A moody piece
A few moments ago, I was reading an English language newspaper from Bonaire, a Dutch Caribbean island. My friend Karl Larson, who spent several weeks there last month and is planning several months there next year, is a peculiar sadist who delights in sending me photos of a place I’ll probably never see.
I don’t care. As I sit here in the most beautiful false spring I’ve seen since I moved to Reno in 1984, I’ve got the tickle of a cold in my throat and the ache of an old injury in my knee. It’s hard not to do a quick Google on Bonaire. Do you suppose all these shades of blue are real, or are they just caused by different varieties of digital cameras? Do you notice the island is shaped like Florida? Do any of these birds have melodious songs to go with their day-glo plumage?
My friend Lori Lacey recently went on a scuba diving trip to Micronesia, and she was kind enough to bring me back a ball point pen. I think she infected me. I can’t remember the last time I tasted something that had dark rum, pineapple and coconut in the same glass. I wear shorts to work sometimes, often with sandals to complete the ensemble, but just as you can’t put icing on dog poop and call it a wedding cake, it’s difficult for me to look out on I-80 and not think about the last vacation I had, which was to my dad’s house in Nebraska on a three-day whirlwind tour with my son, Hunter, but not my honey.
You know, I just sold a car and have a little extra money in my back pocket. How much do you suppose air fare to Bonaire could be? Hmm, three grand a person. Maybe I should just pay down the credit cards.
Reason to vote No. 22: People you vote for get to decide whether you get to travel to other parts of the world. If you’re careful, you can select a leader who cares if you feel safe in other parts of the world.