Opus Dei Camping Trip

When we were in Quito I purchased a necklace at one of the markets that has an alternating pattern of small pieces of wood (bamboo?) and some kind of nut or seed. Ordinarily, I’m not one to wear jewelry (except my wedding ring) but there was something about this style of necklace that I liked. Perhaps it was the price. Anyway, I brought it, put it on and haven’t taken it off since.

In the few months that I’ve been wearing it, something strange has happened. The seed, or whatever it is, has started to wear away. I don’t know if the cause was the salt water from the ocean at Canoa, or my rather pungent sweat, the daily shower I take (sometimes two!), or the fresh Washington, D.C. air. And I can’t tell if it is continuing to wear away or not.

Whatever the cause and pace, the seed is currently a spiny, prickly, shriveled thing that scratches my neck whenever I turn my head quickly to look at a pretty girl or to flag down the ice cream man. I call it my Opus Dei necklace.

So, on Columbus Day weekend we went camping. At this point, we’ve established camping as a regular family activity. So far Maya has been camping every year of her life.


In the summer of 2003, before Maya was one year old, we camped a few days at Mount Philo state park in Vermont. In 2004, we camped for a week at Jalama Beach County Park, north of Santa Barbara, California. In 2005, we did a few overnight camping trips to Virginia Beach (First Landing State Park is great!) and to Shenandoah National Park. In 2006, we camped at Bear Lake in Utah for a week and around Salt Lake City for an overnight. In 2007, we did a few nights at Vermont’s Grand Isle state park on Lake Champlain and did a few overnights at some Maryland state parks. And this year, because we were in Ecuador most of the year, we were limited to only this two-night trip to Point Lookout State Park in Maryland.

Jonah, of course, has been camping with us every year since he was born too, starting with Bear Lake, Utah when he was just about one year old.

In fact, camping has become such a big part of our summer routine that Rebecca made me a family camping flag for Christmas last year. The flag is an oak leaf (representing Jonah Oak) and snowflakes (representing Maya Snow) on a purple background. If she was really thoughtful, Rebecca would have stitched and sewn the leaf and snowflakes onto a green background, since green is my favorite color. But, I’ll take what I can get.

This camping trip to Point Lookout State Park on what I think is called the southern shores of Maryland was the first time we got to use the flag. We hung it on the site post and it looked great. We had a good camp site in the “playground” loop. The park is situated on the Chesapeake Bay, so there is a pier and a nature center where we got to watch some folks crabbing with fish heads and see the turtles and crabs in the aquariums get fed. I never saw a crab eat before; it was pretty cool and creepy at the same time. I think getting eaten by a crab would be a horrible way to go.

In addition to all that fun, Maya liked riding her bike all by herself around the loop and Jonah, of course, liked gathering sticks for the campfire. I taught him how to pee on the fire to put it out. When he gets older, I’ll teach him how not to fall in the fire while peeing on it when drunk.


So, for obvious reasons, even though it’s about a two-hour drive from Alexandria, we really like this park. There is also a grass picnic area and sand beach that we pretty much had all to ourselves. The beach is along the Chesapeake Bay and the weekend was warm enough so that we could swim.

The problem with the warm weather was that the mosquitoes were still out in full force. Even though I kept myself covered up, I got eaten to pieces. Including some monster bites on the back of my neck. Fortunately, whenever I needed to scratch my neck, I just turned my head and my necklace took care of it for me.

If I ran for President

Lately we have been hearing a lot about some incidents that occurred in the lives of the presidential candidates when they were aged twenty-something and thirty-something. We’ve heard that one had some tenuous connections to persons of unsavory character and the other was a drunk, gambling, wife-cheating, plane-wrecking, silver-spooned, self-promoter.

Well, after hearing these things, I got to thinking how much each candidate must now regret these things and wish that they hadn’t done them. Then I got to thinking how, if I ran for president, and had to look back over the wreckage of my teens and twenties, most of my regrets would be over things that I did not do.

Like, I remember one time in college I was invited by this girl to come to her house one night. I can’t remember her name, but she was pretty and fun to hang out with. I went over to her house with a bottle of wine and it was just me and her there. We drank the wine and talked some and watched T.V. and then we went to the diner and had something to eat. Then I went home. I regret now that I didn’t bring a bigger bottle of wine.

Another time I went out with a girl on New Year’s Eve (nope, I don’t remember the year) and we had an okay time and then went back to her parents house where she lived. She insisted on keeping her bedroom door open, signaling that the year was not going to start with a bang. When I got back to the house where I lived with some college buddies, they were hanging out having a good time. I regret now that I didn’t hang out with my friends that night.

One year in my journalism class, the big project that we were going to be graded on was a visit to a Super Fund site to write a cover-story article for the college paper. If you are not from New Jersey, you might not know that a Super Fund site is a place that is highly polluted and to which the Government has devoted all kinds of money and resources to clean up. All semester my professor was talking about how important a project it was and how excited he was that we were getting to visit this place. But when the day of the event came, I had no idea where we were supposed to get on the bus. I regret missing that trip.

I also regret not talking to my journalism professor more about baseball. He was/is a big Philadelphia Phillies fan and must be so excited that they are now in the World Series with a chance to win their second championship in the last 100 years.

Speaking of baseball, I regret not betting on the Yankees more during the 1998 season when they won almost every single night. Out of 162 bets, I would have won 114 times. That kind of money would buy a lot of ice cream.

I regret that I decided in 1978, at the ripe old age of 8, that I was a Philadelphia Eagles fan and not a New York Giants fan. The Giants have since won three Super Bowls and the Eagles have won zero. I had no business deciding what was best for me at that age. I regret that my Dad didn’t whip me for declaring that faulty devotion.

When I lived on Lamberton Street in Trenton, NJ, I often left my car windows open. I also traveled with a box of cassette tapes that included a really great mix tape that had, among others, “Sittin’ on a Dock of the Bay” by Otis Redding, “No Sugar Tonight” by The Guess Who, and “Time” by The Chambers Brothers. One night, the box of tapes was stolen from my car. I regret that I left my car windows open that night.

Despite the fact that I’d like a do over on all these things because each would have made my life a little more pleasant, I don’t have much right to second guess my actions. In fact, if I had done even one thing differently, I might not be where I am today, which is in a pretty good spot.

For example, I learned a lesson from that fateful night in my college days when I didn’t take a large enough bottle of wine to that nameless girl’s house. The next time I had an invitation from a girl to come to her house, I made sure to get the big bottle of wine. And it worked out pretty well. That girl is now my wife.

English to Spanish Dictionary

the big lebowski = el gran lebowski
brokeback mountain = el secreto de la montaña
the kinks = the kinks (nobody will have heard of them)
red wine = vino rojo
rebecca = rebecca
drunk = borracho

Does Membership have its Privileges?

Everyone knows that going to work where I do every day is the major compromise of my life. I’ve given up the freedom to do what I want when I want for the security of a few dollars and a dental and vision plan for my family. Well, last week, the compromise was ratcheted up a notch as I was required to give up my anonymity for all time.

Employees and visitors have always been required to show identification to get into the IRS building. To this point in my career, I’ve had to flash an ID card containing a photograph of me taken when I first accepted the job eight years ago at a disinterested rent-a-guard. Then I am free to enter and use whichever of the many conveniently located toilets on any of the seven floors of the building – no questions asked.

A year or so ago, I lost my ID card and had to get a new one. I made an appointment with security and figured I would have to sit for a photo and then come back in a day or two for a new card. But instead, when I walked in for my appointment, they handed me a new badge with the same eight-year-old photo. They didn’t even ask for an ID to confirm that it was me they were handing the ID card too.

I guess this isn’t really a problem with the likes of me. I look almost exactly the same now as I did eight years ago – bald. But my boss who has been here for 30+ years is still walking around with a photo of herself from 1982. Trust me, she does not look the same now as she did in 1982. No one would have hired her if she did.

So anyway, to make a short story long, last week I got an email that I had to go to Room 1102 for my “enrollment card” – which I’ve learned is the new name for an ID card.

Since I am employed here and want to remain so, I didn’t think I had any choice but to make an appointment and show up when the time came. So, that’s what I did.

During my appointment, I had to sit for a photo. I had to update all of my contact information. Then, I was fingerprinted on a digital machine with an ominous red light that turned green after it had successfully created a computer file of my prints for the United States government to maintain until the next big bang. Understandably, I felt like Winston Smith agreeing to constant surveillance by Big Brother.

When I was a fresh-faced attorney clerking for Judge Pizzuto at the New Jersey Tax Court, he told me that you’ve made it professionally when you have your own private bathroom and parking space. I’m optimistic that my enrollment card membership means that I have arrived.