The lousy weather finally broke and we were blessed with a gorgeous Independence weekend. On the evening of the 4th, Kevin and I climbed up to our roof and took in the fireworks show. It was the perfect ending to a great day!
Monday, July 6, 2009
Happy Independence Day from Boston!
The lousy weather finally broke and we were blessed with a gorgeous Independence weekend. On the evening of the 4th, Kevin and I climbed up to our roof and took in the fireworks show. It was the perfect ending to a great day!
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Memories from Miami
I was recently in Miami to spend some time with my mother and my friends, attend a wedding and to celebrate my younger brother's 30th birthday. It was a great time and I was amazed at how many activities i was able to pack into such a short amount of time! Here are some souvenirs...
Here's me with my new friend the hedgehog!
Mariano needs to be fed...
...so he can continue to grow! (Note the cool t-shirt he is wearing: Its Kevin in his racing days!)
Me with WWF's "Big Show", Paul Wight. What a guy :)
Here's me with my new friend the hedgehog!
Mariano needs to be fed...
...so he can continue to grow! (Note the cool t-shirt he is wearing: Its Kevin in his racing days!)
Me with WWF's "Big Show", Paul Wight. What a guy :)
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Goodbye to Fasi from Pakistan!
Yesterday we said goodbye to our friend Fasi Zaka. He is a journalist we met while in Pakistan, and the second friend made during our RTW trip to visit us. He was with us for about two weeks and spent most of his time campaigning with Kevin. He and Kevin have decided that they are twins (born a mere 10 years appart) because they share so much in common in terms of political views, taste in music, sense of humor and outlook on life. Fasi was great fun to have around and we will miss his imposing presence in our home!
Sunday, January 4, 2009
First chapter of our (hopeful) book about our adventure honeymoon trip around the world!
My heart was pounding in this unrecognized country as my wife and I left the windowless room and walked down the stark concrete hallway with explicit instructions to bring our valuables back with us. She had just verbally dueled in four languages with the two armed, threatening and corrupt army officers who insisted we hand over our computer and all our money. She asked under her breath “do you have the passports?” I had cautiously retrieved our passports from the official’s desk during her heated diversion, as per her plans. I let her know they were in my pocket.
She quietly but forcefully instructed: “When we get to our bikes, put your helmet on, start the motorcycle, and make a run for it.” My heart beat faster and louder in response to her audacity as we passed a couple similar enclosures identified in English and Cyrillic as ‘Interrogation Room’. Tension built as we opened the door into the afternoon sunlight, walked past the guard tower where I had been alternately berated and ignored by the Patton-like General and his AK-47 toting subordinates overseeing the place. I had earlier been told in no uncertain terms to check in with them (and pay them off) before leaving. I stared straight ahead and went towards the two adventure motorcycles, one red, one blue, both stacked with gear, metal panniers, tankbags, and spare tires on the far side of the parking area.
We tried to act casual as we got to the bikes, and I asked “are you sure?” There was finality in her tone as she responded “I’m not giving these bastards anything more”. We swung legs over our steeds, and rode slowly in our usual pattern of me in front, Clara behind, as we headed towards the guard protecting the exit of the country across the long border bridge. Before we finished the thirty second ride, I already sensed a commotion behind me. I slowed down and came to a stop beside the young neatly dressed sentry, killing the engine with my handlebar switch but leaving the key locked in ignition mode. His heavy accent on my clutch side barked out “Passport”. While twisting and sweeping my arm to the left, I said in words I knew he wouldn’t understand “they checked the passports back there” as I indicated and looked behind me.
In the foreground was Clara, her bike still running; in the background I could see our interrogators emerging from the building, heading our way and beginning to cause a ruckus. Quickly I asked her what she wanted to do and she exasperatedly exclaimed “Just go!” During this rear viewing my right thumb had instinctively put my kill switch into ‘on’ mode.
As I turned forward the sentry looked back, his eyes and my eyes crossed paths and a torrent of information was exchanged in hundredths of a second. I could sense that he knew something was wrong but he was initially perplexed. I could see him processing multiple inputs as fast as his synapses would fire: number one was that my eyes gave away that I wasn’t doing what I was supposed to, number two was that his bosses were yelling at him about something, number 3 was the realization that his bosses were yelling about me, number 4 was that I planned on leaving. By the time he arrived at number 5, and realized that he should stop me, we were losing eye contact as I looked forward and he needed to snap his neck back like a pendulum to the problem at hand.
The element of surprise was in my favor as I pushed the ignition button as he reactively reached for my key. I twisted the throttle and swerved around the gate while simultaneously a sense of terror and dread came over me as I hoped and prayed that he wouldn’t be able to stop Clara, or that Clara wouldn’t stall, or any of a dozen other horrible things that could happen but I didn’t have the time or fortitude to visualize in my mind. I looked back once I straightened out on the concrete and she had gunned her single cylinder bike with half the horsepower of mine right behind my tracks while the sentry had a discombobulated look and posture.
During this whole encounter which lasted less than ten seconds, my heart had raced like never before, my mind calculated multiple scenarios and actions at warp speed, and adrenaline pumped like nitrous through my arteries. As I looked across the long bridge, hoping there was another country on the other side my brain had time to slow down to just parallel processing speed, and I had two thoughts. One was the nerdy physicist side of my brain trying to determine whether I would hear the gunfire before the bullets pierced my back or if it would just come as a surprise. The second thought was that I had absolutely married the most amazing woman on the planet, and how special it was to travel the world with her!
She quietly but forcefully instructed: “When we get to our bikes, put your helmet on, start the motorcycle, and make a run for it.” My heart beat faster and louder in response to her audacity as we passed a couple similar enclosures identified in English and Cyrillic as ‘Interrogation Room’. Tension built as we opened the door into the afternoon sunlight, walked past the guard tower where I had been alternately berated and ignored by the Patton-like General and his AK-47 toting subordinates overseeing the place. I had earlier been told in no uncertain terms to check in with them (and pay them off) before leaving. I stared straight ahead and went towards the two adventure motorcycles, one red, one blue, both stacked with gear, metal panniers, tankbags, and spare tires on the far side of the parking area.
We tried to act casual as we got to the bikes, and I asked “are you sure?” There was finality in her tone as she responded “I’m not giving these bastards anything more”. We swung legs over our steeds, and rode slowly in our usual pattern of me in front, Clara behind, as we headed towards the guard protecting the exit of the country across the long border bridge. Before we finished the thirty second ride, I already sensed a commotion behind me. I slowed down and came to a stop beside the young neatly dressed sentry, killing the engine with my handlebar switch but leaving the key locked in ignition mode. His heavy accent on my clutch side barked out “Passport”. While twisting and sweeping my arm to the left, I said in words I knew he wouldn’t understand “they checked the passports back there” as I indicated and looked behind me.
In the foreground was Clara, her bike still running; in the background I could see our interrogators emerging from the building, heading our way and beginning to cause a ruckus. Quickly I asked her what she wanted to do and she exasperatedly exclaimed “Just go!” During this rear viewing my right thumb had instinctively put my kill switch into ‘on’ mode.
As I turned forward the sentry looked back, his eyes and my eyes crossed paths and a torrent of information was exchanged in hundredths of a second. I could sense that he knew something was wrong but he was initially perplexed. I could see him processing multiple inputs as fast as his synapses would fire: number one was that my eyes gave away that I wasn’t doing what I was supposed to, number two was that his bosses were yelling at him about something, number 3 was the realization that his bosses were yelling about me, number 4 was that I planned on leaving. By the time he arrived at number 5, and realized that he should stop me, we were losing eye contact as I looked forward and he needed to snap his neck back like a pendulum to the problem at hand.
The element of surprise was in my favor as I pushed the ignition button as he reactively reached for my key. I twisted the throttle and swerved around the gate while simultaneously a sense of terror and dread came over me as I hoped and prayed that he wouldn’t be able to stop Clara, or that Clara wouldn’t stall, or any of a dozen other horrible things that could happen but I didn’t have the time or fortitude to visualize in my mind. I looked back once I straightened out on the concrete and she had gunned her single cylinder bike with half the horsepower of mine right behind my tracks while the sentry had a discombobulated look and posture.
During this whole encounter which lasted less than ten seconds, my heart had raced like never before, my mind calculated multiple scenarios and actions at warp speed, and adrenaline pumped like nitrous through my arteries. As I looked across the long bridge, hoping there was another country on the other side my brain had time to slow down to just parallel processing speed, and I had two thoughts. One was the nerdy physicist side of my brain trying to determine whether I would hear the gunfire before the bullets pierced my back or if it would just come as a surprise. The second thought was that I had absolutely married the most amazing woman on the planet, and how special it was to travel the world with her!
Thursday, December 25, 2008
Merry Christmas!!!
Christmas Day 2008
Merry Christmas and season’s greetings of peace to all.
Since I was young, I have enjoyed the annual Christmas letter sent from my daredevil pilot uncle Michael. I’ve tried to send one out every year for awhile, because time and life is short and Clara and I have made so many friends whom we wish all lived on our block so that we could spend more time with, and stay closer to. But such are the vagaries of life, that we spread hither and dither, and some of you express appreciation to know what we are up to. If you have heard it all before, skip the rest of this and come over for a drink sooner rather than later, for the rest of you: Read on!
As most of you know, Clara and I took 2007 to ride our motorcycles around the world. We spent last Christmas in Udaipur, India where James Bond’s Octopussy was shot. We are hoping to write a book about our travels to 42 or so countries; I want to call it “The World is Full of Good People”, Clara who is smarter and more practical thinks it should be called “Adventure Honeymoon: Building Bridges to the World”. Either way, she is the star of the book, a five-foot-two-inch dynamo who had less than 1000 miles of seat time on her bike, taking off for what would be 36,000 miles on the odometer as we circumnavigated the Globe, through Central and South America, Europe, the Middle East, the Subcontinent and Himalayas before ending in South East Asia. It was difficult at first, with her experiencing a few drops and falls, and our getting used to each other and the rhythms of the road. In Mexico and Ecuador it was NOT okay to take pictures of her sliding through a puddle and getting mixed up in a barbed wire fence. By Bolivia, it was okay to snap a shot of her sideways in a sand dune desert that passed as a highway. When we got to Transdneistr, she was staring down corrupt Cyrellian guards as I was trembling in my boots. To read more, please visit our blog at www.motomoments.blogspot.com. To all of our new friends we met along the way, thank you so much for all of your help, and for confirming for me the basic goodness of most people.
We arrived back in Boston in March, although we had rented out the BIG House and didn’t get back in it until July, so in the meantime we lived in a one bedroom section-8 apartment of ours in Roxbury. For Clara it was confining, for me it was like being in college again, sleeping in sleeping-bags on a mattress on the floor, an old door on two file boxes serving as a desk. We cleaned the back yard and planted a garden, as Clara looked for work, and I got back up to speed with construction stuff. It ended up being a brutal few months, as I was working on renovating a house recently purchased by the people renting our house. It is amazing to me how the rich (they make $500,000 a year between them) can be so nasty and miserable. We eventually had to evict them from our house, as they screwed over everyone from roofers, to heating people to electricians. They owed one subcontractor $500, sent him a check for $250 with a note that said “times are tough for everyone”. The problem is that working people are so used to getting the shaft from the rich that they tolerate it. For example, President Bush, Congress and the Bailout. Somehow I don’t think many of you reading this are going to get your share of the $20,000.00 or so per person they just handed out to Wall Street. The rich get richer and the poor get poorer. Welcome to America!
Meanwhile, Clara couldn’t find a job back with the Veteran’s Administration where she had worked. Her doctoral specialty is Posttraumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). Why would the VA need anyone with experience in PTSD working with Veterans??? Probably because we ONLY have two wars going on, and our vets are already not getting all the care they need. So, she took a job which she is really enjoying, working within walking distance at a private practice here in Boston. Seems as if non-veterans have the need and money to afford Clara’s excellent service.
Amazingly, the corruption in Boston hadn’t been solved in the two years that I was gone. I started to blog again about the myriad roadblocks that City and State government put up to keep residents from doing honest business and getting good schooling for their kids. Some people have started to take notice, and I was recently hired as a columnist by the South End News, my local weekly paper which had been keeping tabs on my ranting. The column was named by Clara and is called ‘No Comment?!’ in honor of all those politicians who won’t answer questions. It can be found at http://southendnews.com Only my city councilor and my state senator are currently under indictment by the FBI. My state representative who told me two years ago he was going to call me back after the election to talk about my ideas for Open government reforms has not been arrested and has not called me back. Yet.
This year we received the decision in the lawsuit McCrea v. Boston City Council in which the Boston City Council has spent about $200,000 of taxpayer money fighting an $11,000 fine in defending the Council’s right to meet behind closed doors and talk about the planning, zoning and development of the City, and other things and exclude the public from knowing anything about it. It went through the appeals court, and the McCrea decision is now case law in Massachusetts. The City Council plead guilty to all remaining counts in November to avoid a trial, setting our case up to be the largest fine in state history for a body violating the Open Meeting Law. Every once in awhile the citizens win one, thanks to my co-plaintiffs Shirley and Kathleen, who spoke to truth to power and to $600-an-hour lawyers and won.
I took Clara to the beaches of Central America for her birthday in August. While we were there, I decided to try the other side of the fence and “play ball” with a local politician. With my limited-but-getting-better Spanish I negotiated a deal with a guy running for Mayor. I would give him $50 and a pair of boxing gloves, and if he got elected he would let me exceed the zoning limits and build a hotel with a rooftop casino, if I hired some of his friends and family members to do some construction and engineering on the building. It really opened my eyes to how things get done in Boston, and what is the problem with that??? It creates jobs!! It cleans up neglected neighborhoods!! Everyone is a winner!!! Well, except for all the people left in shadows around me, and whose views I would block, but hey they have less money than me so they have less rights right? Unfortunately, I heard he lost the election.
My South End Youth baseball team, The GIANTS, won the championship again. We are undefeated in the playoffs for the last 4 years running. The kids were the champs, not me, as I lost my composure and had to retire early. I’m probably asking too much for the league to abide by the rules it sets for itself. As Clara would say, I’m a tortured individual who finds problems everywhere instead of seeing the glass half full. We had a bunch of great kids on the team who have been with me for years, including a new kid this year: God. Yes, I drafted God West in the second round (unbelievable: God was still available in the second round. I know!) and his adorable smile and attitude, as well as other great players like Ryan, Jorge, William made for a great summer. There really is a special warmth in the heart when you hear a kid call you “coach” with adoration, respect, and desire for instruction. I recommend it to everyone. Thanks to fellow coaches Mario, Bill and Ryan for a great year. Mario got me to go VT for a weekend wiffleball tournament to raise money for the Travis Roy foundation. Nothing like two straight days of pitching whiffle ball on miniature Fenway Park and Wrigley Field diamonds to remind you that you are not a teenager anymore.
Another thing that makes you realize you are not a teenager is breaking your wrist playing basketball with a bunch of big, strong Northeastern University “kids”. I was fortunate enough to do this in September, so that by the time our Thanksgiving family get-together happened in Hawaii I could take off the cast and swim, although it wasn’t strong enough to surf. The stench in my cousin’s house, however, was strong enough to get Clara to move out after one night and into a beautiful beach-front resort. There are compromises to be made in marriage, I’m learning. Don’t get me started on the state of health care in the country, as this is a family newsletter. But why would you pay 50% more for something that is of inferior quality? USA wake up!
I’m sorry if any of you lost money in this tiny correction that is happening, but, you trusted Congress, President Bush and Wall Street with your money. What were you thinking? And people call me crazy????
On a serious note, friends have noticed a difference with me and Clara since we’ve returned. Living for over a year out of 4 metal boxes makes you appreciate what is and isn’t important in life. We are more appreciative of time and friends, of conserving the world, intolerant of intolerant people and religions, and less materialistic. (Hard to believe I could be less of a consumer, but I am.) I love the library! I’m currently designing and hope to start building this year an off-the-grid house, with recyclable grey water; it is an interesting challenge.
The happiest man I know, is a motorcyclist from the D BIG BIKES motorcycle club in Thailand who befriended us and let us stay with him in Bangkok, and spent much time helping us to ship our bikes back to the USA. He has sold everything and is back to being a Buddhist monk in north Thailand (All Thai men spend time as a monk young in life, even the King). He is eternally giving and happy, and we stay in touch. All he has is his orange robe and his bowl to beg for his meals every morning. Life is a state of mind, and if we choose to be happy and to bring happiness, it will be returned. I am grateful to Ood for including me in his life.
This country was built on fantastic ideals, worth fighting and dying for. People around the world look to us as a beacon of hope for what is possible if we are given freedom and equal rights. They are smart enough to separate George Bush from the rest of us, but they question what direction we are going. It saddens me to have to spoil their vision of America, of a land without corruption, where everyone gets the same chances. My time in New Orleans shattered that ideal. We visited Tsunami-ravaged areas in Southeast Asia where they have completely rebuilt, but when I went back to New Orleans in September it almost seemed as if nothing had been done in the year-and-half since I left.
However, to end on a positive note, one of my favorite quotes from Winston Churchill “America can always be counted on to do the right thing…After they have exhausted all other possibilities.”
Let’s work together to do the right thing. Don’t tolerate empty platitudes from your elected officials. Even better, run against them! You will always have two votes from Clara and I. Make new friends, come visit us old ones or invite us to see you! Clara is excited about getting back on her bike in the springtime and finding new adventures!!!
Have a great New Year’s and 2009
Peace and Love,
Kevin and Clara
218 West Springfield Street
Boston MA 02118
P.S. Check out FireWater’s album: The Golden Hour. I can’t stop playing it. An American musician fed up with George Bush and our wars, traveled around the Middle East and Southeast Asia to meet our “enemies” (sound familiar?) He made music with local musicians, recorded it on his Mac and it is great. I crank it up and dance to it, it gives me energy to keep fighting the MAN. See it on Youtube: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d52mb9xeGwI
Merry Christmas and season’s greetings of peace to all.
Since I was young, I have enjoyed the annual Christmas letter sent from my daredevil pilot uncle Michael. I’ve tried to send one out every year for awhile, because time and life is short and Clara and I have made so many friends whom we wish all lived on our block so that we could spend more time with, and stay closer to. But such are the vagaries of life, that we spread hither and dither, and some of you express appreciation to know what we are up to. If you have heard it all before, skip the rest of this and come over for a drink sooner rather than later, for the rest of you: Read on!
As most of you know, Clara and I took 2007 to ride our motorcycles around the world. We spent last Christmas in Udaipur, India where James Bond’s Octopussy was shot. We are hoping to write a book about our travels to 42 or so countries; I want to call it “The World is Full of Good People”, Clara who is smarter and more practical thinks it should be called “Adventure Honeymoon: Building Bridges to the World”. Either way, she is the star of the book, a five-foot-two-inch dynamo who had less than 1000 miles of seat time on her bike, taking off for what would be 36,000 miles on the odometer as we circumnavigated the Globe, through Central and South America, Europe, the Middle East, the Subcontinent and Himalayas before ending in South East Asia. It was difficult at first, with her experiencing a few drops and falls, and our getting used to each other and the rhythms of the road. In Mexico and Ecuador it was NOT okay to take pictures of her sliding through a puddle and getting mixed up in a barbed wire fence. By Bolivia, it was okay to snap a shot of her sideways in a sand dune desert that passed as a highway. When we got to Transdneistr, she was staring down corrupt Cyrellian guards as I was trembling in my boots. To read more, please visit our blog at www.motomoments.blogspot.com. To all of our new friends we met along the way, thank you so much for all of your help, and for confirming for me the basic goodness of most people.
We arrived back in Boston in March, although we had rented out the BIG House and didn’t get back in it until July, so in the meantime we lived in a one bedroom section-8 apartment of ours in Roxbury. For Clara it was confining, for me it was like being in college again, sleeping in sleeping-bags on a mattress on the floor, an old door on two file boxes serving as a desk. We cleaned the back yard and planted a garden, as Clara looked for work, and I got back up to speed with construction stuff. It ended up being a brutal few months, as I was working on renovating a house recently purchased by the people renting our house. It is amazing to me how the rich (they make $500,000 a year between them) can be so nasty and miserable. We eventually had to evict them from our house, as they screwed over everyone from roofers, to heating people to electricians. They owed one subcontractor $500, sent him a check for $250 with a note that said “times are tough for everyone”. The problem is that working people are so used to getting the shaft from the rich that they tolerate it. For example, President Bush, Congress and the Bailout. Somehow I don’t think many of you reading this are going to get your share of the $20,000.00 or so per person they just handed out to Wall Street. The rich get richer and the poor get poorer. Welcome to America!
Meanwhile, Clara couldn’t find a job back with the Veteran’s Administration where she had worked. Her doctoral specialty is Posttraumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). Why would the VA need anyone with experience in PTSD working with Veterans??? Probably because we ONLY have two wars going on, and our vets are already not getting all the care they need. So, she took a job which she is really enjoying, working within walking distance at a private practice here in Boston. Seems as if non-veterans have the need and money to afford Clara’s excellent service.
Amazingly, the corruption in Boston hadn’t been solved in the two years that I was gone. I started to blog again about the myriad roadblocks that City and State government put up to keep residents from doing honest business and getting good schooling for their kids. Some people have started to take notice, and I was recently hired as a columnist by the South End News, my local weekly paper which had been keeping tabs on my ranting. The column was named by Clara and is called ‘No Comment?!’ in honor of all those politicians who won’t answer questions. It can be found at http://southendnews.com Only my city councilor and my state senator are currently under indictment by the FBI. My state representative who told me two years ago he was going to call me back after the election to talk about my ideas for Open government reforms has not been arrested and has not called me back. Yet.
This year we received the decision in the lawsuit McCrea v. Boston City Council in which the Boston City Council has spent about $200,000 of taxpayer money fighting an $11,000 fine in defending the Council’s right to meet behind closed doors and talk about the planning, zoning and development of the City, and other things and exclude the public from knowing anything about it. It went through the appeals court, and the McCrea decision is now case law in Massachusetts. The City Council plead guilty to all remaining counts in November to avoid a trial, setting our case up to be the largest fine in state history for a body violating the Open Meeting Law. Every once in awhile the citizens win one, thanks to my co-plaintiffs Shirley and Kathleen, who spoke to truth to power and to $600-an-hour lawyers and won.
I took Clara to the beaches of Central America for her birthday in August. While we were there, I decided to try the other side of the fence and “play ball” with a local politician. With my limited-but-getting-better Spanish I negotiated a deal with a guy running for Mayor. I would give him $50 and a pair of boxing gloves, and if he got elected he would let me exceed the zoning limits and build a hotel with a rooftop casino, if I hired some of his friends and family members to do some construction and engineering on the building. It really opened my eyes to how things get done in Boston, and what is the problem with that??? It creates jobs!! It cleans up neglected neighborhoods!! Everyone is a winner!!! Well, except for all the people left in shadows around me, and whose views I would block, but hey they have less money than me so they have less rights right? Unfortunately, I heard he lost the election.
My South End Youth baseball team, The GIANTS, won the championship again. We are undefeated in the playoffs for the last 4 years running. The kids were the champs, not me, as I lost my composure and had to retire early. I’m probably asking too much for the league to abide by the rules it sets for itself. As Clara would say, I’m a tortured individual who finds problems everywhere instead of seeing the glass half full. We had a bunch of great kids on the team who have been with me for years, including a new kid this year: God. Yes, I drafted God West in the second round (unbelievable: God was still available in the second round. I know!) and his adorable smile and attitude, as well as other great players like Ryan, Jorge, William made for a great summer. There really is a special warmth in the heart when you hear a kid call you “coach” with adoration, respect, and desire for instruction. I recommend it to everyone. Thanks to fellow coaches Mario, Bill and Ryan for a great year. Mario got me to go VT for a weekend wiffleball tournament to raise money for the Travis Roy foundation. Nothing like two straight days of pitching whiffle ball on miniature Fenway Park and Wrigley Field diamonds to remind you that you are not a teenager anymore.
Another thing that makes you realize you are not a teenager is breaking your wrist playing basketball with a bunch of big, strong Northeastern University “kids”. I was fortunate enough to do this in September, so that by the time our Thanksgiving family get-together happened in Hawaii I could take off the cast and swim, although it wasn’t strong enough to surf. The stench in my cousin’s house, however, was strong enough to get Clara to move out after one night and into a beautiful beach-front resort. There are compromises to be made in marriage, I’m learning. Don’t get me started on the state of health care in the country, as this is a family newsletter. But why would you pay 50% more for something that is of inferior quality? USA wake up!
I’m sorry if any of you lost money in this tiny correction that is happening, but, you trusted Congress, President Bush and Wall Street with your money. What were you thinking? And people call me crazy????
On a serious note, friends have noticed a difference with me and Clara since we’ve returned. Living for over a year out of 4 metal boxes makes you appreciate what is and isn’t important in life. We are more appreciative of time and friends, of conserving the world, intolerant of intolerant people and religions, and less materialistic. (Hard to believe I could be less of a consumer, but I am.) I love the library! I’m currently designing and hope to start building this year an off-the-grid house, with recyclable grey water; it is an interesting challenge.
The happiest man I know, is a motorcyclist from the D BIG BIKES motorcycle club in Thailand who befriended us and let us stay with him in Bangkok, and spent much time helping us to ship our bikes back to the USA. He has sold everything and is back to being a Buddhist monk in north Thailand (All Thai men spend time as a monk young in life, even the King). He is eternally giving and happy, and we stay in touch. All he has is his orange robe and his bowl to beg for his meals every morning. Life is a state of mind, and if we choose to be happy and to bring happiness, it will be returned. I am grateful to Ood for including me in his life.
This country was built on fantastic ideals, worth fighting and dying for. People around the world look to us as a beacon of hope for what is possible if we are given freedom and equal rights. They are smart enough to separate George Bush from the rest of us, but they question what direction we are going. It saddens me to have to spoil their vision of America, of a land without corruption, where everyone gets the same chances. My time in New Orleans shattered that ideal. We visited Tsunami-ravaged areas in Southeast Asia where they have completely rebuilt, but when I went back to New Orleans in September it almost seemed as if nothing had been done in the year-and-half since I left.
However, to end on a positive note, one of my favorite quotes from Winston Churchill “America can always be counted on to do the right thing…After they have exhausted all other possibilities.”
Let’s work together to do the right thing. Don’t tolerate empty platitudes from your elected officials. Even better, run against them! You will always have two votes from Clara and I. Make new friends, come visit us old ones or invite us to see you! Clara is excited about getting back on her bike in the springtime and finding new adventures!!!
Have a great New Year’s and 2009
Peace and Love,
Kevin and Clara
218 West Springfield Street
Boston MA 02118
P.S. Check out FireWater’s album: The Golden Hour. I can’t stop playing it. An American musician fed up with George Bush and our wars, traveled around the Middle East and Southeast Asia to meet our “enemies” (sound familiar?) He made music with local musicians, recorded it on his Mac and it is great. I crank it up and dance to it, it gives me energy to keep fighting the MAN. See it on Youtube: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d52mb9xeGwI
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Nica dreamin'
We recenlty returned from a one-week birthday getaway in Nicaragua, and as usual we managed to have a fantastic time in San Juan Del Sur. Before we hit the beach though, we spent the night in Managua with the purpose of visiting what was reported to be the "best Irish pub in the city"...Hmm, I don't think so! In fact, this place is so NOT and Irish pub that according to Kevin, if the owner's friedns and family back home actually knew what his place looked like he would never be able to sho his face in Ireland again.
As a result of the time change we experienced upon arrival in Nicaragua, Kevin and I got up unusually early and were on the road by 6:30am, so our ride to the coast was smooth and stress free. We had beach time, fishing time, and plenty of talking time with our Canadian friend Adam and his new business partner. Kevin even found time to play in a Texas Hold'em tourney. We met some great new people, including the front-runner in the mayoral race. Even though this is the rainy season over there, we got very lucky with the weather and only got rained on slightly on a couple of occasions. We were not so lucky in other departments as we had the quintesential Central American never-stops-barking-after-mignight-dog right outside our window every night, the radio from our rental car was stolen, and we missed our flight home. No real harm was done however and as we left the country we were already planning our next visit...Do come join us!
Sunday, July 20, 2008
Party on Wayne...
Many thanks to all our friends and family who stopped by to have some drinks, dance, catch a part of the slide show marathon, and just catch up!
Besitos to all.
Clara and Jewel Jr., our beautiful and talented young friend who just finished her freshman year of college with stellar grades! ...They grow up s fast!
Karla on her clown shoes: "Never leave home without them!"
Kevin DJing and making us all do the Hokey Pokey!
As always, Raoul closes out the party in style!
Besitos to all.
Clara and Jewel Jr., our beautiful and talented young friend who just finished her freshman year of college with stellar grades! ...They grow up s fast!
Karla on her clown shoes: "Never leave home without them!"
Kevin DJing and making us all do the Hokey Pokey!
As always, Raoul closes out the party in style!
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