Fresh off the heels of the Pt. Clear Rotary Club "A Taste of Rotary" event, which was enjoyed by 500 loyal patrons and raised considerable sums for the Pt. Clear / Fairhope Rotary Youth Club, comes the Fairhope Rotary Steak Cookoff on May 9. This street event never fails to draw a huge following and this year will be no exception.
The PCRC intrepid cooking team will once again be in action, herded by the unflappable chef, Misseur Hubert Fleury. As usual, the team will be charged by libations, the mood will be light and the steaks tender, hot and juicy. Stop by our table and we'll serve you up. And, please, show a little love by casting your vote for us.
Since, unlike an amoeba, I cannot split myself and be in two places as once, I will be forced to miss the Alabama Coastal Foundation Coastal Seafood Craze being held the same night in Mobile at the old Shriner's Temple in downtown. This too is a very worthwhile event and the food will be great. If you are looking for a good cause, great seafood, and a fun time in Mobile, this is the place to be.
Bay La Vie!
Friday, May 2, 2014
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Eleven months and two days since my last blog post. Where in the world have I been? Apparently life can get in the way of living. I guess that last post was so introspective it took me a while to regroup.
Since then, there are two new granddaughters in my world, the oil well was capped, the beaches cleaned, seafood pronounced "safe" to eat, and I've almost completed a year as President of the Pt. Clear Rotary club; 42 weekly meetings, 10 board meeting, and 2 successful fundraisers. I have visited Ecuador, assembled and distributed wheelchairs to destitute people who have never walked. I had some wonderful deer hunts this past season, not so good bird hunts, but enjoyed some wonderful fellowship and saw some new friendships blossom. I spent quality time with my brother, working the land and observing the wildlife.
I've had another wonderful year with a very special person, Kathy. Together we share our daily triumphs and travails, our aches and pains, our delights. And we laugh, mostly at ourselves. As I'm sitting here going over the year past, in my mind, the theme tune from the play Rent is playing in my head, "two hundred sixty five thousand six hundred minutes, how do you measure, measure a year?" And of course that reminds me of taking Kathy, Kara and Sybil to see the play in Atlanta. That was before Sybil became a wife and mother, and before Kara became a teacher. And yet, it was only, what, three years ago.
Stacey passed her teachers certification this past year and became a teacher and I was so happy for her. Then she and Michael purchased a home, as did Sybil the year before and Kara the year before that. I'm so proud of them all; what an accomplishment during some of the most difficult economic times in decades. I guess they learned the whole plan and persevere lesson pretty well. Good for them.
But how have I grown this past year? That is hard to say and will require some additional pondering. But I have come to recognize an essential truth of life. Most of the things I envisioned for my life have come to pass. It is very odd to wake up one day and realize many of your notions about how you wanted to live your life have actually happened, not through some design or plan, but moreover, you just one day realized that "it" had happened. If I had a chance to make any changes in my life, I guess it would have been to dream bigger. It is true what they say about not selling your dreams short.
Of course this isn't the end and there are so many "song lines" left to write, so it is time to go out and find them. I'll try to check in again before another year goes by.
"The secret to life is enjoying the passage of time. Any fool can do it, there's really nothing to it. Nobody knows how they got to the top of the hill. But now we're on the other side, we may as well enjoy the ride. It's such a lovely ride." James Taylor
Since then, there are two new granddaughters in my world, the oil well was capped, the beaches cleaned, seafood pronounced "safe" to eat, and I've almost completed a year as President of the Pt. Clear Rotary club; 42 weekly meetings, 10 board meeting, and 2 successful fundraisers. I have visited Ecuador, assembled and distributed wheelchairs to destitute people who have never walked. I had some wonderful deer hunts this past season, not so good bird hunts, but enjoyed some wonderful fellowship and saw some new friendships blossom. I spent quality time with my brother, working the land and observing the wildlife.
I've had another wonderful year with a very special person, Kathy. Together we share our daily triumphs and travails, our aches and pains, our delights. And we laugh, mostly at ourselves. As I'm sitting here going over the year past, in my mind, the theme tune from the play Rent is playing in my head, "two hundred sixty five thousand six hundred minutes, how do you measure, measure a year?" And of course that reminds me of taking Kathy, Kara and Sybil to see the play in Atlanta. That was before Sybil became a wife and mother, and before Kara became a teacher. And yet, it was only, what, three years ago.
Stacey passed her teachers certification this past year and became a teacher and I was so happy for her. Then she and Michael purchased a home, as did Sybil the year before and Kara the year before that. I'm so proud of them all; what an accomplishment during some of the most difficult economic times in decades. I guess they learned the whole plan and persevere lesson pretty well. Good for them.
But how have I grown this past year? That is hard to say and will require some additional pondering. But I have come to recognize an essential truth of life. Most of the things I envisioned for my life have come to pass. It is very odd to wake up one day and realize many of your notions about how you wanted to live your life have actually happened, not through some design or plan, but moreover, you just one day realized that "it" had happened. If I had a chance to make any changes in my life, I guess it would have been to dream bigger. It is true what they say about not selling your dreams short.
Of course this isn't the end and there are so many "song lines" left to write, so it is time to go out and find them. I'll try to check in again before another year goes by.
"The secret to life is enjoying the passage of time. Any fool can do it, there's really nothing to it. Nobody knows how they got to the top of the hill. But now we're on the other side, we may as well enjoy the ride. It's such a lovely ride." James Taylor
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
It has been a while since I posted anything here, which would make one think there isn't much "living" going on in Fairhope. Nothing could be farther from the truth, in fact, it is precisely the "living" that has been in the way of writing. So a quick rundown would be in order. Since February, I have been directly involved in the Alabama Coastal Foundation Gumbo Cook-off, the Pt. Clear Taste of Rotary fundraiser, the Fairhope Rotary International Steak Cook-off, Eastern Shore Chamber volunteer appreciation, hosted an exchange group from Sweden, along with various other routine events such as the monthly artwalk, Thursday afternoon Fairhope Philosophical Society, and so on. By any measure, it has been a full 3 months.
But on April 20, all of us along the gulf coast woke up to the prospect that our beautiful place by the ocean could forever be changed in the worst possible way. The first days after the explosion and loss of life on the drilling rig, Deep Water Horizon, cast a pall over the entire region. You could feel the sense of loss and depression in everyone you encountered. You could read it on their faces. Having lived through many hurricanes in my 50+ years, I like many others, resolved to meet this threat with the same preparedness.
But unlike a hurricane that blows in, wreaking destruction and then slowly dying off, leaving a calm that is surreal but serene, a sort of natural cleansing, this is something entirely different. This is wrought by man, more like a war, but not just a war against our neighbors, rather a war against ourselves. Like landmines that continue to maim and kill long after the war is over, the effects of this will linger on for decades or longer.
It is interesting to watch how we humans deal with the inevitable. I watch the news reports as the reporters struggle to cover all the myriad of angles. I see Ralph, a third generation seafood purveyor, interviewed about the run on seafood by customers new and old. "Get it before it is gone", becomes the mantra. I suddenly have a craving for a shrimp and oyster poboy or grilled tuna. Bring an order of crab claws, please. Amazing how precious our world becomes when we are threatened with losing it.
It is times like these, when the overwhelming power of the big corporations and government agencies swarm in, that you are faced with the realization that these entities, in whom we put so much faith to look out for our interests, so often can't or won't do what we expect them to do. It is easy for the average person to feel isolated, and in some ways captive in your own land. Fortunately, we have numerous citizens groups who have been working for years trying to improve the quality and sustainability of the marvelous ecosystem that is ours along the Alabama Coast. The good work they have done over the years, the constituencies they have created, and their knowledge of the environment have earned them a place at table where major decisions are made about how to manage the response.
The Alabama Coastal Foundation, Mobile Baykeepers, and the Mobile Bay National Estuary Program, are among the main players in providing valuable information to the Coast Guard, BP, and DHS. In addition they are mobilizing volunteers, organizing group clean-ups and disseminating value, correct information. Too often people have ignored the efforts of these groups to call attention and spur citizens to action, and yet suddenly when there is a crisis, the masses wake up. Thousands are joining fan pages, volunteering and holding fundraisers. And we welcome them and applaud their willingness to participate. But I wonder, how long before they fall back into slumber and become complacent?
This is my biggest fear as the days and weeks pass since we were blasted awake. Daily we watch the reports and our hopes and anxieties ebb and flow with the tides. We are more attuned to the reports of winds and currents and what defensive measures are being taken. We see the maps depicting the "heavy crude slick", the "light crude sheen" and the "area of uncertainty". And still the oil does not come. Livelihoods are being ruined, tourists are canceling plans to visit, and still the oil does not come. But we know it is there, lurking on top and beneath the surface.
Every day I feel compelled to walk down to the bluff and look out across the bay, to sear into my memory the way it looks, today and pray that it will stay that way. And I wait.
But on April 20, all of us along the gulf coast woke up to the prospect that our beautiful place by the ocean could forever be changed in the worst possible way. The first days after the explosion and loss of life on the drilling rig, Deep Water Horizon, cast a pall over the entire region. You could feel the sense of loss and depression in everyone you encountered. You could read it on their faces. Having lived through many hurricanes in my 50+ years, I like many others, resolved to meet this threat with the same preparedness.
But unlike a hurricane that blows in, wreaking destruction and then slowly dying off, leaving a calm that is surreal but serene, a sort of natural cleansing, this is something entirely different. This is wrought by man, more like a war, but not just a war against our neighbors, rather a war against ourselves. Like landmines that continue to maim and kill long after the war is over, the effects of this will linger on for decades or longer.
It is interesting to watch how we humans deal with the inevitable. I watch the news reports as the reporters struggle to cover all the myriad of angles. I see Ralph, a third generation seafood purveyor, interviewed about the run on seafood by customers new and old. "Get it before it is gone", becomes the mantra. I suddenly have a craving for a shrimp and oyster poboy or grilled tuna. Bring an order of crab claws, please. Amazing how precious our world becomes when we are threatened with losing it.
It is times like these, when the overwhelming power of the big corporations and government agencies swarm in, that you are faced with the realization that these entities, in whom we put so much faith to look out for our interests, so often can't or won't do what we expect them to do. It is easy for the average person to feel isolated, and in some ways captive in your own land. Fortunately, we have numerous citizens groups who have been working for years trying to improve the quality and sustainability of the marvelous ecosystem that is ours along the Alabama Coast. The good work they have done over the years, the constituencies they have created, and their knowledge of the environment have earned them a place at table where major decisions are made about how to manage the response.
The Alabama Coastal Foundation, Mobile Baykeepers, and the Mobile Bay National Estuary Program, are among the main players in providing valuable information to the Coast Guard, BP, and DHS. In addition they are mobilizing volunteers, organizing group clean-ups and disseminating value, correct information. Too often people have ignored the efforts of these groups to call attention and spur citizens to action, and yet suddenly when there is a crisis, the masses wake up. Thousands are joining fan pages, volunteering and holding fundraisers. And we welcome them and applaud their willingness to participate. But I wonder, how long before they fall back into slumber and become complacent?
This is my biggest fear as the days and weeks pass since we were blasted awake. Daily we watch the reports and our hopes and anxieties ebb and flow with the tides. We are more attuned to the reports of winds and currents and what defensive measures are being taken. We see the maps depicting the "heavy crude slick", the "light crude sheen" and the "area of uncertainty". And still the oil does not come. Livelihoods are being ruined, tourists are canceling plans to visit, and still the oil does not come. But we know it is there, lurking on top and beneath the surface.
Every day I feel compelled to walk down to the bluff and look out across the bay, to sear into my memory the way it looks, today and pray that it will stay that way. And I wait.
Saturday, February 20, 2010
The First Step
All the old cliches come to mind as I begin this effort. A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step, eat an elephant one bite at a time, and so forth and so on. But it is true, everything has a beginning and for my blog this is it. I actually set this up about 3 months ago and have been attempting to summon the courage, or hubris or whatever it is that makes people do this sort of thing, ever since. At any rate here I go, off and running, well probably more like meandering. I'll see how it goes and then maybe tell someone about it.
About the name of the blog, "Fairhope Living", it's just where I am. Looking back, it was destined that Fairhope is where I would ultimately end up. Moving here had been a nagging impetus somewhere in my mind for probably 35 years until somehow, almost without any intent, I wound up in Fairhope, AL. But this isn't about the past but the now. There is always something happening to report on so here we go.
Today was the annual Chili for Charity cook-off to benefit the Baldwin County Ecumenical ministries. My Rotary club always enters a team and we gather for the cooking of the chili the night before the event. There is some stirring of the chili and a lot of drinking of the scotch that occurs. Of course there is some exchange of ideas; not on the scale of the Fairhope Philosophical Society, but more on that in a later post.
A call from a favored client and friend, yesterday, changed my plans for the participating this year. It was an invitation to meet for an early morning round of golf at the Lakewood Golf club. The year was 1970 when I first picked up a club and played this storied course. Part of the grounds of the fabled Grand Hotel at Pt. Clear, this place is woven throughout the fabric of my life. So it was appropriate that on this day, blessed with perfect weather, we set off for a morning of relationship renewal.
No one appreciates the history of Lakewood more than my partner on this day, he being a student of history with an great appreciation for the customs and traditions that saturate this place. As we played through fareways lined with century's old, moss filled oaks, past the Confederate soldiers cemetery, and finishing with lunch in the history rich clubhouse, I was in the moment while awash with memories of other days spent here.
Of course we discussed real estate, that being the basis of our business relationship, he being the president of a national real estate franchise organization and me in the role of his advertising agency. Having been a former resident of Lakewood, Marty was interested in state of Fairhope Real Estate. I shared with him the great opportunities that exist such as those at the Colony at the Grand.
After lunch we said our goodbyes and returned to the real world, secure in the knowledge we had done our part in keeping the traditions alive.
About the name of the blog, "Fairhope Living", it's just where I am. Looking back, it was destined that Fairhope is where I would ultimately end up. Moving here had been a nagging impetus somewhere in my mind for probably 35 years until somehow, almost without any intent, I wound up in Fairhope, AL. But this isn't about the past but the now. There is always something happening to report on so here we go.
Today was the annual Chili for Charity cook-off to benefit the Baldwin County Ecumenical ministries. My Rotary club always enters a team and we gather for the cooking of the chili the night before the event. There is some stirring of the chili and a lot of drinking of the scotch that occurs. Of course there is some exchange of ideas; not on the scale of the Fairhope Philosophical Society, but more on that in a later post.
A call from a favored client and friend, yesterday, changed my plans for the participating this year. It was an invitation to meet for an early morning round of golf at the Lakewood Golf club. The year was 1970 when I first picked up a club and played this storied course. Part of the grounds of the fabled Grand Hotel at Pt. Clear, this place is woven throughout the fabric of my life. So it was appropriate that on this day, blessed with perfect weather, we set off for a morning of relationship renewal.
No one appreciates the history of Lakewood more than my partner on this day, he being a student of history with an great appreciation for the customs and traditions that saturate this place. As we played through fareways lined with century's old, moss filled oaks, past the Confederate soldiers cemetery, and finishing with lunch in the history rich clubhouse, I was in the moment while awash with memories of other days spent here.
Of course we discussed real estate, that being the basis of our business relationship, he being the president of a national real estate franchise organization and me in the role of his advertising agency. Having been a former resident of Lakewood, Marty was interested in state of Fairhope Real Estate. I shared with him the great opportunities that exist such as those at the Colony at the Grand.
After lunch we said our goodbyes and returned to the real world, secure in the knowledge we had done our part in keeping the traditions alive.
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