SNOOPING FROM THE SKY

      There is something that doesn't love a drone. It's everyone but the person flying it.
    I got my first taste at a Miami dinner party years ago.  Looking up at an irritating noise I saw a small, blinking, aircraft. It hovered 'neath the trees looking down at us. By the time I found a rock  the drone had fled.

       
   I understand the thrill one has virtually zooming  over treetops. The problem is you are often invading someone's private space. A bigger problem is figuring out how to knock them out of the sky. When I hear a drone destruction story it makes my heart glad. 

        Last fall, my son and I drove over to St. Augustine for lunch. Afterwards Ian and I visited the Spanish fort that's guarded the harbor since 1656.  We chatted with a volunteer, a man who loves masquerading as an ancient soldier a sword on his hip.

      
    Six months later we had neighbors over for dinner and the subject turned to the irksome, robotic mosquitoes. A friend of theirs spends his winters "guarding the fort" in a colorful pink coat.  
     One afternoon he noticed a drone buzzing overhead. The damn thing wasn't satisfied with
a top shot of the fort and the tourists inside. The offending insect plunged down to eye-level in the central courtyard, just eight-feet from the guard.
    It was easy for him draw his sword. He had a duty -pretend or not- to protect the fort and everyone in it. Lunging at it caused the tiny spinning propellers to hit hardened steel.  An explosion of plastic fell to the ground to applause from surrounding tourists.
     I would have cheered too and given the man a medal.
     A moment later the drone's angry operator was in the guard's face demanding compensation.  After a few minutes of abuse the fort's manager stepped in. In uniform with a real gun on his hip, he ordered Drone Man to clean his mess and pay a $250 fine.
     A sign clearly states as you enter Castillo de San Marcos, "No drones allowed".
               __________________________
   
         

LOSING A FRIEND TO COVID-19

Two months ago I was listening to a public official tell us,"Coved-19 is coming and it's going to be bad. You'll probably lose someone you know. 

    That happened to me today when I learned of the death of Bobby Pin. My Burning Man buddy was one of the most charming, out-going people you could ever meet. Bobby made documentaries,

took beautiful photographs, and helped run film festivals all over the world.

 

   Just a month ago he posted a FB picture of himself smiling from an ocean-side hammock 

captioned, "Day 4, Quarantined in Hawaii. Stay safe".  I imagined how wonderful it would to surf and eat mangos until the pandemic passed.

He got the virus soon after and died last night in the Maui General Hospital.

   His family, Burning Man friends, and partner, Dan Greening, did their best to share their love  and help him pull though.  

    The world traveler took his last trip to an intensive care unit. How incredibly sad to think that someone who had so many admiring friends had to die -more or less- alone. Bobby was just a smiling sixteen year-old who happened to turn fifty last January.  Heaven's a better place with him there.

WAKING UP IN NEW WORLD

We fell asleep in one world, and woke up in another.
Suddenly Disney is out of magic,
Paris is no longer romantic,
New York doesn't stand up anymore,
the Chinese wall is no longer a fortress, and Mecca is empty.

Hugs & kisses suddenly become weapons, and not visiting parents & friends becomes an act of love.
Suddenly you realize that power, beauty & money are worthless, and can't get you the oxygen you're fighting for.
The world continues its life and it is beautiful. It only puts humans in cages. I think it's sending us a message:
"You are not necessary. The air, earth, water and sky without you are fine. When you come back, remember that you are my guests. Not my masters.”

-Yasir Hussain
He is a 34-yer old playwright, living in Islamabad, Pakistan.

HAPPY PI DAY

  Yes, it's the Big Day, PI DAY, when we celebrate all things 3.14 . In our house it's a small brown dog  appropriately named "Pi". She named herself by being born with the sign on her chest.
   Francesca surprised her with a pie of her own with all her favorites...whipped cream, strawberries, corn bread and liver treats.

Lucky dog!
                      

PARTY LIKE IS 1356!

          Every year a Renaissance festival comes to a town near you.  It's a good reason to break out the suit of armor that's been rusting in your closet.  

     One visited Gainesville recently and I went with wife and camera. We had a great time.
     
                                                                                                                                                                                              This one was the "Hoggetowne Medieval Faire" because Gainesville was originally called
"Hogtown" (it sounded better than Porkopolis) and in the old days every other word had to end in "e".

  

     Upon entering the city gate we were greeted by
minstrels, 

 



 the Green Man,

 a troupe of belly dancers, and, 

a hungry Tyrannosaurus Rex!

  You could easily spend a day being entertained by singers, jousters, and a multitude of folks pretending to be 700 years old.
 
    Francesca danced with new African friends.



     I enjoyed heaving axes at a wooden wall (Gainesville's axe-throwing bar opens on in three months!) and tossing tomatoes at
this rude young man. He drummed up business by throwing insults at everyone.

    
    Unfortunately the two booths were far apart making it difficult to throw axes at him.
                           ______________
  

TELLING GRANNY GOODBYE

     "Granny" (Rose McDonald) was a well-known, much-loved, homeless person in Gainesville. She was killed by a hit-and-run driver January 30th, hit from behind as she rode her bike. We were the same age but our lives could not have been more different. 
      She was raised in an orphanage until she left at 13. People here knew her as "Granny", a friendly face in downtown Gainesville. Her death was not reported for a month because police could not locate next of kin.
    Yesterday the volunteers at Prairie Creek Cemetery dug her a grave in soft, sandy soil. 

 
   
    Three hours later a hundred people attended Granny's memorial service before she was laid to rest. Here's a link to a short, recent interview,
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=DyCVG637Ftw
     

                                              _____________________________________

INSIDE 45

      I made a Trump outfit two years ago to wear to protest rallies. It always feels uncomfortable to be inside such an evil, loathsome, man.

    Nevertheless I suited up for the impeachment protest yesterday. The Gainesville gathering was the usual  bunch of retired progressives

who feel a need to hold unreadable signs next to rush hour traffic when

it hits the fan. 

   You wave, they honk, you go home and feel like you did something.

It may be useless but I admire those  who speak out even when it seems no one's listening.

    Across the busy intersection were pro-Trumpers doing the same thing.  What seemed odd is that they liked my act too. The Trumpers seemed to agree with my sign, that whatever Trump does is OK. One chanted my "line" repeatedly into his megaphone.

   As #45 once said, "I could stand in the middle of Fifth Avenue and shoot somebody and I wouldn't lose any voters". 
     In yesterday's Senate vote he only lost one, Republican Mitt Romney. That one brave man from Utah gives us hope.
.I