19 (and a half)

Remember when ages were counted in halves?? That half-year was important. It put us in another whole age category, and we were so eager to get there. We couldn't wait to get there. We may even have added "and a half" before it was mathematically correct; it may have been only a third.

The older we get, of course, the less that "and-a-half" matters. Or the less we wish to announce it. I'll be 49 'til the very second I turn 50, thank you very much.

And I'm sure I'll feel the same as I ramp up to 60 ...

Anyway, revisiting the impressions of last time (if that's allowed), I wanted to fill in a few gaps, as there were more sights than I originally recalled. There always are. En route from Newport to Tiverton via boat on Saturday, Mr. Betty and I passed under all three bridges — that much is true. But did I mention that before we headed North we headed South? We thought, given relatively windless conditions, it'd be a fine day for going around the outside: beyond Brenton Point, past the reef, along Ocean Drive and the beaches, around Sachuest Point, up the Sakonnet.

But just as we passed Castle Hill — with all its empty chairs that were full of summer visitors just yesterday, or so it seems — and the vessel started bobbing and bouncing like a hobby horse in significant swells, Mr. Betty said, "It's lumpier than I expected."

So we turned and went the other way: up the bay.

And did I mention the shiny, new, impressive & inexplicably long ramp at Ann Street Pier? The leaves? The feeling of putt-putting out the harbor for the last time 'til next season? The revelation that aircraft carriers are BIG? As are wind turbines and the only skyscraper on our horizon (at Carnegie Abbey) but unlike Mount Hope — not the bridge, but the mount, which is more of a bump? The bumpers, for that matter? The ongoing construction over the Sakonnet? What's the name of that new bridge again? Then there's the old stone bridge-that's-no-longer-a-bridge for which I couldn't remember the name (Old Stone Bridge?). How 'bout the fact that we very nearly didn't fit under the last little bridge into Nanaquaket Pond?

I didn't think so. I was too focused on getting there, wherever "there" is. And, I dare say, it's nowhere in particular. Or maybe it's just a different place for everyone.

One thing that isn't different (I don't think) is the impression, with so much lying behind us, that time flew ...

That is Mount Hope, isn't it?? Hoping to be ... bigger??

But smaller can be better (e.g. for flying under the radar) ...

night & day

There's little to say:
It's just night and day,
in more than one way.
That's all for today.

christmas

I've encountered some unexpected sights over the past week or two, starting with the Christmas Party (on Labor Day) at the West Wind Marina. Then there was the Segway tour on Bellevue. Then there was Viewport ...

I was riding my bike along Wellington past the harbor and King Park on Saturday when I stopped short to avoid a trolley. In so doing, I noticed an ongoing art installation, i.e., it was in the process of installation: Viewport, from which one can view the port (of course). With so many people busy in so many ways on that perfect-if-cool day, the scene reminded me of that old song "Saturday in the Park" by Chicago. And, no, I didn't really care what time it was ... remember that one, too??

Seriously, there was yoga — at least I think it was yoga. Frisbee — no question about that. Moms (and dads) sitting on benches and/or bent over their young ones. I even saw an old tree that somehow had kept growing (what else could it do??) over a street sign, though I really couldn't see what the sign said.

Not to be confused with what "the man" said ... oops, that was Paul McCartney.

Then I saw a friend — I hardly recognized him behind his sunglasses, beneath a black hat. I teased him about it: the look and the hat, which he said his kids had given him.

Those were the days (my friend) ... or were they??

(don't) fall

It's chilly all-of-a-sudden. It's like it happened over night. I almost made the move from shorts to long pants over the weekend ... but I couldn't do it. Not quite yet.

The kids are back-to-school; I don't mean mine (though it's true of Darling Daughter) or all the little ones but the students at Salve, who returned over Labor Day. I saw cars everywhere — throughout campus and in-town — stuffed with bags, boxes & bicycles.

Milk crates, too; so many uses for milk crates.

And so many families milling about saying temporary good-byes.

The water's still perfect — that's one of those cool (but not cold) things about September: disrobing in the chill then realizing the sea feels like a big blue bathtub if you're brave enough to jump in. Unlike summer, when even tip-toeing in (especially tip-toeing in) can feel so cold, particularly in the mid-section.

Mr. Betty and I saw a whole gang of kids (relatively speaking) jumping in last weekend (or was it the weekend before??). They were walking the plank — a boom, actually — aboard a vessel that was unfamiliar. Perhaps it was in-town for the Classic Yacht Regatta. Or perhaps it's always here/there, and I never noticed it. In any case, they had let the main sheet waaaaay out and secured it, so that the boom was very nearly horizontal to the hull, as if they were running downwind. But they weren't. They were running — that appeared to the best approach — out along the crimson canvas as far they could go without losing their balance, then finally falling in to much fanfare from their friends, who all clambered out to do it again and again (and again) ...

jaws

There was a great turnout at the Pickens on Friday night for a special showing of Jaws, this year marking the 35th anniversary of the movie that no doubt changed the way America (and the world??) swims. Or at least what we think about when we swim. Although I think the fact that thirty-five years have passed since Jaws' opening was the most alarming aspect of the evening for me and Mr. Betty, who were sitting in the audience.

Was 1975 really thirty-five years ago??

The cool thing — one of them, anyway — about Friday night's showing was its local sponsorship by the Newport Mercury and the resurgent brand of beer (Narragansett) famously gulped by Quint mid-movie who then crunches the can in his hand, whereupon Hooper promptly crunches his paper cup in his hand. Classic. Unforgettable. That and the duh-duh-duh-duh music and a few lines such as when Cap'n Brody, allegedly afraid of the water, first sees those wide-open jaws off the stern and says calmly to Quint, "You're going to need a bigger boat ..."

The guy behind us in the theater — who had brought his young son along (I wonder if the boy did any swimming later in the weekend and, if so, what he was thinking about) — had a habit of anticipating/reciting the lines before they happened, which made the whole Jaws experience a little less scary. Truly, I appreciated it. That, and the fact that we got to imbibe a couple of Narragansetts while munching our popcorn having successfully resisted all the candy we might have purchased (and subsequently sunk our jaws into) when we were buying our tickets. That took the edge off.

The line about the bigger boat actually reminded me of a boat I'd seen off the rocks near Castle Hill not long ago. And then yesterday, Sunday (what a beauty), I saw a fin. A fin!! In the harbor. Which stopped my heart, if only for a second, as it was a false alarm: two little girls were swimming with a killer whale off the stern of a boat. No biggie, but still ...

Speaking of classics, Jaws may be over (thank goodness), but the Pickens has showings of The Great Gatsby on Sunday mornings (in season) packaged with a tickets to Rosecliff, the "mansion" where the 1974 version of the movie was filmed. Continental breakfast is served ...