FOLLOWING THE WRIGHT BROTHERS TRAIL

    
              Aviation began in a bicycle shop. I discovered this while hiking the Wright Brothers Trail in Dayton, Ohio, last week.  
   Experiments in their bike shop led to the world's first airplane flight on December 18, 1903. That took place in Kitty Hawk, North Carolina.

    Further development in Dayton allowed Lindbergh to cross the Atlantic and for bombs to rain down on Tokyo. More on that later.

    I imagined Orville and Wilber's testing their fragile crafts as I stood on Huffman Prairie, the now famous, former cow field.  Inside the nearby museum I flew one of the brothers' creations myself. Fortunately, crashing a simulator only hurts your pride.  The Wright Brothers, I learned, had a lot of accidents themselves before they got it right.

      Their work let to those long metal tubes that zip us all over today.  Unfortunately, many of these airplanes are used to wage war.  After leaving The Trail I saw a collection of our country's military aircraft. It is just two miles from where the brothers started it all.
    The U.S. Air Force Museum has five huge hangers large enough to contain, well, an air force. One must hike a couple of miles to see them all. Here are a few of the aircraft on display,

     This B-29 dropped a "Fat Boy" atom bomb on Nagasaki.

 


   
 

The B-2 bomber is a study in awesomeness.  You expect the cockpit to open to reveal Darth Vader.

   While it is extremely cool to create these things  (bad guy must be dealt with) there is little use for B-2's in the wars we fight today.


The Link Trainer is more my speed. I would suffer the enemy by tossing water balloons.

This is the space scooter developed for NASA. It was never produced because scientist thought it would be too much fun (and, people like me might try to become astronauts for the thrill of riding one).

 Before there were space scooters the air force had trouble recruiting pilots because the uniforms were ugly.

That all changed when they began issuing leather bomber jackets.  Everybody wanted one.  They looked great and you could have your name painted on the back.

        
     The Air Force is always acquiring new aircraft and getting rid of the old stuff.  I went on a Saturday and they were having their annual "hanger" sale.   
     I considered buying a F-80 Shooting Star or P-58 Hustler then I saw my perfect ride.
   I am now the proud owner of a B-2 Bomber.

   It's four engines put out 120,000 h.p. and it'll do 1,490 m.p.h. straight out.  At that speed it would get me from Coconut Grove to downtown Miami in less than a second.
But where would I park?
                       _______________

TOPLESS IN COLUMBUS

      Why would anyone go to Ohio, "The "Buckeye State"?  No one even knows what a 'buckeye' is. I Googled it and it took five minutes to spit out a site which explained, "The visual instrument of a  male deer". This, together with the state motto, "Land of very Large Football Players", keep most folks away.
  
    But Lauren's there. I called my lovely niece, to see why she had landed in Ohio. Lauren explained that as a medical student you're  told where to go for residency training. She and her husband were assigned to a hospital in Columbus, Ohio.  When they heard we were traveling and invited us to visit.

    Seeing them was reason enough to go but then I remembered, The Doo Dah Parade. 
When we created the Grove's King Mango Strut parade 35 years ago it became a surprising success and received national publicity.  We got a call from a Columbus fan, Bill Keener.  He and his friends wanted to start a similar parade in Ohio.  We invited him and his wife to join us for Strut #2 (1983).  Bill Dobson and I told the Keeners how we created our crazy parade and the next year, on the Fourth of July, the Columbus Doo Dah Parade was launched.


    It has been an outstanding  tradition ever since.  Four of our mango strutters flew to Ohio to check it out years ago. They came back with glowing reviews.  Peer "Cosmic Claus" Everett had a huge smile when he reported, "It was insane!".

    Francesca and I made plans to be in Columbus on the Fourth so we were able to see our first (their 33d)  Doo Dah Parade. It was insane.    As you can see in the photo above, I had a viva la revolucion time marching with my new friends, the Fidels of Columbus'  (That's me with the beard).


 
  It's a lot like our King Mango parade but much more twisted. Hey, these people are buckeyes.  They suffer freezing winters and the ominous presence of very large football players (it is the home of Ohio State Buckeye football team). They obviously need to go further than fireworks for diversion on the Fourth.  So how do they do it?
  

          ScareAtorium employees posing for group picture

   They do it with many, many zombies sporting open wounds with dripping blood.  They pull it off with large topless women jousting on bicycles and... I really need a separate blog to do da Doo Dah justice. I'll do dat soon.

      Besides parades I love aviation history. I was hoping to run into my hero, John Glenn, who lives here. They named Columbus' airport after him last week. 
                              Doo Dah Queen with a local pea farmer
 
      The Doo Dah Queen told me she had invited the former astronaut be her parade's Grand Marshall. Unfortunately, he graciously declined. United States Senators and topless female jousters do not mix, at least not in public.                                     



    
Although I was unable to meet Mr. Glenn (who turns 95 next week) my niece did.  She was introduced to him and his wife, Annie, last year. Lauren told us the Glenns are doing fine, "They were both very gracious and as sharp as tack."     
     I learned that another one of my aviator heroes, Eddie Rickenbacker, also hailed from Columbus.  He was our "ace of aces" in World War I shooting down 26 enemy planes.  In 1935 he moved to Miami to become the general manager of Eastern Airlines. He rose through the ranks to serve as its president for many years. My dad flew for Eastern  and loved working for "Captain Eddie".  
    When Rickenbacker joined Eastern he  made Coconut Grove his winter home. His former estate in the South Grove still exists evoking memories of Miami's and Columbus' aviation history.  
     Captain Eddie died sadly, in 1973, too soon to Doo Dah. Lucky me, I got to doo dah at the Doo Dah in the streets of Columbus last Monday.
    On Tuesday Francesca flew home.  I'd bet she's doing the 'Dah' in our Coconut Grove living room as I write. 
    I'll be soldiering on for more mid-west adventures. The spirits of the Wright Brothers are calling me from Dayton, Ohio, where aviation really started in a simple bicycle shop. 
    Stay tuned.
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NORTH TO ALASKA!

     There are two ways to deal with Miami's summer heat, you can stand in front of an air conditioner or move to Alaska.  Our trek to Juneau began last month. The first night we camped in St. Augustine.
   We traced turtle tracks on the beach and

 
 relaxed in Old Town until, sadly, the sun rose to create more heat.
   We jumped into our AIR CONDITIONED van and headed north to Terry family reunion.  We stopped in Charleston long enough to admire


the sweetgrass basketry 
and to earn a little spendin' money

break dancing. 

  When that didn't go well (trying to "break" broke my body) Francesca opened a pop-up t-shirt shop.  With the kids' help it was very successful.
  Ian's smile brought people in and my wife sold them shirts, the  ones Natalia and Dylan were modeling out front. 
(Shirts available on FB, "The Mango Republic" page)
 By the end of the day we had gas money and moved on to the Isle of Palms.

    There, forty Terry's were waiting for us to join them for a "group shot". The photographer instructed, "On the count of three show me 'the real you' ".

The real us

    We were real hot so after a week of mostly standing in front of air conditioners we got back on the Alaskan trail.

     Stopping to rest along North Carolina's Andy Griffith Parkway,  I stretched out on the ground. Francesca, fearing chiggers, took to a bench. 

    A half-hour later my wife was at the wheel and I was scratching fresh, pink bites. 

We visited my sister, Linda, and her husband, Len, in Galax, Virginia. They're both doctors but neither took my chigger complaints seriously.

   I sought out sister Joan, south of Chapel Hill. 

Her husband, a burn specialist at NY Presbyterian, told me he could fix me up if I set my chigger bites on fire.  He's so funny, that Roger.

   Three hours north our friends, Phyllis and Fred, greeted us on their farm outside of Lexington. Fred, a retired ER doctor, told me reading a good book would take my mind off chiggers.

Francesca and Phyllis heading for Jump Mountain while Fred was showing me some good books.

      Heading west across the Alleghenies we pulled into Warm Springs. Two 200-year-old buildings allow men and women to "take the waters" in privacy. Thomas Jefferson spent three-weeks there in 1816 to ease his rheumatism.  

     An hour later we were passing through West Virginia where flash floods killed 24 people last week. They are still scraping mud from the roads. On White Sulpher Springs' Greenbriar Golf Course officers were using dogs to search for those still missing.

   On a happier note, we collided with cool weather in Columbus, Ohio. The mid-west locals attribute it to global cooling. We are staying with my niece, Lauren, and her husband Vince. 

Both are accomplished physicians with many years of training yet that they have little to say about chigger bite remedies.

Most of their attention is directed towards their daughter, Sophie.  We helped celebrate her five week birthday.

   It is now Independence Day and I hope you are enjoying yours. In a few hours, I'll be marching in this city's version of the King Mango Strut. It's called "The Columbus Doo Dah Parade". As you might expect, I will be representing the Ohio Pea Growers Association.

More on that later...

                      _____________________

July 5th

I came, I saw, I doo dah'd.  I'll write more about how Columbus celebrates the 4th when time permits.  After watching large, naked women joust in the street on bicycles, you need time to gather your thoughts.

 


I will say I saw 
super heroes,







a very excited young man wearing a tu-tu and 

 
too many monsters to mention.









Sophie, Doo-Dah'ing for the first time, loved it.

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SAVE THE GROVE!

  Happy Fourth, y'all!  

   Let's declare our independence from the developers that are squeezing so much money (and what we love about the Grove) from of our neighborhoods.

    John Snider and his friends are doing great work with their SAVE THE GROVE  group.  Below is their latest newsletter.  It explains how developers are destroying the unique nature of Coconut Grove with their charm-less. high density white boxes. Two just went up on my street, Palmetto Avenue.  The diagram is a typical footprint of these mega-cubes. Greenspace for these houses -that look more like doctor offices- is minimal.

   Working together, we can slow this sad process and eventually stop it.  Let's preserve our historic houses, save the trees, and...save the Grove!

G

                                    S A V E  T H E  G R O V E

 

We are all aware of the inroads of overdevelopment in the Grove which we see as a challenge to the nature and character of our neighborhood. The figure to the left depicts a 5,000 square foot two story house on a 6,000 square foot lot.

 Similar homes are being built at 4111 Hardie, and 4190 Grove, They are springing up on Woodridge, Battersea, and Anne Ct. They have 5 bedrooms and 5 baths. As you can see there is no room for mature canopy trees to grow; not enough room for a standard size septic system.

 It is pretty obvious to those familiar with the neighborhood that a 5000 square foot house with 5 bedrooms does not belong on this size lot. The City’s required greenspace of 30%, which is reduced to 22.5% by having grass between the driveway pavers, is not enough to maintain the tree canopied, highly landscaped natural beauty of our sub-urban environment. 

 The existing 60 to 70 year old homes have a footprint of about 2,000-2500 square feet with living space around 1600 square feet. A minimum requirement for 50% greenspace with no reduction, would go a long way toward insuring the continued park like environment we have enjoyed. It would still allow a large 2 story replacement home, of say 3200 square feet, to be constructed  with a garage, driveway and small patio. 

    If we fail to press the city commission to enact greater greenspace requirements as homes on these smaller lots are replaced the area around Merrie Christmas park will cease to be sub-urban.

   The City of Miami Historical and Environmental Board meets on Tuesday, July 5 at 3 pm at City Hall (3500 Pan American Drive) 3701 Park Ave.  is on the agenda. The lot contains a two-story Craftsman Style home and a one story chauffeur quarters, both constructed in 1916. 

   Regardless of the outcome of designating this as a historical site, there is no way the lot should be divided into 3 or 4 home sites as the developer wants, or the 7 that the City of Miami seems to be willing to permit.

Have a Great 4^th of July weekend

 

BE AWARE OF ZONING NOTICES WHICH MAY GET POSTED &/OR YOU MAY RECEIVE BY MAIL & LET THE GROUP KNOW IMMEDIATELY.  Also be on the lookout for APPLICATIONS for waivers or warrants, and questionable building. . 

SHARE THE NEWSLETTER;  Forward it to a neighbor and ask them to send us an e-mail at savethegrove16@gmail.com so they can be added to the mailing list.    Visit our new web site at SAVETHEGROVE.org

                         ______________________________________

PICKLED SNAKE

      Every two years I get to be "Uncle Glenn". We travel to a family reunion where many young people refer to me that way.

   I bring them gifts, things any six-year old would love.

   This time it included a dead snake in a pickle jar. I'd had it for years in my art class, something I'd drag out every time a student asked, "How do you draw a snake?" or "Got anything cool in your back room?"

   Unfortunately it didn't travel well. When we reached South Carolina and I took "Mr. Snake" out of the van, the jar was leaking. The liquid smelled like a rotting animal and now, so did my hands. I washed them three times trying to imaginine the odor was more interesting than repulsive. No one else thought so. You probably get used to it when you work in the back of a funeral home.
    No one, not even a six-year-old, wanted the snake. 

   What could I do?  You can't just toss something this special. I knew there was still "life" in this dead snake. 

   Our rented beach house is a block from a string of cheesy tourist shops. I suggested that I sneak it onto a shelf at "The Island Mermaid", next to the pickled eggs.
   Francesca pointed out that the store would probably be shut down by the health department. Further, I'd be caught on camera and have to become some kind of low-county outlaw. Finally, she said, it was a dumb idea.
   Francesca was probably right. I would make a terrible fugitive and would soon get caught, whimpering in some mosquito-festooned rice bog.
   I thought it might be appreciated by local science museum but, on this island, there aren't any. There is an old fort where the imprisoned Osceola died and a garrison where a young Edgar Allen Poe was once stationed but no science collections where a smelly grey snake might be appreciated.

   My wife pointed out that every living thing ends up in the ground. "Let's bury it", she suggested. Part of me thought this would be a waste of snake, but heck, my options were limited. The smell was getting worse. I went along with it thinking a proper funeral for Mr. Snake might would be the best thing, something a grown man might do.

    Surrounded by family we did just that. Rest in peace, Mr. Snake. May you stink no more.
                

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