Sunday, September 17, 2017

How the trip began....

Anyone more superstitious than me might begin to think the annual September journey to Oak Island has a Joe Btfsplk cloud over it. (Anyone besides me remember Joe Btfsplk??)

The last time we drove there John's Range Rover broke down on the Jersey Turnpike. I road to New Haven with the toe truck and Andrew drove down to get John, Bern and Sherry.

Then last year Mimi and Tim didn't come because Eleanor was a new born and Bern and I didn't go because I ruptured my quad muscle and had surgery. So John and Sherry were alone in a four bedroom house for a week!

This year our 11 a.m. flight from Hartford to Myrtle Beach got canceled at 7 a.m. because South Carolina was in one of the paths of Irma and since flights out of most of the southern states were shut down they couldn't get enough flight crews to Myrtle Beach.

I was on my way to the Kennel with Bela when Bern called and said 'speed back, we have to go to New Haven'.

Somehow John or Sherry had gotten us 5 seats on a Delta flight to Raleigh at 11:30 and we broke land speed records getting to LaGuardia. Raleigh is 3 hours from Oak Island while Myrtle Beach is 40 minutes. So we got to the island later than we'd hoped.

But after getting into the house and finding it wondrous and having a fish dinner at Jones' Seafood, Mimi, Tim and Eleanor arrived--also from Raleigh--and all was right with the world....

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some ponderings by an aging white man who is an Episcopal priest in Connecticut. Now retired but still working and still wondering what it all means...all of it.