Ice skating without the blades

We have left freezing temperatures in Fort Wayne for balmy temperatures in Fort Myers, Florida. Allegiant Airlines has a direct flight into Tampa-St. Petersburg, and it was a great flight - a little over two hours, nice seats, and best of all: no connections. Our friends flying down today were not so lucky - they decided to fly out of Indianapolis, and in the winter storm they were unable to get out of town. They ended up taking a limousine to Detroit, where they will be flying into Ft. Myers - good for them for finally getting here, but they've dealt with a whole day of having to make phone calls and get really creative.

We've been to the beaches at Ft. Myers and Sanibel Island, while the weather was beautiful and in the 70s. Today some clouds and winds moved in, so we looked for an alternative. We chose going to the greyhound racing track at Bonita Springs. It's a slice of life if you have never had the experience. If you like to gamble you'll fall right into the culture, trust me on this. Whether you read the stats or play the odds or simply like the look of a dog or how s/he acts on the way to the post, you'll get into it. And somehow, over the years, everyone always enjoys the simple entertainment of the trainers running away from the track - a footrace for the underpaid working class - you'll feel like a Roman gladiator basking in the coliseum, whether you realize it or not.

But my memory today was about good old Fort Wayne. There was a day like this a few years ago, before children, when we were downtown in the Fort for some event. Now is the time of year for ice and snow. It was an icy day then, probably between 9 p.m. and midnight, and we were traveling on the city streets in the car. It was a black ice, hard to see, but extremely slick. The kind that would make your feet fly out from under you and give you a concussion in a second. My husband, driving, stopped at a red light, and this urge came over me. I knew there was enough ice to slide as if on skates in street shoes. Without telling him, I watched the traffic light for the perpendicular traffic, and when I saw it go yellow, meaning green for us in seconds, I jumped out of the car. My husband, shocked, craned his neck behind the wheel to watch me slide back to the rear bumper of the car.

The light changed, and there were cars behind us, honking. He was pissed, but he had to drive forward - and I was bumper surfing - ice skating behind the car on downtown city streets. It was great, I was euphoric - until the police cherry lights behind us lit up the downtown
sky.


We were pulled over. What I was doing was illegal. We would have been given a big ticket, but my husband was furious with me, and the policeman saw that. Basically, what he said, was there was nothing he could have done that was any more punishment than what my husband was going to do to me for putting him in that position. He probably had worse criminals, or hooligans, to deal with that night. And somehow, he let us go.

That's the midwest, and Fort Wayne; that icy, that dangerous. Opportunity, fun, and danger. I could have cracked my head open, as they say; but it didn't happen. I was fortunate. For a few seconds, bumper surfing was a lot of fun. It's a distant memory, and I can still see Fort Wayne's beautiful downtown buildings overhead as my feet slid as if on skates behind the car. Even with the cop car behind us, somehow it was worth it. I'm not saying, however, I would do it all over again. And tomorrow, on this far-away vacation, gentle Florida will revive us all again. What a beautiful nation we live in. Goodnight and sweet dreams, all.

When the River Freezes Over

A new dynamic comes into play when a pond or river freezes over in the Midwest. Real estate, navigable previously only for boaters in good weather, has suddenly appeared on the scene. For kids growing up in Indiana, there is a whole new reality to explore, territory to claim, play to be had.





We live right on a riverbank, and what had been inaccessible all summer and fall is now there for the taking. One can stand beside the dock and look under it. You can see what kinds of vines and nests are hanging in the tree branches that extended out over the river. You can actually look in the wood duck nest box and see if a small owl has claimed it, which often it has.





The kids come out with their sleds and saucers, and attack the ice. They pull each other with ropes and twirl sleds in circles. They have snowball fights and sword fights with sticks. They yell, scream, shout, and no one can hear them in the cold. What a great thing to experience as a kid.





I've seen mink or ermine bouncing shyly along the bank, gracefully hunting. Squirrels and songbirds show up cheerfully against the white back drop. Hopefully a smart man I know will chop holes in the ice with an axe in various places, to test its thickness. But invariably, regardless, kids will venture out on their own after many days of bitter cold, braving the wrath of fearful or cautious adults who seem them. The kids just can't resist.





Snow angels, snow nests, snow men, snow forts - I just saw a huge snow leaf-ball. The creative possibilities are endless. And the kids get out there while they can, exploring this newly-existing real estate, exploiting it before it's gone, mushy and faded, into slushy slop and eventually cold fluid again.

Checking for tracks in the snow (deer, rabbit, raccoon, cats) are good clue-solving opportunities for kids. Looking through clear ice to see things on the river bottom, they marvel. The miracle of ice, water, and nature is there for the taking. Sure, the cold grows tiresome, and we begin to yearn for spring and warm weather, but there really is a time and a season to enjoy the magic of the cold, the river ice. There's nothing much more romantic than skating on an icy night with a big full moon overhead, clutching the mittened hand of your companion - takes you back, doesn't it? Indiana, you're not so bad after all.

Being Happy in the Fort

One thing I think it is possible to be in Fort Wayne is happy. This is a very important thing, and the right to pursue this very thing was considered unalienable by our founding fathers. But, happiness is such a subjective thing, I think it is often easier to be happier in some places than in others.

So what is there to be happy about in Fort Wayne? Steady real estate values, for one thing. Prices for homes are not too high, and they hold their values. The cost of living is not bad here. Fort Wayne is not so large as for there to be traffic jams all the time, like there are in Chicago or Indianapolis. There is enough home-townishness to make the little things seem real; important things such as school and church. It's large enough here for us to have a Jewish neighbor family. Nearby Amish and Myanmar refugees are living in the same county - they too have a shot at a better quality of life than what their parents had.

It's not the greatest job market, but lots of folks are working. It doesn't have the best winters, but not the worst, either. There are lots of parks; activities and sports for kids; a zoo, an airport, history.

But happiness is not all about where you live. It's a state of mind. And if a person really wants to be happy, he has to first identify what truly are the basic sources of his happiness and then make priorities in life based on these. And I would also argue it means recognizing destructive mental states and stopping or changing these as much as possible. I do believe we can train our minds to be happier, and we owe it to ourselves and those around us to do just that.

There is a whole process to doing that, an ancient and modern process - maybe many processes. I won't go into all that right now. But it is something definitely worth pursuing daily. And if nothing else, just showing kindness and compassion for others help us be less closed off, or 'into ourselves,' so that we can be more open for happiness. Being into ourselves, we see problems and feel less happy: when we are thinking about and are doing for others, we forget about ourselves and strangely feel happier.

It is not a simple matter to change one's outlook. It takes work. Change can be slow, and we are human. And there certainly is no avoiding pain and suffering - it simply is part of life. The holidays are a time to focus on these things - not just run around worrying about what isn't getting done. Spending time not worrying about the lists and actually taking a few moments to be together - fight for that time (nicely) with your family and friends. And if you can, focus on what it feels like to simply

just appreciate that.

Oyster Roast at Folly Beach

Folly Island, along the Atlantic coast just east of Charleston, South Carolina, is dear to my heart. Several times I got away from chilly Indiana winters and took a sojourn here to meet up with a dear friend - an environmentalist, surfer woman, and champion of endangered sea turtles, among other things. Sara is a Fort Wayne native, a former employee of the Fort Wayne Children's Zoo, and she was employed with the South Carolina parks department in environmental education work at the time.

To fly from Fort Wayne International airport, it usually requires a connection into a city such as Cincinnati, but it's not all that far to the southern East Coast from Indiana. And fall is the time to do one of my favorite things in that area - take part in an oyster roast.

Folly is not a terribly large island - it was convenient for us to ride our bikes through town (beach cruisers of course) all the way to the county park at the beach. The oyster roast is set up at an open-air pavilion. Rough-hewn tables fashioned from large timbers stretched the length of the pavilion, three rows across. Large holes jig-sawed in the middle of these tables gave access to garbage cans positioned underneath.

People lined up standing at the tables as if they were bellying up to a bar. Men came carrying huge kettle drums steaming with roasted oysters. Two men on either side of the kettle dumped the steaming oysters in front of the people, who took knives and towels, and pried the oysters apart. They dipped piecesof oyster meat in fresh cocktail sauce and munched on crackers. Then they threw the empty shells through the holes in the center of the tables - saving spaces at the outside of the tables for people instead of trash cans. Mind you there are lots and lots of oyster shells flying -they add up.

We went through piles and piles of large grey local oysters (years before anyone had heard of a gulf oil spill) and we pried, and talked, and laughed like crazy. The whole community came out, young and old, and it was a great, wonderful smelling party.

To compliment the seafood were pots of chili, as part of a cooking contest. Crock pots, plastic cups and spoons tempted everyone to try. Shredded cheeses, sour cream, hot sauces, and oyster crackers stood by. After sampling chili and speaking to each dish's creator if one so chose, guests had the opportunity to vote for one's favorite. Winners' dishes made their way on to the menus of a couple of local restaurants.

I'm not going to be able to make a beach trip this fall. But for anyone with the time, it's well worth it. A campfire at an out-of-the-way beach makes for special memories. I promise it is something you'll never forget.