A few weeks ago, I wrote about the last time it snowed in Los Angeles.  A journalist friend, whom I trust, responded that the snow fell in 1949, not 1952.  So that calls for, if not a retraction, at least a caveat – do not trust me to be entirely accurate in this blog other than about my own thoughts and feelings.  I have always been semi-allergic to researching details because I find any project that takes more than three minutes has the potential to become seriously boring, and at my age I want to be amused, not bored.  Actually, that was true for me when I was younger as well.

During the past week the formerly good (but now, sadly, not so great) ship Viking Mars has suffered the indignity of being refused entry to one port because a freighter is stuck at the dock that was destined for us.  Also, one of the engines isn’t working (on a ship fewer than six months old), so we are headed directly to Melbourne for repairs rather than to Hobart in Tasmania.  Hobart promised to be a lot more interesting.

Also, the ship has run out of eggs – I kid you not!  So, no scrambled eggs for me this morning.

By the time you read this Daveen and I should be back home.  I have found that the best part of any vacation is walking into my bedroom at the end of my travels.  Home is where there are no stuck freighters or malfunctioning engines, and always . . . plenty of eggs.

A few days ago I began to write my rememoirs (I hope I am the first author to use that word).  I intend my rememoirs to be a humorous, perhaps touching, account of my first 83 years of adventures on this earth, or, as Heinlein wrote, in this strange land.  Memoirs are, presumably, what actually happened.  A rememior is what you remember happened.  The two are seldom identical.

Well, it’s almost time for an eggless breakfast (Oatmeal, anyone?).  The ship is rocking and Daveen has been in bed for almost an entire day. But I am reading another excellent book — Chancellor, a biography about Angela Merkel who was the outstanding, but not perfect, former Chancellor of Germany.

One of her guiding principles, for both herself and her country, is that you can’t do it alone.  I heartily second that idea and I’m grateful for everyone in my life who has helped me There are, and have been, many.

I’m looking forward to whipping up some scrambled eggs at home.

Alan

One of my favorite activities when I’m on vacation is to read.  On this trip I brought along two books by Bill Bryson, an American-British journalist and author.  Both books were national bestsellers.

The first book, At Home, is a marvelous read – all 532 pages.  If you are at all interested in British history, I recommend that you put it high on your list of books to read.  In fact, I’d make the same recommendation even if you don’t care a bit about history – British or otherwise. Bryson is a masterful storyteller.

The second book, One Summer—America 1927, is also narrative nonfiction that is both informative and highly entertaining.  It’s filled with amusing anecdotes and a fascinating cast of characters. I laughed out loud when I read this about Babe Ruth:

Babe Ruth was driving a car in New York one afternoon and was pulled over by a traffic cop.

“This is a one way street,” the cop said.

Ruth replied, “I was only driving one way.”

I don’t read many books that change the way I think about life, but each of these books qualifies.  For example, here is a particularly insightful passage on the impact of American movies around the world:

“Moviegoers around the world suddenly found themselves exposed, often for the first time, to American voices, American vocabulary, American cadence and pronunciation and word order…The psychological effect of this, particularly on the young, can hardly be overstated.  With American speech came American thoughts, American attitudes, American humor and sensibilities.  Peacefully, by accident, and almost unnoticed, America had just taken over the world.”

Enough said.  I hope you’ll have the opportunity to read each book.

Daveen and I are traveling on the new Viking ship Mars.  We love the ship and, perhaps unfortunately (for my waistline), the food is outstanding.

I’ve thought for many years that today is the best time in history to be alive, and the best place to live is in the United States.  Of course, I haven’t had the opportunity to live elsewhere, and who knows what the next century may offer. It could be even better. But I’m a practical guy.  Apologies to Daveen, but why not love the one you’re with?

I love all of you as well, but now I’m off to dinner.

Alan

During the past week Daveen and I have been touring New Zealand.  I brought my laptop with me solely for the purpose of writing my blog while we’re away.  I know I must be relaxed, because it took me almost a minute to remember my password.

It’s Sunday here, and we spent a lovely day cruising on Lake Taupo then enjoying a massage in our beautiful room at Huka lodge, which I recommend – unless you want to lose weight.  The food is far too delicious.

This blog may be more succinct than usual because it’s late and we’re leaving early tomorrow morning for Auckland to continue our adventure.

I realize that normally we travel for between ten and twelve weeks out of every year.  But the past several years have been anything but normal.  In February 2020, I read a book about the so-called Spanish Flu of 1918. I remember feeling thankful that we live in an age of modern medicine in which a pandemic wouldn’t be possible.  Little did I know that in less than a month Covid-19 would sweep the planet and drastically change the way we lived.   This is only our second major trip since 2020.

And yet, while I am relaxing on the other side of the world, I keep up with the news from home.  I see that snow has actually fallen in Los Angeles.  The last time that happened was, I believe, in 1952.  It was a Saturday.  I was twelve years old and wanted to play in the snow, but I had a piano lesson.  My parents insisted I attend.  By the time I returned home the snow had melted.

As they say, life is what happens while you’re making plans. Or practicing the piano. Or on vacation in the wilds of New Zealand. We’ve all weathered the past few years as best we can.

While I’m sorry to have missed my chance to play in the snow in Los Angeles for a second time, I’m grateful to once again be enjoying the joys of traveling.

Love to all.

Alan