENT WAS BRUISED A LITTLE WHEN A GUY DROVE BY ON A SEGWAY AS I WAS GETTING READY TO TAKE THE PHOTO

A NICE VIEW OF THE OCEAN I ENJOYED

A LOCAL EATERY WITH THEIR MENU MAN

THIS LOOKED MORE LIKE SOMETHING IN AN ENGLISH VILLAGE THAN HEREPARQUE VASCO DE GAMA. I TOOK THE PHOTO AS I STARTED LAUGHING WHEN I SAW THE NAME. WHEN I WAS A KID THERE WAS A BREAKFAST DRINK NAMED BOSCO AND WHEN WE STUDIED THIS GUY IN HISTORY I ANSWERED ON A TEST THAT IT WAS BOSCO DE GAMA. I DID NOT MAKE AN A.

A NICE LITTLE IN TOWN PICNIC AREA NEAR THE HÍPODROMO

THE LOCAL HÍPODROMOA TYPICAL LITTLE INTERESTING SIDE STREET

THE CASA DAS HISTORIAS MUSEUM AND EXHIBITION CENTER WHERE THEY JUST OPENED A PAULA REGO EXPOSITION. I WENT IN AND VIEWED HER WORK WHICH WAS VERY UNUSUAL AND VERY INTERESTING.

A PLACE I STOPPED FOR A DRINK BECAUSE IT LOOKED SO UN-PORTUGUESE TO ME

I WALKED IN AND SAT DOWN AND THE BARTENDER SAID IN ENGLISH: "I BET I CAN TELL YOU WHERE YOU ARE FROM. I AM REALLY GOOD AT THAT". I SAID "WHERE?"

HE REPLIED: "SWEDEN", THEN "FINLAND", THEN "NORWAY", THEN "DENMARK", THAN "GERMANY" AND THEN "THE UK" AND THEN HE GAVE UP. I SAID "ATLANTA" AND HE SAID "THE WINE IS ON ME". IT WAS A NICE ENDING TO MY TOUR.

noreply@blogger.com (Grover Thomas Jr.) — Mon, 26 Oct 2009 10:48:00 +0000

FOR THE WOMEN WE CARE ABOUT

Rachel and her friend Andrea decided that they would raise some money for Breast Cancer and that they would participate in Saturday's 5K Making Strides Walk in downtown Atlanta. The first person they recruited was the old guy (me).

ANDREA AND RACHEL-FRIENDS SINCE BABIES!

They did a good job, raising something like $1,500 or so. They also invited two of Rachel's friends, Melissa and Michelle, to join us.

OUR TEAM-THE PINK LEMONADERS

They did this in honor of three very strong women who are dealing with Breast Cancer. In our family, Andrea's Mom and my bride Cathy is a breast cancer survivor. We hope she will be out of the woods in three more years.

Rachels cousin and our friend Rosalie, who lives in Birmingham, has been dealing with it for a shorter period of time but we believe and hope the worst is now behind her.

And Rachel's Mother-in-Law Vilma, in Jacksonville, is right in the middle of the hard part with horrific chemo treatments. She is fighting a valiant battle and we think of her daily.

So Rachel made us all pink tee shirts with Vilma, Rosalie and Cathy's name on them and because it was cold and a little rainy, she insisted we each wear a long sleeve black shirt under the tee shirts. The closest thing I had was a long sleeve navy blue shirt that was actually the top to a set of pajamas Luthansa gave me a couple of years ago when I was on a flight from Singapore to Frankfurt. I looked, as I often do, like a real dork.

NOTE THE FASHIONABLE BEIGE PAJAMA COLLAR PEEPING OUT ABOVE THE SHIRT

I ACTUALLY MADE IT TO THE FINISH LINE!

We had fun, it was for a good cause and we all finished. I'm glad we did this for the three brave women we love and all the other women we don't know who are struggling with breast cancer.

noreply@blogger.com (Grover Thomas Jr.) — Fri, 23 Oct 2009 01:18:00 +0000

IT'S THAT TIME OF LIFE

Yes, I know I have not written on this Blog for a month or so. I forget why.

There is a guy named Dave that is CEO of a company that I am Chairman of. Therefore, we talk all the time but I always call him.

Yesterday, after an exchange of emails to set up a phone call with him for 6 pm tonight I told him "Why don't you call me at my Atlanta home at 404-973-7353?"

So at 6pm tonight he didn't call and I thought he forgot. About 6:10 he called and said "I couldn't get through on this number. I tried several times."

Thinking of course that he had to have dialed it wrong I replied, with a certain amount of cockiness and swagger "And what number did you call Dave?"

"404-973-7353" he said.

I then realized that I had given him the phone number from the early 90's when we lived in Atlanta previously. Of course in between we lived for ten years in New York and Chicago, but for some reason I had forgotten all of that and thought that the number we dropped in 1994 was still my home phone number. How I even rememberd it is beyond comprhension.

And you wonder why I forget to write on this Blog.

noreply@blogger.com (Grover Thomas Jr.) — Wed, 23 Sep 2009 18:55:00 +0000

THE QUESTION FROM JEFF SOBEL

A man named Jeff Sobel left me a comment on my posting from yesterday but I do not know how to contact him as there was no email address associated with the comment. So I thought I would answer it here and if he does a Google search on himself it will turn up.

Jeff left a comment with this question:

Are you the same Grover Thomas that showed me magic tricks in meetings at American Finance in the "70s?

Well, Jeff, yes and no. I'm still Grover Thomas but I'm not the same. I'm older. And I am still a member of both the Society of American Magicians and the International Brotherhood of Magicians but because I have no time in my life, I rarely do magic any more.

Now, I'm not sure I am the guy you are looking for because you mentioned magic "tricks". I used to do real miracles that I learned from an old Wizard in the forest and would never stoop so low as to do a cheap magic trick. But I still think I may be the guy you are looking for since how many guys named Grover Thomas did magic and worked for American Finance in the 70's can there be?

In fact, back then I combined my vocation and avocation by learning to deal off the bottom of a deck during countless hours sitting in my car waiting for some deadbeat to come home and leave their car out on the street so I could pop it (repo it) when they went inside. Now, 35 years later, I have the same fun watching "Operación Repo" on the Tru channel on TV and I feel a lot safer in my family room experiencing the world of repo's this way than I did on the streets of some of America's diciest neighborhoods.

So yes, I am the guy and I remember you also. The fact you remember the magic is the most amazing part. You must have been at the meeting when I turned a randomly select grapefruit into a full size live collie and then I gave it to that woman named Brenda from Galesburg and she took it home with her. I would guess the dog is no longer alive but hopefully Brenda still is.

Click HERE Jeff and you will go to a website that shows how to contact me. Maybe we can catch up on the phone.

noreply@blogger.com (Grover Thomas Jr.) — Tue, 22 Sep 2009 01:05:00 +0000

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, ANDREA!

I write this on September 21st, 2009 before I go to bed as my daughter, formerly known as Andrea Yvette "Tootsie Roll" Thomas is winging her way to Phoenix to spend her birthday tomorrow with my Mom, who will soon be 94 and has been fighting for her life for the last year. I so appreciate Andrea that you, and your brother Grover this last weekend, spent time with my Mom as I know how much it means to her. Unfortunately, I also know that due to our floods here in Atlanta today, your plane will not arrive in Phoenix until 3am on your birthday as I just checked the status of the flight! See comments below on your birthday in Slovenia. It must be a birthday thing.

Of course now Andrea is just known as Andrea, or Mama, or Mrs. Botham. But I remember her over all the years, from these photos of her when she was just a little over a year old when she refused to let her hair be washed more than twice a year (based on this photo) and when she would cuddle with a man living in her home that I thought was me, although I have never been as young as the photo suggests.

For those of you who read her Blog, the resemblance between her at that age and someone else in her family will not escape your sharp eyes.

I scoured our house for a better photo of the two of us, but since the family joke (funny to everyone but me) is that her first words were "Daddy Work" the photo above of the two of us may be the only one I have.

Of course, when she was nine we went to Japan, Hong Kong and China and I managed to get at least one photo of her with her brother and me.

And suddenly, poof! The years flew by. I have many memories and few photos of places where we were together like the town of Bled, Slovenia on her birthday when I didn't notice the car said "Diesel Only" (it may have been in Slovenian) and I filled it up with Regular and all of Andrea's plans for that big day were dissolved into an eight hour stretch of standing in the scorching heat at a mechanics house while they pumped the Regular gasoline out with a little motor powered by a sewing machine engine, all the while they stood next to all of the gasoline chain smoking one cigarette after another. It's amazing we weren't blown halfway to Bosnia. But I have a photo of that day (the blue car with every possible door open was ours) and to her credit, she took the disaster and her ruined birthday well. At least kind of well.

I made it up to her later when we celebrated that same birthday with a dinner in a small town outside of Venice, Italy in one of the stranger places we have ever eaten.

I remember one summer when she went with us to Scotland to attend a festival in Edinburgh but of course, they had record rains that year and there were mudslides (called mudslips there) that closed the road and kept us from attending the festival.

We left Scotland having no idea that she would return a few years later to this part of the world to become a part of the life of someone else from the United Kingdom.

That same trip (I think) we went from Scotland to Amsterdam and spent a good part of the day at the Amsterdam's annual Gay Parade, all the time cursing British Airways who had lost our luggage both in Scotland and in Amsterdam.

The two of us had a great time going to the Atacama Desert in Northern Chile where she was sick as an infected coyote and where when we checked into a small "hotel" and I told them how sick she was and that she needed to go directly to bed they told me they would first have to make it. I thought they meant put sheets on it but they showed up with boards, a hammer and nails and literally "made the bed", all the while pouring hot Coca tea down her throat while I worried she might get addicted to Cocaine.

We then went to Easter Island, the most remote inhabited island in the world where we managed to have the strangest pizza we have ever had, but it was a fabulous trip.

A year of so later I had been down in Argentina for a while and so I met Cathy and Andrea in Lima and I guess I forgot that Andrea only brought one blouse and one coat with her.

A few days later the two of us got up at 4am and hiked to the top of a mountain overlooking Machu Pichu below and she was still wearing the same thing.

Then, everything changed. She went to a wedding in Pittsburgh, met a bloke from London whose name was Lee and the rest is history.

A few months after meeting him I secretly flew him over to Atlanta for her surprise birthday party and when I looked at this photo from her party I realize I was so surprised that now I was wearing the pink shirt.

The next thing I knew she was living in London and we were flying back and forth like a commuter. One time we met them in Spain so Luis, Teresa, Gustavo and Dorte could meet Lee and here she was wearing pink again.

After a couple of years she returned to Atlanta, with husband Lee and son Finn, another boy for our collection of Grandkids. And now, there are fewer photos of her with me and millions of photos with her family and that is the way it is supposed to be.

Happy Birthday, Toots!

noreply@blogger.com (Grover Thomas Jr.) — Sun, 16 Aug 2009 20:06:00 +0000

TRAVEL RULE NUMBER TWO

Below is a post I wrote a couple of days ago but could not get posted due to the lack of internet access where I was. In the meantime, after sharing with all of you my Travel Rule Number One, today I learned what Travel Rule Number Two is. So I am going to share it with you here and then below that is my posting I wrote a few days ago.

So here is my TRAVEL RULE NUMBER TWO:

Never, ever, ever ask your traveling companion what I did two days ago. I asked her to get out of the car and guide me so I would not bump into anything after being sandwiched into an impossible situation in Spain by people who parked all around me after I had left the car near a church.

She was doing a great job and suddenly she yelled “Stop. Do not come forward another inch as you will hit this (not knowing what “this” was because I couldn’t see it). Assuming that she must be mistaken, despite the fact that she could see it and I couldn't, I went boldly forward anyway. There was this crunching noise and she yelled “Stop. You are hitting the church” or something to that effect.

Well, it turns out that I ran into a small rock post (probably 14th century) that was part of the church (also 14th century) where my good friend Estefanía was going to be married the next day. And of course, I “chipped” the fog light of the rental car, which simply means I broke the plastic glass.

The result (and the reason this is Travel Rule Number Two)?

When I turned the car back in to Avis tonight, they charged me 200 Euros ($296.14 in US dollars) for this tiny chipped fog light. The lesson? If you are going to ask someone to get out of the car and tell you if you are about to hit something, it would be helpful to take their advice.

And now on to the post I have been trying to publish for several days about a very special time we had.

COPENHAGEN-A WONDERFUL VISIT

Despite the hassle at the Copenhagen airport, which was mainly my fault, and the lost luggage which was a gate agent in Rome’s fault, the visit in Copenhagen was super.

After Gustavo brought us some tee shirts to wear and after we had dinner and then a drink with him, we slept like babes. I got up early to do emails in one of the world’s most expensive cities (only $44 a day for internet access). I also walked from the Hilton over to the airport and spent about $24 on some really good coffee.

Our bags arrived on time as promised and we cleaned up, Gustavo picked us up and we went to their apartment.

Sofía and Luis had been in the hospital for several days with a severe gastro-intestinal problem and had been poked and prodded and hooked up to IV’s in a way that had to have scared them of any stranger that came near them. Not to say how absolutely scared Gustavo and Dorte were during this time.

So we were worried that they would be very afraid of us since their interaction with people they did not know well was limited to their 3 day old experience. We agreed the best thing to do was just smile and them and not reach for them or try and pick them up until they saw us for a while. Gustavo and Dorte had been telling them we were coming, but we were still concerned about frightening them.

When we arrived at their really nice apartment in a great location (Gustavo bikes ten minutes to work), we thought they were sleeping but we walked in and there was Sofía in Dorte’s arms. Both of the kids have these incredible eyes, but especially Sofía. Luis was still sleeping.

Sofía chilling out when we were having coffee at an outdoor cafe

Soon Luis was up and both of them were quite unsure of us given the pure hell they had been through the last few days with adults they didn’t know. Cathy took one look at Luis and said “He is going to be a Lady Killer”

Luis and his Dad at the same outdoor café

So we just sat at the kitchen table catching up with Gustavo and Dorte while the kids had lunch and within an hour they had decided we were okay.

Having Lunch

They are going to be walking soon as they pull themselves up on to anything they can and then walk around it. Dorte speaks to the kids only in Danish and Gustavo speaks to them only in Spanish and then Gustavo and Dorte speak to each other in English so that the kids will grow up trilingual. They clearly understand what you tell them no matter which of the three languages they hear. I think that is pretty cool.

It was a gorgeous day in Copenhagen and when it is a beautiful day there it is as good as you can find. So we went to an outdoor café and sat and talked some more while the kids just soaked in everything around them.

Dorte, Sofía and I walked back along the shore. The streets were filled with thousands of Danes and even more thousands of tourists, many of them on shore for the afternoon from cruise ships. I especially enjoyed the time I had with Dorte just to talk and Cathy, Luis and Gustavo went back in the car as Luis was a little tired. It gave her a great chance to catch up with Gustavo also. It was 24 years ago this month that he became part of our family. Almost a quarter of a century.

During our visit we learned that both of them were a little baffled by their hats as well as learning that the kids take much better photos than their Dad! Sofía also wanted to make sure we knew that they had just turned one.

Back at the apartment the kids were very comfortable with both of us down on the floor playing with them so we did that until their dinner time.

After their dinner Gustavo and I walked down the street and bought some Vietnamese food and brought it back and the four of us ate while the kids played. It was about 9:30 and a little past bedtime for the kids but they were not fussing at all. They let us give them a hug and a kiss and we went back to the hotel. What a wonderful visit it was.

noreply@blogger.com (Grover Thomas Jr.) — Sun, 09 Aug 2009 17:20:00 +0000

HOW DO YOU SAY UNDERWEAR IN ITALIAN?

It sounded like a good idea at the time. I found this place over the internet called L'Andana for us to stay for a few days outside of Grosseto in Southern Tuscany, just 4 miles from the Mediterranean coast. It was the brainchild of Alain Ducasse, one of the world’s most famous chefs who achieved notoriety in the US when he opened his restaurant in the Essex House Hotel in New York City in 2000 with a set price meal before drinks, tax and tip of $160 per person. Remember, this was in 2000 so it was considered outrageous.

I thought that with the reputation he has for quality and the reviews I read, this had to be a great place to stay. But the prices were astronomical so I proceeded to exchange 14 emails back and forth with them negotiating for a decent price, reminding them of everything from the worldwide economic recession to the lack of Americans traveling to Europe this year. I even told a little white lie by saying I was a pensioner on a fixed income.

In the end, they agreed to rent me their “Deluxe Room with Mezzanine” for a decent reduction in their normal price and throw in a dinner for two every night, including one night at Tuscan Trattoria, Ducasse’s one star Michelin restaurant which is on the property.

So here is the verdict after staying here 3 nights. It has one of the nicest settings I have ever stayed in, beginning with the entrance which passed though nearly two thirds of a kilometer of these giant umbrella and cypress trees.

Here are some more views of the grounds and the service, while completely unobtrusive, was as great as the scenery.

I tried to get a photo of the purple grapes growing on the vine in the above photo.

The breakfast area.

Looking out over the vineyards.

Olive trees in the distance.

The rate included a breakfast buffet that was not bad, but not great and we ate the first night at their “normal” restaurant which turned out to be what they called a barbecue and was pedestrian at best. Somehow the idea of a barbecue (and I love barbecue) at a place built by Ducasse seemed incongruous.

The room was described as a “countryside cozy duplex”. The word “duplex” sounded bigger to me than to the author of their website. I should have had warning lights go off at the word cozy.

The “du” part of the “duplex” is shown below. First the stairs leading up to the “du” and then the “du” itself. They were brutally honest in saying it is cozy. Note the one piece of furniture and a lamp. That’s it. No more.

Then there was the main room:

It is somewhat bigger than the rooms in New York City at the “W” hotel which I have written about in the past on this Blog, but not much.

In the end, it was a wonderful place to stay because of the setting and the service and the one night we ate at Ducasse’s restaurant it was phenomenal, but in the end, due to the room and the price I was a little disappointed.

Now, what does that have to do with the word for Underwear in Italian you ask?

Well, I needed to do some laundry while staying at L’Andana. I looked at the laundry list and they charged 6 Euros ($8.64 at today’s exchange rate if I would exchange a million dollars or so at a time-about $9.00 at my exchange rate) per piece of underwear.

As an aside, why do they call it a “Pair of Underwear” or is that just the way I learned it in Kingman, Arizona? It’s not a pair. It’s one piece.

Anyway, I decided that I could buy new underwear for not much more than $9.00 a pair (see, there I go calling it a pair) and maybe less.

Into Grosseto we drove. We parked the car in a city lot, bought our little ticket at the parking machine on the corner and placed it on the dashboard and walked thru the gates of the 16th century completely walled city (no cars allowed). We were looking for a store that sold underwear and then I saw a woman in a Tourist Information Office. I went to go ask her and I realized I had no idea how to say underwear in Italian (Bianchiera). So I looked up the word, marched up to her and asked “Dové posso encontrare un negozio che vendere bianchiera per uomi?”

She smiled and immediately pointed down the street and said “Sotto la bandiera appesa c’é un negozio chimato “Intimissimi” sulla sinistra”

So we walk down the street to where the banner was, looked to the left and sure enough, there was a store call “Intimissimi” that sold what looked like ladies lingerie, not men’s underwear. Keep in mind I am more a Macy’s kind of underwear shopper than a place that starts with “Intimi” anything. But they were about to close for lunch so we went in and found in the back one small section of men’s underwear.

I bought 6 pair of Italian “briefs” as they were on sale for 18 Euros for 3 pair, or exactly the price I would pay to have the old ones laundered. They looked a little small but they were closing for lunch in a couple of minutes and they were my size so I bought them.

She gave me this little bag with the underwear in it and it big letters on the outside that screamed INTIMISSIMI which of course I couldn’t figure out how to hide as we walked thru the main square back to the car.

We then drove about an hour and a half up in the hills to the town of Scanzano, in the middle of the wine growing region, and found a little restaurant sitting on a hill that looked almost like it was a Quonset hut.

We went in there and had a very nice lunch for a very cheap price ($35 Euros), the way all of Italy is if you stay away from the tourist places. As I drove back we decided to go to the grocery store in Grosseto and buy some cheese, wine, olives and fruit and just eat in the room that night rather than go to the hotels restaurant since we would be going the next day to Ducasse's Gourmet Mecca.

It turned out the entire town shut down between 1pm and 4:30 pm every day for lunch so there were no stores open. I decided to take a short cut back to the hotel and got lost but in the process, passed a roadside stand selling fruit. We stopped there and I bought some fruit from the woman who thought we were Germans. After picking out the fruit that had been picked that day right behind the stand (grapes, plums and peaches) she then took me back into her house to her wine cellar where they stored their red wine they made themselves. I bought a bottle of their 2006 red wine for 8.8 Euros. She then tried to sell me a gallon of olive oil, just pressed from their fields and I told her I didn’t need it. She said she thought we were here for the month of August and we could use it during the month. No wonder she thought we were Germans.

I explained that we were only here a few days. She then wanted to show me the apartment she rented out in her farmhouse so we could rent it. I told her we already had a place which disappointed her.

I found my way by quite accident back to the hotel and back in the room I took a look at the underwear. “Brief” was the right definition. Visualize those Speedo swimsuits that Italian men wear. Now visualize soaking them in hot water for a week to shrink them. That is what these looked like. But hey, I now have twice as much underwear for the same price that I would have paid to wash my old ones. And half of them are clean.

Since we needed more than fruit and wine for dinner, I went down to the town of Castiligione della Pescaia which is just 5 minutes away right on the Mediterranean Coast. I parked in the municipal lot and walked to the square. Everyone there (and there were thousands of people) were either speaking French or German. August is holiday month when everyone takes off for the month on their annual trek to the sun and this is one of the places they go. It was very crowded and most people had hardly anything on, which in a few cases was a delight to see and in most cases was scary. I should have taken my shirt off, put on a pair of my new underwear and just strolled through town. No one would have thought anything was odd at all.

Here is a photo of the harbor and overlooking the old town from the hills above the town.

I went in a bar and asked where a bakery was. They gave me directions and I went there and bought some great bread. I then asked the clerk where I could buy some cheese and she told me where the cheese shop was (I thought) but when I got there I couldn’t find it. Maybe she had said something like “You are very nice looking for your age” (she was about 19) and I just thought it was directions to the cheese shop.

I walked in another bar and asked the woman working there and she came around the bar, took my arm, walked outside and walked me into the store right next to her that somehow I had missed.

I bought some local Parmagianno Marrema from this region (we ate almost 2 pounds of it that night) and some olives. I then asked the Cheese monger where to buy a knife to cut the cheese and fruit. He sent me to a kitchen supply place. I told the clerk I wanted a knife to cut cheese and she brought me a 28 Euro knife. I told her I just wanted it for one night. She laughed and went and got a knife that cut cheese amazingly well for only 2 Euros.

I love stuff like this. Being in another country and trying to do the activities of daily living is one of the things I like the most about travel. If I could get a job doing grocery and household shopping for a different family every month in a different country, I might be tempted to do it.

On the way back to L’Andana, I saw another stand and stopped and bought some fresh figs that were fabulous as well as some fresh purple grapes and a basket of strawberries.

We spent the evening sitting in the room being geeks. Cathy was reading her Kindle and I was playing with my IPhone while we drank the rugged young bottle of wine and ate cheese, olives, fruit and bread until we were going to pop. Wow, what an exciting life!

The next day, was our dinner at Ducasse’s Trattoria Toscana.

In the morning we sat by the pool and I listened to a book “How we Decide” on my IPod while Cathy read her 7th or so book of the trip. We had a light lunch and in the afternoon I had an hour long conference call with my brother on my Mom’s condition and I did email while Cathy went to the spa for two hours. More of that exciting life!

When it came time to get dressed for dinner I put on my new “Briefs”. Now I have friends who are Italian men so I apologize in advance to all of them for what I am about to say here. They all seem very masculine to me and somewhat “macho” in many cases and their voices seem normal. But having put on these briefs, I am shocked that they do not all speak like Michael Jackson used to.

Basically, to wear these, you have to master a certain maneuver that requires you to fold your testicles in half into a wad and then pull them up toward your bellybutton and quickly close the underwear. If you are someone who recently had hernia surgery this is somewhat more difficult but I can attest that it can be done.

You then walk with your legs close together so you know what won’t slip back down and you learn to sit down very, very carefully. I am not sure what Italian baseball players do when wearing these as there is nothing to “adjust” the way ball players constantly do. Everything is wadded up into a crumbled little packet so there is nothing to scratch or paw at. That could explain why Football (or soccer as we call it) is more popular than baseball in Italy.

Oh, and lower your voice-a lot when wearing them or the local church will recruit you to be in the boys’ choir.

The dinner that night was everything you would expect. It was just fabulous, helped in part by the fact that I had talked them into including the cost of it in the room. I had a pasta with sausage, bacon, green peppers and gravy for an appetizer that was to die for.

For dessert we had the most incredibly sweet fresh peaches sitting on a bed of chilled and pureed peaches. I have not had a great experience at a Michelin rated restaurant in the past but this one was tremendous.

The next day we drove back to Rome. In my last post I talked about the taxi drivers. Everything I said applies to drivers on the Italians highways.

I had rented a Fiat Alfa Romeo and was driving down the autostrada at a very steady 140 Kilometers per hour, which is 87 miles per hour. I never passed a car but a couple of hundred passed me. I kicked it up to 155 KPH when we got on a toll road (96 mph) and I was cruising with traffic but many cars still flew by.

Those of you that have never driven in Italy think I’m exaggerating. Those of you that have driven in Italy know I’m not stretching it.

As we entered the airport, cars were passing us one after another at speeds in excess of 75 to 80 miles per hour and I am talking about right as you get to the airport-under the “Arrivi” signs. It is just nuts.

We spent that night at the Hilton Inn at the Rome Airport as I had another free night with points. This Hilton has likely won consistently the monthly award within Hilton for the most obnoxious and rude staff worldwide.

If you read my last post, you know about our delightful and lovely experience XXX the next day flying to Copenhagen from Rome. And although I will tell you more about it later, let me close by saying it was worth every minute of aggravation getting to Copenhagen when we walked into Gustavo and Dorte’s apartment and saw Luis and Sofia who had just had their first birthday on the 29th of July and who had just been released from several days in the hospital two days before we arrived.

noreply@blogger.com (Grover Thomas Jr.) — Sat, 08 Aug 2009 07:02:00 +0000

TRAVEL RULE NUMBER ONE

Never, ever, ever travel to, from or inside of Italy via plane or train during August, the annual European holiday season when what seems like 90% of all the EU citizens flock to the Italian beaches.

We had a flight out of Rome yesterday on Air Berlin, scheduled to leave at 1: 55 in the afternoon. They suggested we arrive 90 minutes before. We were flying to Berlin and connecting to Copenhagen.

We had time to kill so we arrived about 2 and half hours before the flight. There were seven and a half million people in an airport that was somewhere around the median temperature in August in the middle of the Sahara desert.

All but four of those people were in line to check in to various flights. We queued up and spent the next nearly two hours in line. Among other things, the entire automated luggage handling system had completely broken down from the volume I guess. They had a bunch of guys pushing small carts from counter to counter to load up the massive amount of bags. It was quite similar to the way they did it in 1977 when we were in the Dominican Republic.

Becoming somewhat parched standing in that line, I left to go buy us some water while my companion fought off the constant stream of attempts of others to cut in line because they had to catch their plane. They obviously did not realize the rest of us were not standing in line to buy tickets to a movie. Although if we were, Planes, Trains and Automobiles would have been a big hit.

They don't sell water with magazines and other sundry items so you have to go to a cafe. Entertaining myself I decided to keep track-I was unable to find a cafe to go buy a bottle of water that had less than 21 people waiting in line. So I gave up.

When we finally made it to the front of the counter, we obtained our boarding passes and the agent had to (for each passenger) come out from around the counter and attach the baggage tags to our suitcases and then go behind the counter again. We had to leave our bags just sitting in front of the counter along with everyone else’s so we knew what that likely meant in terms of the likelihood of their completing their journey.

Fortunately, I had told my companion "Be sure and put your medication and anything you have to have in your carry on bag". She did as I suggested. For some reason I didn't hear myself saying that since I didn't do it.

The planes were so behind that when we went through security they didn't even look at the boarding pass or passport. They just waved us on. I could have had dynamite strapped to the outside of my clothes and he wouldn't have seen it.

Air Berlin is truly a nice airline. The planes are big, roomy, spotless and a great crew. We were late taking off due to the delays but we made up some of the time and arrived in Berlin only 15 minutes behind. We thought we had plenty of time to make our connection since it was on the same airline so we knew the gates would be near.

Wrong. We walked, and walked, and walked. Finally we came to the end of the terminal and went outside to another terminal and walked some more. This took about 40 minutes. Because we had gone outside we had to clear security which, if you just think of your view of the Germans versus the Italians, you will quickly conclude is somewhat more stringent.

First I went thru the metal detector and my metal knee went off. I explained it but they thoroughly checked me and then went thru my carry on bag (you know, the one that did not have the things I was supposed to be sure and not put in my checked luggage).

Then Cathy went through and brought down the house so to speak. With her four artificial hip operations, her artificial knee, her metal plate in her arm (which is now covered in a bright purple cast), they simply were astounded. The woman just kept running the wand over and over her completely while all the security people gathered around to hear the mulitple alarms going off. They didn't know what to do with her. I told the guy in charge she was a Bionic Woman but he didn't laugh. Neither did she.

Meanwhile, they were going through her carry on and looking at all the pills she had, which were vitamins and supplements but they must have thought they were something else.

But we made it through and flew to Copenhagen. When we got off the plane, we were farting around and not paying attention (meaning me) and we turned the wrong way. We walked and walked and walked while one of us kept asking "Are you sure this is the right way?” To which I would say "Of course". After 20 minutes and over a mile (no exaggeration) we had to go through a secure door to "Domestic Arrivals". The question came up "Are you sure we should go there?"

Same answer. Through the door I barged to find a baggage carousel empty and no people. I thought "Domestic" meant within the EU as it does in some airports in Europe, but not in Denmark. So now we couldn't get back in the airport and we had to walk not back to where we had been (because we couldn't get in there) but instead, to the other end of the airport, about a mile and a half. Keep in mind my companion had an epidural 2 days before we left on this trip just so she could endure a little more the pain of walking since she won't have surgery until September. She had also taken some pain medication on our hike in Berlin but she was still in pain and of course I felt horrible, as well I should have for being so dumb.

We finally got back to another terminal and she was able to sit down and I then spent 45 minutes talking to police officers, the Air Berlin desk, Customs and assorted others trying to get into the Customs Secure International Luggage Claim to get our bags. I finally succeeded only to learn that in Rome, the woman forgot to print our names on the baggage claims so they made it to Berlin, but in Berlin the security people could not match the passenger list to the names printed by the computer on the bag tags (because she forgot to print it) so it was a security risk and they held the bags in Berlin.

This all happened yesterday, Friday. They are supposed to arrive today around noon.

So, of course we had no change of clothes, nothing to sleep in, but the good news (for me, not necessarily both of us) was I had my charger for my IPhone and my charger for my laptop so I knew I'd survive. I bought a toothbrush and toothpaste and Gustavo and Dorte brought us tee-shirts to sleep in as well as some shirts to wear today until our bags come.

In his career,Gustavo has been to Guantanamo a couple of times on an inspection trip for the OSCE (Organization for the Cooperation and Security in Europe) so he gave me this cool Gitmo shirt to wear. Note that you cannot see below my waist. More on that on my next post about buying underwear in Italy which I hope to do later today. Also note I still have substantial swelling from my surgery 4 weeks ago.

Remember the rule. Don't travel by train or plane in Italy in August.

Ever. But in this case, it was worth it all as we are just leaving to go to Gustavo and Dorte's and spend the day with them and the Twins! Hooray!

noreply@blogger.com (Grover Thomas Jr.) — Tue, 04 Aug 2009 05:39:00 +0000

WHY I DRIVE IN ROME

It's now Tuesday morning in the countryside right outside of Castiglione della Pescaia (Grosseto), Italy, in the Southern part of Tuscany. I drove up here yesterday afternoon to spend four days and three nights at L'Andana Tenuta La Badiola which is out in the middle of nowhere among their vineyards and olive groves. Driving up here from Rome yesterday I thought about friends who always say things to me like "You drive in Rome? Are you crazy? They are crazy there!"

The answers to the first two questions are yes and no. It is true that they are crazy in the way they drive. But I drove for years in New York City and have driven in many countries where they are, shall we say, a little more macho behind the wheel than your average Iowa resident. So I am comfortable with driving in other countries but I was reminded again this week of why I specificallhy choose to drive in Rome.

Since the cheapest rental car I could find was $145 a day (partly due to the damage the car rental car companies suffer from the crazy drivers), I decided I would wait and get it yesterday when I was leaving Rome and just take a taxi each day wherever we went. Of course that meant a taxi from the airport when we arrived and one back to the airport to get the car which was more than one days rental so it may not have been such a good economic argument.

But, in a period of two days, three things happened in separate taxis that answers the question "Why do I drive in Rome?"

First was on Saturday night. Because it was August 1st, the official start of "holiday" in Italy and the month that many (probably more than half) of all restaurants close for the month, every single restaurant we tried to get into because we knew them was closed. The concierge recommended a restaurant called Le Fric, a restaurant with not bad food but for me, a restaurant I would never go back to. It caters to Americans and I think that is all that were in there that night. It is owned by a pleasant family that are working hard to make a success of it (and likely paying a commission to the Hotel's concierge), but I don't like a restaurant where I have to speak English instead of my struggling Italian.

After the meal we walked back to Piazza Barberini where we knew there was a taxi stand. An old guy (my age) was sitting in his taxi and I asked him "É liberato?" and he said yes so we got in and told him the name of the hotel and off we went.

Because the hotel is on the top of a very large hill, the road is very winding with many sharp curves. He was roaring up it about 85 kilometers an hour around the hairpin curves and suddenly a woman in another car passed him. He was furious. He honked his horn and started chasing her and she sped up. We raced up the hill at 120 kilometers per hour and he was riding her bumper when on one curve he lost traction and the rear of the car slid out from under him to the right. It never fazed him.

He kept it up and when we got to a stop light at the top of the hill she pulled up in front of another car (to get away from us) and he pulled along the side of this other car, on the wrong side of the road, and got right up to her bumper. She flipped him the bird which riled him up more and she took off with us in hot pursuit. Fortunately, she suddenly turned right and he couldn't make the turn so he continued on to the hotel. We got back to the room and changed our clothes.

Sunday afternoon, we had a delicious lunch in the Tratorria Dal Pollarolo 1936 a restaurant that has been in the same location right off Piazza_del_Popolo since 1936 (see photo below). Unlike the hotel with it's room service charge of $50 dollars for two cups of coffee, we had a fabulous lunch here with appetizers of Breseola with Arugula and Parmigiano and a Caprese Salad followed by a huge bowl of Pasta Fagiole and a giant platter of Cacio e Pepe. We finished it off with two big desserts and it was accompanied by a large carafe of their soft house reed wine, two Limoncellos and two coffees. It cost $49 Euros or $70. A much better deal than the coffee at the hotel.

It was this meal that caused my hernia to be swollen a few minutes later in the photo I shared on my last posting by the way.

Afterwards we walked over and found an available taxi, got into it and started to the hotel. He then spent the entire time (about 18 minutes) texting back and forth nonstop. Sitting in the back seat gives you a great view of just how incredibly dangerous it is to text and drive and this was no exception. This included texting while driving up the same curves we had slid around 14 hours earlier.

The third example occurred a little later that night. We had decided to go down to Ivo a Trastavere Pizzeria in the incredibly popular and mobbed Trastevere section of Rome on the other side of the River Tiber, just south of the Vatican. By the way, if you go to Rome and you want great pizza and you don't care if it is a fancy place, go here. Two orders of Bruschetta, one large and one giant pizza (with paper thin crust), a full bottle of local red wine and two large bottles of sparkling water for only 32 Euros.

So the Hotel Concierge calls a taxi and we get in it and tell him where we are going (about a 20 minute drive). As we leave the hotel we realize that right below the taxi's radio to call the office is a full size TV and he is watching a soap opera. He continues to watch it (including as we are driving down those curves) the entire time, glancing occasionally at the road.

Adding those three experiences in two days to the fact that most taxi drivers appear to believe that stop lights do not apply to them should answer the question "Why I Drive in Rome".

And finally, on Sunday we fired up the Webcam and talked to Landon, Wes and Cris and then Finn, Lee and Andrea (note the boys names come first) and I continue to be blown away by the fact that we can talk as long as we want, see them live on the screen and vice versa, and not have to pay a penny for the call. I remember the 80's when it was over five dollars a minute for a call with a minimum of twenty dollars and the connection was horrible and it was just a phone call. Now it's free and we get so see each other as well as talk. Mind boggling.

noreply@blogger.com (Grover Thomas Jr.) — Sat, 01 Aug 2009 05:55:00 +0000

DELTA AIRLINES IS A MESS

We had booked a flight to Rome Thursday in Business Class as the idea of a 10 hour ride in Coach was just too much with our recent injuries and surgery. In fact, Cathy was at the Doctor the morning we left getting a new cast on her arm and the day before she had an epidural in her back in an attempt to be able to walk some during the trip without being in horrible pain.

The flight was scheduled do leave at 4:45 pm, much to early for a European flight since it meant it would land at 2:45 am on our time and they wake you up about 2 hours early to feed you breakfast. But it was the only direct flight so we took it.

We arrived at the airport 2 hours and 15 minutes ahead and walked up to the First Class/Business Class line and it was mobbed. How could this be? That is why there is a separate line and why we paid a lot more for these tickets?

It turns out, Delta, in all their wisdom, took a bus of passengers that had some kind of problem with a cancelled flight and put them in this line. So we waited an hour in line as we watched the number of Delta personnel helping this group move from 3 to 2 and then to 1 as they went on various breaks. Then we watched as different people would come up and cry a sad song to a supervisor that they were going to be late (like the rest of us in line) and if it was an attractive female he somehow found it within him to put them in front of the rest of us. As one of Delta’s small group of ultra elite flyers that has every status level they can give a person, it disappoints me that I am treated that way. I have flown them on an almost weekly basis for more than 25 years which means my employer and I have spent over a million bucks with them (do the math-it really is that much)over the years and they do crap like this.

We got on the plane and I immediately noticed there was blood on the pillowcase of the pillow in my seat. Great. The flight attendant fixed that quickly and I always take my own pillow anyway so it wasn’t a big deal but a clear quality issue like the check-in.

This was one of their new planes with more of a lie flat bed (not completely like Singapore Airlines but closer) and there was hardly anyone in first class with us so they upgraded tons of people and I liked that because these people were chosen at random and were so happy.

I fell asleep before we took off and when I woke up we were over New York. I don’t remember leaving the gate. They served a nice dinner and it is the first time in probably my last 20 flights to Europe where I was actually awake for dinner since normally the flights are later and I take a sleeping pill and go right to sleep.

Tonight I stayed up until 730 and even had their ice cream sundae and then took a sleeping pill and the next thing I knew it was 7:00 am Italy time and they were serving breakfast.

We haven’t been to Rome in a couple of years and we like it. We cleared customs, noticing they no longer have landing and immigration cards to fill out, although we did have to fill out a Swine Flu card.

We got our bags, walked out thru Customs and found an ATM to get some Euros at a horrific rate of $1.45 for each Euro. Thank you Mr. President for driving the confidence of the world in the dollar down to one of its lowest levels so we could buy clunker cars, save failing industries that we should just let fail and all of the other “Let’s throw money at everything” plans that have been introduced this year. No wonder the dollar is so weak.

We caught a taxi and I was amazed that my Italian came back to me as soon as I asked him to take us to the hotel. The hotel, where we stayed 10 nights a few years ago, used to be called the Hilton Cavaliere but is now The Waldorf Astoria Cavaliere. I didn’t know that until I arrived as I booked it through Hilton. I guess Hilton has purchased the Waldorf Astoria Group.

It is amazing the power of a brand name. In 2000 I paid $135 a night for a room and that was a room on their Executive Club Floor. This week the rates are $445 a night and the only thing that has changed is the name. Fortunately, I had points so I didn't have to pay anything but it crazy how the rates can almost triple, much of it likely to the name change.

Of course, the Roma 09 FINA world swimming championships going on here in Rome this week are headquartered here at this hotel so it is packed to the gills. We could not upgrade to the Executive Floor is because it was filled with the athletes. Eveywhere you look are these svelte athletes although we have not seen Michael Phelps yet.

We saw one of the elite swimmers from Atlanta at Piazza Popoli and took this photo of him.

Actually, I am just kidding. That is really me. I don't think you would have realized it was not one of the athletes if my stomach wasn't still so swollen from my hernia surgery.

We got to the hotel at 930 so the room was not ready and would not be until 4pm. I followed my friend Harvey’s technique of engaging Nicola, the young guy taking care of me and suddenly he “found” an upgraded room that would be ready in a half hour. We went over to the bar and ordered 2 cappuccinos and about freaked when we got the bill for $14 Euros or $20.

But the room is great. We had decided we would take it easy all day and just let Cathy rest up because of her back. Not a problem. She was in the bed and asleep in about ten minutes and slept for 3 hours. I did email and wandered all over the hotel trying to find a Financial Times and practicing my Italian.

About 2:30 we went down to the casual restaurant overlooking the pool and had a lunch consisting of a half bottle of inexpensive wine and we each had an appetizer that was a small piece of pasta. Mine was a round just freshly made pasta pocket filled with asparagus, artichoke and cheese and covered in a parsley foam and Cathy’s was a freshly made pasta shell filled with tomatoes, eggplant and cheese I think. Both were incredibly good but very small. I had a cup of cappuccino and the bill was $130. Man, this is an expensive hotel.

Cathy went back and slept some more and I did email and wandered around the neighborhood. Later I was going to order two cappucinos from room service but decided I had better look up on the menu to see how much they were since they had been $20 at the bar. It's a good think I looked. Imagine this-each cappucino if you get it from room service will cost, including the delivery charge to bring it up five floors, costs $25. That's right. $50 bucks for two cups of coffee. I did without.

In January, 2000, we had stayed here and had a fabulous meal at a Sardinian restaurant and for some reason, I did not have the name of it. I am very anal about things like that and so I had my AMEX bills for 2000 (and every other year) on my laptop but I discovered that we had to pay by cash I guess as it was not on my AMEX. I also couldn’t find it on another spreadsheet I keep of restaurants we like.

So I talked to the concierge and after describing sort of where it was and that it was on a corner down this winding hill, he decided it must be the Restaurant Nuraghe Sardo . So we booked an 8pm table and caught a taxi there. As soon as we got on the street I knew it was the place. We’d ask for a table outside as it had been 93 during the day and most restaurants are not air-conditioned. We were seated on a little terrace on a side street and spent the night with the noise of a thousand motorbikes but it was still a nice table and setting. We saw no less than 50 cars and bikes completely ignore red lights and just drive thru after looking to see if was safe to do so.

We ordered a mixed antipasti plate of fish and meat I thought but my Italian failed me since we ended up with just fish. And I hate fish. But it was all fresh and we ate the octopus, the calamari, the shrimp, a very fishy salmon, some kind of white fish and some other things, leaving the sardines on the plate. I then had a large plate of Prosciutto and a Veal Picatta and Cathy had some Spaghetti Pomodoro. We told them to just bring us “una bottiglia del vino rosso de la tavola” (a bottle of red table wine from the house) and it was a nice young wine in an old earthen carafe. They also served this Sardinian Flatbread that was my fondest memory from the last time we went there-it was crackly with just a little salt and olive oil on it.

We sat there for a couple of hours enjoying the meal and our conversation and if I could figure out how to do it, I wwould put a video I took at the meal on here. But I can't figure it out.

The bill was only 67 Euros, or $100, much less than lunch for much more food. Just the price of 4 cups of coffee from room service at the hotel.

Now I have no idea if the 67 Euros was right or not since I could not read a thing on the bill. I can read Italian, that wasn’t the problem. I will explain it by showing the actual bill below:

There is a YouTube video here of a couple of guys eating at this place sitting on the same balcony and one table away from where we sat last night.

So I gave him the 67 Euros in cash and a 3 Euro tip which he was so grateful for since they don’t tip here. I asked him where I could find a taxi and he told me where a stand was “30 meters” down the street, After about a half mile walk we saw three guys on a corner arguing about something (in a friendly way it seemed) so I stopped and asked them where I could find a taxi and this guy took about five minutes in rapid fire Italian explaining all of the options. I got enough of it to get the general idea so we walked farther and then stopped at a kiosk selling watermelon and I asked him. He said “da la Fontana” which means “over the fountain” so we turned and saw a classic Italian fountain spewing into the air and we crossed over it and sure enough, there was a taxi stand. So we drove back to the hotel and collapsed in bed, turning off the light at 11pm.

I woke up at 530 am on Saturday with no jet lag. I decided to go down to the lobby and write this post which started out as a diatribe on Delta but has ended up being a one day Travelogue.

noreply@blogger.com (Grover Thomas Jr.) — Sun, 19 Jul 2009 20:00:00 +0000

HEALTH CARE CRAZINESS

It's interesting to see what The Economist, one of the worlds most prestigious publications, has to say about the lunacy going on in our House of Representatives at the moment. Their definition of our countries leadership turning their back on common sense is dead on. Pelosi and her gang have let the power corrupt them in a way that will cause them great problems when the elections roll around.

This is a publication that is not only British, where they have the Universal Coverage Government Run Health Care System so many people here think we should imitate, but also a magazine that endorsed and supported Obama. It is good to see that more and more intelligent Democrats are coming to realize that they are having a disastrous solution being forced down their throats, hopefully making the likelihood of passing it in its current form impossible.

Click on the line below to see what they have to say about what is going on in our country:

Congress's new health-care plan: Soak the rich The Economist

And if that is not enough to make you vomit at what is happening in DC, read what was written about it by a Blog that has been called "one of the most respected independent voices in the healthcare industry. Particularly, read the comments to this Blog from Doctors who realize if this passes, the era of our high quality medical care with disappear.

Read this please: http://www.thehealthcareblog.com/the_health_care_blog/2009/07/a-bone-in-the-throat.html

noreply@blogger.com (Grover Thomas Jr.) — Wed, 15 Jul 2009 01:50:00 +0000

ON AGING

I have a lot of friends who, like me, are getting older. But in their case, it is so obvious. I mean I look at them and say "Wow. He is really aging. If I hadn't been around him a lot over the last 30 years, I wouldn't recognize him."

I truly feel bad for them. It must be horrible to realize that you have changed and continue to change every day.

I have been blessed in so many ways in my life. But the thing I am most thankful for is that unlike others, I have not changed a bit. If my girl friend from the First Grade, Mary Jane Wozny, saw me at the Atlanta airport she would run up, throw herself on me and scream "Grover! You haven't changed a bit. "You are exactly the way I remember you." And she would be so right.

Damn! I am so lucky that I still look the way I did when I knew Mary Jane. I absolutely cannot tell the difference.

THEN

NOW

I rest my case! Although, given what I have been through the last few days, I could point out that the first photo was taken BEFORE my hernia surgery last week and the second photo was taken SINCE my hernia surgery last week. Given the geographical part of my body the Doc was poking around in with his machete and given the way I feel, it is amazing that I still look the same in both photos.

noreply@blogger.com (Grover Thomas Jr.) — Sat, 11 Jul 2009 01:41:00 +0000

LET'S PASS A LAW THAT ELECTED LEADERS MUST TAKE ECONOMICS 101.

You know, I promised not to use this as a political mouthpiece and I only wrote 3 posts that even mentioned my view on the election last year. I heard from several readers that while they had a different opinion than mine (the way it is supposed to be), they appreciated my attempt at striking a balance and not being off the edge in my views.

You may recall my ideal ticket was a Republican and a Democrat for President and Vice President. And when Obama won I said the people have spoken and I would support him. And I continue to do so.

From my point of view, the jury is still out on him. I think he has done a bad job domestically with the banks, auto companies and the stimulus bill, but in fairness, he may not have had a lot of choices.

And I think he has done a decent job at taking the first step to rebuild our reputation in the rest of the world. He isn't changing anything as he probably really can't. Every President is almost always limited by their countries geopolitical realities regarless of their political party.

So he is forced to follow almost all of Bush's policies internationally (Iran, Russia, Guantanamo, Iraq, etc) just as Bush had to follow for the most part Clinton's policies. But Obama's tremendous gift of communication is allowing him to reframe the same old issues in a much better way and create in the minds of the rest of the world that we are more willing to negotiate their concerns (even though we can't really do anything much differently). I think he has made much progress by just telling people he cares about them and is listening to their concerns.

So, this post is not about Obama. It is about his bedfellows.

But tonight, as I am nursing my hernia operation I had today and feeling sorry for myself, I received a Breaking News alert that said the Democrats are going to try and institute a surtax on couples making more than $350,000 to pay for $550 billion of the ridiculous health care reform plan that is being bantered about in DC.

On top of that, they said that if the health care savings that they anticipate in the plan aren't met, they will raise the tax on these taxpayers even more. In other words, if the Democrats are wrong in their estimates of the savings in health care costs they guess can be obtained by going to a government run system (read rationing) that still leaves 36 million or so people uninsured (and they are wrong) they will punish themselves for their lousy analytics by making the taxpayers pay even more. This is America?

I am so livid I cannot believe it.

I am aware of and sensitive to the fact that the majority of people in America do not make over $350,000 a year so it is easy to say "Screw em-they have too much money anyway." And that might be the logic behind the Democrats proposal given their track record this year to date.

The error in that thought process is as follows: It is true that it can be possible to not have people make $350,000 a year or more. There are several models of that in real life-Somalia (except for the pirates), Sudan, Eritrea, Moldova, Afghanistan, etc. And since these countries are heavily dependent on aid from American based charities, the poor (which are the majority) in these countries will suffer more since a large percentage of the contributions that charities raise here to send to poorer countries is from couples making over $350,000. Now they won't have the money to give because the government will have it.

One could argue that this will be okay if the money goes to give Americans better health care (you know-the "keep it at home instead of helping those "other people" argument). But that is not the case-the health care proposal will deliver worse health care, not better. It will provide coverage for 13 or so million people that are uninsured and that is good, but the rest of American's who are happy with their health care other than the cost will wake up wondering if they should take French lessons since they will have moved to a Canadian type of system of socialized medicine.

Which brings me back to the title of this post.

The last I looked, the unemployment rate had gone much higher than the Administration said it would and VP Biden said this week "We (the administration) simply got it wrong". Well, they have this wrong too because it is contrary to basic economics. I, for one, will not feel better when they increase taxes $550 million dollars and then say "Oops, we got it wrong".

If you tax couples making over $350,000 annually $550 billion more in taxes, that is $550 billion less they will have to donate a portion of to the charities mentioned above and a lot less to invest in companies through the purchase of their stocks and bonds which would create jobs.

Therefore, all the jobs that would have been created to solve the unemployment problem (you can hire a lot of folks for half a billion dollars) will not be created and so we will continue in this recession, created during the Bush years and now being supercharged in the Obama years .

When you have Democrats in Congress that are so gung ho to get even for some of the dumb things Bush and Cheney did that they are determined to get their pound of flesh by ruining the lives of so many Americans we have reached a sad state. And this is coming from someone (me) who is solidly behind the well thought out and doable programs that will give all of us not just universal access through a government/private industry program that was put forth a couple of years ago. So my anger is not at the idea of fixing our health care industry-we must fix it. My anger is in doing it the wrong way because you are mad at the past Administration and deciding to make a small group of Americans pay for over half of it.

And I think they are doing it (to make the point again) because they are still angry with Bush and because they never read or understood Economics for Dummies (if there is such a book) or took a basic Macro economics class.

Okay. Probably the only political posting by me this year.

As you can tell, the knife didn't slip today during the surgery. I still have a fire in my belly, especially on this topic.

noreply@blogger.com (Grover Thomas Jr.) — Fri, 10 Jul 2009 08:57:00 +0000

LET'S HOPE THE KNIFE DOESN'T SLIP

In 7 and a half hours I have to go into the hospital for Hernia surgery. I'm warning you in advance that if my words sound like my voice is higher on my next post, you will know I should not have gone to Wal Mart to get my Doctor. He is going to be doing the surgery in a rather risky neighborhood.

So, as I walked out of Goldberg's Deli earlier today where I went to have a nice sandwich since I won't be eating for a while, I was thinking what a beautiful day in Atlanta it was and a bird pooped right on my head. I freaked out, got in the car, came home and immediately ran up and took a shower. How inconsiderate of this bird-here I am getting ready to have surgery and a bird poops on my head. I was not happy.

Hopefully I will be back Blogging (or at least reading your Blogs) by next Wednesday. In the meantime, PLEASE do me a favor.

Go to Andrea's Blog and vote for Finn! It starts tomorrow (Friday) and I can't vote for him as I will be on the operating table. But you can be my proxy-all of you! Vote away!

noreply@blogger.com (Grover Thomas Jr.) — Sat, 04 Jul 2009 21:04:00 +0000

QUESTION: HOW DOES ONE CELEBRATE THE 4TH OF JULY WITH A HERNIA

Answer-go get your youngest Grandson, get your photo taken with him and then go to a neighborhood parade. It is amazing. Suddenly, you just feel so much better.

I hope all of you in the USA that read this Blog had a wonderful holiday today. Despite our challenges, we have a wonderful country.

I also know that there are many of you in other countries that read my Blog and I don't want to be insensitive and "American Centric". I know all of you are equally and appropriately proud of your country and you also have holdiays to celebrate your country's history.

What I've learned through years of international travel is that all of us share in common so much more than the small differences between us. One of the great things about the Internet is that is allows us to learn about each other and realize that we are really not very different.

We all love our families, care deeply about our friends and are proud of our countries. I appreciate all of you, whether you are from India, Asia, Europe, South America, Africa, Australia or all the other places. It makes me happy when I look at the map of the world on my Blog to see all of the indicators showing you have paid this Blog a visit.

But I am not happy that on May 11th, the service that tracks all of my visitors dropped 9,129 of your visits off of the map so that it now only shows the ones since that date.

However, despite the irritant of losing the record on-line of all your visits (I have it off-line), thank you for taking the time to read my ramblings. I wish I could meet each and every one of you. In the end, we are all citizens of the same planet.

So to evey one, regardless of whether you are celebrating with us as Americans today, I say Happy 4th of July.

noreply@blogger.com (Grover Thomas Jr.) — Sun, 21 Jun 2009 11:20:00 +0000

REFLECTIONS ON MY DAD FOR FATHER'S DAY

Today is Father's Day. I am blessed because we are at our home in Florida with Grover, Cris, Landon, Wes, Andrea, Lee & Finn. We are going to have breakfast where we will eat bacon until it comes out of our ears this morning because the three Dads here all love bacon.

We are then going to go to the beach, as we did yesterday, to play in the pure white sand of America's most beautiful beaches and go a little ways out in the warm water of the Gulf holding hands with one of the boys. I wrote "a little ways out" because yesterday when we were at the beach there were sharks about 30 to 40 yards offshore and you have not seen people exit the water as fast as everyone did yesterday when the sharks appeared.

We will build a sand castle while we bake in the torrid and humid 105 degree heat index weather we are having here and when we can't take it any longer, we will drive 3 minutes back to our home and all pile in our pool, perhaps with a break to eat some of the home made ice cream we made yesterday.

It will be a wonderful day to be together and for me, having so many of my family with me will be the best Fathers’ Day present of all. And my thoughts will be about how lucky I am to have this chance today for us to be here in Destin together.

But my thoughts will also be with my Dad, who I lost so many years ago. Over the last year, as I have watched my Mom continue on her erratic and painful journey to life's end, I have found myself thinking more and more about my Dad.

I always say I am a lot like my Mom and there is no doubt that this is true in many, many ways. But yesterday, as I was mixing up the batch of home made ice cream, I thought about how my Dad would always make home made ice cream when we went to see him. I have an ice cream freezer because Grover remembers fondly when he was a little tyke like his boys are now and we would go to see my parents at the motel in Kingman, Arizona, so far away and such a long time ago. One of the first things my Dad would do would be to make home made ice cream and so Grover bought me this ice cream freezer a couple of years ago so I could do that when we are all together and whenever I do it, I have strong feelings that the spirit of my Dad is at my side while I am preparing it.

My Dad loved to garden and even late in his life he would always have a few tomato plants and some other things on his patio. This time of year I go out on the balcony overlooking our back yard in Atlanta every day I am in town and just visit with the tomatoes, lettuce, arugula, peppers, kitchen herbs and other plants I am growing. Just being out there with them invariably makes me think of my Dad.

My Dad was an accountant and so he was good with numbers and he had a ledger (this was way before spreadsheets) for everything. I remember he could tell you what the weather was like every day going back many years and what day he planted his various plants so he could refer to it in the following years.

I also find accounting and numbers in business easy to understand and I am anal about the amount of "ledgers" I keep, even though they are now on a laptop. I have my calendars showing what I did every day since 1977. Yes, that's right, 1977.

If I want to remember the name of a restaurant we've eaten at in Istanbul on two different trips, I can go either to a spreadsheet named "Eats" and find it or I can go to my spreadsheet where I keep a reconciliation of my Amex bill from 1995 and look it up. By the way, it is called S Restaurant and is in the Bebek neighborhood.

And so on this Father's Day Pop (I called him Pop), I realize that although my personality and outlook on life is like Mom, I am who I am because of who both of you and when I think about it, I realize that as I have described above, I am like you in many ways that I never thought of before. And I am proud that I am.

If you were with us today you would be so proud. You so loved Cathy and everything about her and she has not changed a bit. You would look at her as you sat here in Destin and see that she is every bit the wonderful woman today that she was when you were still with us.

Your namesake Grover is now a numbers guy like you with a successful career and you would be so proud of him.

You would look at your granddaughter Andrea and be so happy that she is a great Mom like her Mom and that she has her Mom's values which you so admired in Cathy.

You would be so happy when you would meet our daughter in law Cris and our son in law Lee. We are so blessed to have them in our family. And of course, it would be the three little guys here today that you would enjoy the most-Landon, Wes and Finn. You would watch them running around playing together on the beach and you would just smile at the legacy you left us.

Wes, playing yesterday on the beach

Fearless Landon playing yesterday in the shark infested water

Finn, modeling yesterday at the beach

You would be so happy to learn that Gustavo and his wife Dorte and their twins are doing well in Copenhagen and so glad to know that they have become part of our family also.

In closing, I remember so well back in 1951 when you and Mom took me to the white sand beaches of the Panhandle of Florida. You so loved how beautiful the sand was and talked about it for years afterwards.

So now, 58 years later as we celebrate Father's Day on those same white beaches that you took me to and that you loved so much, I will be celebrating you and all you did to make me who I am today. And I thought that if you have good internet access up there, you would enjoy these photos of the legacy you left us.

Two of my boys with me (it is impossible to get all of them to sit still at one time)

The first photo below was taken a year ago and we just had them developed. Obviously the kids have grown a lot since then. The second photo was taken three weeks ago in Copenhagen (that is Dorte's brother in the top left corner) at the twins baptism.

Happy Father’s Day Pop. I miss you so much.

noreply@blogger.com (Grover Thomas Jr.) — Wed, 17 Jun 2009 00:45:00 +0000

I HAVE A NEW TITLE

As I've said before, I never watch TV. But today, someone else in the house had Tivo'd an episode of some reality show in Costa Rica (I don't know the name) and they have this wretched woman on there named Janice Dickinson. She has more whines than Bordeaux. She was having this major pity party and making a total fool out of herself.

Here is what happened. My hernia was killing me. I walked into the bedroom and lay ** (note below) on the bed. I put an ice pack on my groin (not as exciting as it sounds). The TV was on. I had no way of escaping.

This woman kept carrying on that she is a Supermodel when she looks older than I am and has more plastic in her face than I have in my wallet. She reaffirmed all the reasons why I don't watch TV.

Whenever they would show her name on the screen, it would show her title. As in "Janice Dickinson, Supermodel". I don't think that is something that you are designated by some august organizing body like when you become a Bishop of the LDS church or a Knight of the Round Table. I think it is what she wants to be called and so she has everyone call her that.

So I have decided what I want to be called. From now on, I am Grover Thomas, SD (Super Deity).

When I went to write this intensely interesting and important to humanity Blog, I couldn't remember her last name (I tried to block out all memory of her) so I searched on our Internet (it is ours you know-it isn't Pluto's or Mars') and found her name. I then searched on the words "Susan Dickinson, Supermodel" and found a link titled "Janice Dickinson: "My life of sex, drugs and plastic surgery" The title explained many things and confirmed my incredibly good judgment.

I chose not to open the link and learn more about her.

Thank you for listening.

Grover Thomas, SD

** For those of you that think my grammar was wrong when I said "I lay on the bed", I gotcha. That is the right way to say it.

I have decided I need to improve my grammar and I ain't kidding about that.

I always have trouble between “lay and lie”. So, before typing the words "I lay" (since I would have normally typed "I lied", I looked it up, also on our internet (yours and mine).

I found a site with the title "Learn the Difference Between Lay and Lie". You can find it here and I hope that not too many of you go to the site at once and crash our internet.

The author of the explanation is actually quite funny. Or at least as funny as you can be with Grammar. If you want to learn (as I did) when to use lay and when to use lie, this is a good site to go to as you can smile as you learn. The author talks about dating his/her English professor. I never wanted to date my teachers as they were all nuns.

With that I will close. I cannot believe I am 200 emails behind and I decided to go off on Janice who I have never heard of before today (and hopefully never will again).

noreply@blogger.com (Grover Thomas Jr.) — Mon, 15 Jun 2009 20:31:00 +0000

VISITING MOM

After returning to Atlanta Sunday afternoon from The Spiritual Massage in Jacksonville (a truly wonderful experience), I went home, changed suitcases and caught a late night flight to Phoenix.

Monday morning, I went to see Mom, for the first time since we had told her goodbye forever as she was dying in Hospice at the end of March. I wrote about it here. Then, just because it was meant to be, she bounced back which I shared with everyone here and now I was going to see her again in the nursing home where she was now living since Hospice effectively kicked her out as she did so much better.

I walked in and couldn’t believe it. While still frail, since going off her 37 day hunger strike she has gone from 70 pounds to 85 pounds. But physically she is still weak and confined to her bed but mentally she has recovered back to the point she was at a year and a half ago when she was still living independently.

Since Hospice kicked her out for getting better she has moved into a nursing home in Phoenix. She is in the end room which is dark and depressing until Mom is there which always brightens up any room. She has an old beat up TV someone from Hopsice gave her that only gets one or two channels and they are very snowy but she says it keeps her company even though she can't hear it.

She was happy to see me and I hugged her and told her “I didn’t think I was ever going to see you again when I last left you”. She laughed and said “You and me both but here I am, although I don’t know why. I am still ready to move on”.

I told her that I had told her goodbye forever four different times and I wasn't going to do it again when I left this time. She said "I agree. It's just too hard on both of us" and laughed again as she always does.

We spent a wonderful day together. Unlike last time when I was limited to 3 or 4 minute visits before she would drift off asleep, this time she was wide awake almost all day. She was completely awake, completely aware of everything, had some of her sense of humor back and had none of the confusion or drowsiness of the last 9 months or so. Mom was acting the way I remember her for the last 15 years and that was very special. In fact, during the entire day she took only two short half hour naps.

She wanted to see photos of her great grandkids and I had some to show her of all of them. She wanted to get up to date on everyone in our family and out of the blue she said "Has Alice had her baby yet?"

I asked her why she thought she was not confused or drowsy and her reply was classic for Mom. She said "It was all those damn drugs they were giving me to keep me alive. I stopped taking all of them. And I feel so much better and since I'm not taking them anymore maybe I can leave pretty quick as it is pretty boring here."

And then, in the middle of that conversation, she said "Do you think Judge Judy has had some work done on her eyes?" (as she pointed to the snowy TV). "I think she has."

The rest of the day went like that. Just one nice moment after another with Mom and when it came time to go I said "Well, I will see you next time." since I told her I wasn't going to go through another forever farewell. She laughed and said "Yes. I will see you on your next visit." and I walked out with a smile on my face and she was laughing and there wasn't a tear in sight.

noreply@blogger.com (Grover Thomas Jr.) — Fri, 05 Jun 2009 22:16:00 +0000

SPENDING TIME WITH A TRANCE-MEDIUM

I know this will sound a little weird to those of you that don't know me well and sound very normal for those of you that do know me. Cathy, Cris and I are at a 2 and a half day event in Jacksonville Beach with about 12 other people to participate in something called Spiritual Massage.

It is being put on by a woman from Brazil named Maria Lucia Sauer who is a Trance-Medium and one of the nicest and gentlest people I have ever met. She does many things, including channeling to and communicating with our ancestors.

It is a combination of working with our energy flows, meditation, going on a shamanic journey thru drumming to find the power animal that we all have within us, a singing meditation to open your hearts and an incredible and unbelievable experience called Spiritual Massage that for an hour, as you lie on a massage table, you are taken to an altered state mostly from your partner releasing the excess energy we all have in our bodies. This is done not from massage in its traditional form, since very little touching is used but rather through some sweeping motions and lying on of the hands to release the energy.

On Thursday night, when the instructor learned I have a hernia, she put me on a table and the entire group participated in a 40 minute spiritual massage on me and for the first time in ten years or so I slept that night like a baby, without waking up and without pain for nearly 8 hours and I never sleep for more than 5 hours at a time. It was like an out of body experience for me. I've had no pain from my hernia since then.

We will spend all day today on these types of things and then when it is over we are going over to our dearest friends, Mike and Jan Newton to spend the night with them and fly back to Atlanta tomorrow. Cris will then get the boys (who are staying this weekend with Andrea and Lee) and they will fly back to DC tomorrow afternoon and tomorrow night I am flying to Phoenix to see my Mom on Monday. Being here at this retreat has helped prepare me for the emotion surrounding my visit with her.

Now, for our friends who are reading this you are likely saying "Sure, this sounds like something he would do. But how in the world did he get Cris and Cathy to go with him?"

Well, we all decided together a year ago to do this and they are enjoying it as much as I am. It is just so powerful and next year it will be in DC so we will be able to go there and attend it again.

noreply@blogger.com (Grover Thomas Jr.) — Sun, 31 May 2009 10:52:00 +0000

IT’S MY BIRTHDAY & I’M BUMMED OUT ABOUT IT.

MY FIRST DAY AT HOME AFTER MY BIRTH

Today I turn 65. Holy shit. That is old. I am really having a hard time with it. I sent my Mom two photos today. The first one was a photo of her with me on my first birthday. The second one is of me sitting in the chair in my family room this morning. Somewhere in between those two photos 64 years disappeared.

MOM AND ME ON MAY 31, 1945

ME IN ATLANTA TODAY-I EVEN LOOK OLD

I’m so bothered by this birthday that I decided not to go to the Buddhist Monastery I go to some Sundays to meditate as I thought I might start crying in the middle of it and it would freak people out.

No wonder I have a damn hernia.

My life, SO FAR (I’m nowhere done yet), has been wonderful. I have so much to be thankful for. Just a few things I’ve thought about the last few days as this day approached.

1. I have the energy of a 40 year old, the drive of a 30 year old and a schedule just a little easier than Obama’s. I clearly don't act my age. But I am my age.
2. Other than having colon cancer when I was young I've been healthy as a horse all my life. The hernia doesn’t count.
3. I married the greatest wife in the world. I had to marry her because she refused to go out with me at first and I do well when I have a challenge and a goal. I realize every day how lucky I am to have her support.
4. My parents were the best. I was always close to them mainly because they put up with all my shenanigans. I miss my Dad tremendously and as readers, you know what I am going through emotionally with my wonderful Mom, my inspiration.
5. My brother is 8 years younger than me so we didn’t hang out together as kids but over the years we have grown closer and closer. He and his wifes loving care for my Mom knows no limits.
6. I have kids that I am proud of and we have spent time together in some of the craziest parts of the world. I am full of so many good memories of my children.
7. And then there are my grandkids. Anyone that reads this knows how I feel about them.
8. I have so many good friends all over the country. Five years ago when I turned 60, 55 of these friends and our family went to Spain for my birthday party for 3 straight days and nights. We turned around and did it again 3 years later for Cathy’s birthday. That’s the kind of friends I have.
9. This issue is sensitive and has to be explained right. I don’t like to say that I am “proud” of what I have done as so many have done so much more. It is a sensistive issue as I always worry about the ability of power to corrupt people. Since I have had the opportunity to have a lot of power in the corporate world, I always worried about the risk of it corrupting me and me abusing it. So I am nervous talking about any poart of my career success.

But I do feel proud of what I achieved with the help of so many others (with #1 being Cathy).

To understand why I am proud, one has to understand where I started. Below is a photo of me and my friends taken when I was about 21. I’m the skinny one with the pool stick in my hand. I had no college, had a lousy GPA in high school and was working as a pool hustler. When I would periodically go broke I sold used cars. One half of the people in the photo are deceased (from drugs, prison, alcohol, & Vietnam) so I think I’m pretty lucky to have ended up where I am today.

STANDING LEFT TO RIGHT: ZEKE, ME, KIT, LARRY,BONANZA JIM, JUG, SALTY
SEATED LEFT TO RIGHT: BIG GEORGE, BERTHA, PUNCHIE (I SWEAR I'M NOT MAKING UP NAMES)

10. One of the cool things about the photo above has to do with my friend Salty. Like me, he didn't go to college out of high school. Rather, after he married his wonderful wife Mary, and they had their first two kids he went back to school, worked his tail off studying while supporting a growing family and became a schoolteacher and coach. I have so much admiration for him for what he did and how he dedicated his life to helping our young people become productive adults. He sent me the nicest Happy Birthday email today. Salty is a friend that I have known longer than anyone (even my wife) other than my parents and brother as we went to part of elementary school and high school together.

11. Thirteen years after that photo was taken it was 1978 and I was a Senior VP of a nationwide company and a freshman in College at 34 years of age. That is what getting married and settling down did for me.
12. Nine years later at the end of 1987 I had both my Bachelors and MBA and was made CEO of an insurance company for the first time. Yes, it does sound like I’m boasting. I am not trying to boast and apologize if it comes out that way. Rather, I’m trying to show how fortunate I have been to be blessed with working with good people and for having a family that supported me. I put a photo below from when I got my undergraduate degree. As you can see, I haven't changed at all.

12. I know I made a positive difference in some people’s lives. At the same time, as a CEO for so long, I had to make many difficult decisions on reductions in staff, outsourcing, performance problems and other complex issues that it haunts me to know that my decision impacted some people negatively even though it was right for the organization.
13. I’m often asked when I will retire. It is always awkward. I need to learn to tell the truth which is probably never. I want to continue until I drop over some day doing things that help others such as my work as Chairman of Freedom from Hunger. I realize how blessed we have been and we are trying hard to give back to those less fortunate.
14. An example of how much I am in denial about my age is AARP. They started soliciting me when I was 48 since you can become a member when you turn 50. They have spent probably $30,000 on postage sending me crap and they don’t understand that I will never join their organization even if I can buy a car for 75% off as I will never think of myself as a member of that group. I simply throw everything they send in the trash as I always think it doesn't apply to me.
15. I could have (most would say I should have) applied for Medicare and Social Security a couple of months ago. We certainly have paid a ton in taxes to contribute toward it (and thanks to our new Administration we are going to be paying even more) but it ain’t gonna happen. I may end up years from now changing my mind about this but for now, I believe the day I have to apply for Medicare or Social Security it will mean I am really old and I will just take one of those Cyanide pills the spies carry around.

In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not doing well with this birthday. But, I know what my Mom would tell me. She would say “Get over it. You are only as old as you feel and act and you neither feel nor act 65. Go out and have a party, continue helping and teaching others, be good to your family and enjoy life. Stop whining and start laughing.

Okay Mom. That’s what I am going to do. Starting as soon as I post this.

PS-ADDENDUM TO ABOVE

Three hours after posting this my sister-in-law Judie called me and said that she was with my Mom and that Mom wanted to wish me a Happy Birthday. So I talked to her for about two minutes. She was very weak and not feeling well but she said she wanted to wish me a Happy Birthday.

It was a hard but wonderful end to the day.

noreply@blogger.com (Grover Thomas Jr.) — Fri, 29 May 2009 01:21:00 +0000

HERNIAGRAPHY

I swear. I do not watch more than 20 hours of TV in an entire year. I basically think that for me, it is a waste of time. I know it is wonderful for most people, but it just doesn't fit into my list of things to do. I know that makes me a little odd.

But tonight, the National Spelling Bee was on and being a former Spelling Champion (in a class of 9), I decided to watch it. There were 11 kids, all 12 or 13 years old. Of the 11, 7 of them were children whose parents or grandparents were from India. I think that is a tribute to the people from India, including a number of them who are friends of mine and who read this Blog from India. But, I did wonder if the reason that they are so good at it is because so many people from India have such really long names?

They whacked out words like Xebec (pronounced Zeebeck), Huisache, Schizaffin or Jacqueminot with ease. I had never heard of almost all of the words although I did know the word Avoirdupois. They can ask for the origin and one would expect the answer to be things like Latin, Greek, French or other well known languages. But one of the origins was Paiute. Paiute? How many of us are familiar with the Pauite langauge? The only words I know are Kemo Sabe.

I'm such an emotional wimp on things (maybe why I don't watch TV) that I would get all teary everytime they spelled their word right, which was often. I used an entire box of Kleenex.

But my ears perked up when one of the words was HERNIAGRAPHY. Th e definition is the procedure used to repair a Hernia. Like the Hernia I have. I won't find out until Monday what the procedure will be, but doesn't the word Herniagraphy just scare the crap out of you? Or me?

So, I went to Google and input the word Herniagraphy. This is what came up. I feel so much calmer now knowing that this is what it means.

noreply@blogger.com (Grover Thomas Jr.) — Tue, 26 May 2009 03:01:00 +0000

A STORY ABOUT MY MOM

For those of you that know my Mom and keep track of her through my Blog, I encourage you to click here to read in the News About Mickey Blog (my Mom's nickname is Mickey) that my brother writes every Sunday.

This story defines my Mom and why she is still with us against all odds. If you read this story you will see why I say she is my role model and my inspiration.

Hope everyone had a good weekend. It was nice for me to finally be home other than when I sneezed and as a reuslt, ended up in the ER today with a Hernia. I have to meet with the surgeon tomorrow or Wednesday. This Memorial Day turned out to be a Memorable holiday for me.

But the PA at the hospital said I was either a runner (I was for years but not now), a Yoga afficionado (no) or a Meditator because my pulse rate was "incredibly low" for my age. That "for your age" always irritates me but I was happy that my meditation is keeping me healthy. It appears meditating does nothing to prevent hernias however.