Bert Garcia^2.0

The view from our balcony at the Holiday Inn Resort, overlooking the intracoastal waterway that separates Wrightsville Beach from Wilmington, NC.

This was the first time we had been to the beach since leaving Florida 5 years ago. We all got toasty golden brown, we just couldn’t get enough of the beach and swimming pools. A day of pounding waves made for a very sound and restful sleep, my body still feeling the smashing effects of water. The large waves and cold ocean water was reminiscent of my childhood when we would make the customary summer trips to Jones Beach on Long Island.

We also spent a day of sightseeing in Wilmington, seeing where they had filmed many movies and TV shows, like One Tree Hill. The area is called Cape Fear, legend has it that there are parts of the downtown that are haunted, but that’s another tour.

Afternoon delight, cocktails and moonlit nights
That dreamy look in your eye, give me a tropical contact high

The Vuvuzela, South Africa’s contribution to the 2010 World Cup soccer experience.

Some say
Silence is golden
Well, I choose noise
Well, some say
Silence is golden
Well, I choose noise
I choose noise

Our Kois, the bright yellow Taxi is on top, Peaches & Cream is feeding underneath.

12 days after spring cleaning the pond, we can see all the way to the bottom, the sediment has finally settled. All the rain this past week gave the pond it’s oxygen naturally, I had no need to run the waterfall pump which clouds the water by churning up the sediment.

Now that the water is clear, I can accurately count 2010’s inventory:

• 3 Kois (yellow, white & silver)
• 38 Goldfish (gold;)
• 2 Shubunkin Goldfish (multicolored & black)

That’s enough fish for the pond, which holds about 1,700 gallons of water. Were it not for the amount of Goldfish, the Kois would grow larger, but they’d be lonelier I think. When I see them all schooled together, happily swimming in unison, I couldn’t imagine less fish.

Down here all the fish is happy
As off through the waves they roll
The fish on the land ain’t happy
They sad ‘cause they in their bowl

This past winter was harsher than normal, I couldn’t wait to clean out the pond to see what fish had survived the frozen waters. With the use of a pool skimmer, I kept the majority of fall’s leaves from sinking to the bottom, so I knew there wasn’t much muck but the water was a bit cloudy. In the mornings the fish were at the surface gasping for air, a pond full of fresh water would be most welcome.

Yesterday after doing the lawn, I pointed the water fall outlet towards the drain and watched the green pond water irrigate the backyard. While the pond was emptying I hosed down and brushed off the sides. I wanted to get as much of the dirty water out, leaving just enough so the fish wouldn’t die. When the water reached about a foot of depth, I used the skimmer to scoop up any debris from the bottom of the pond.

The pump filter needed constant cleaning as debris clogged up the mesh protecting it’s inlets. With about 6 inches of water left in the pond, the pump wasn’t sucking up much water out so it was time to start adding back fresh water. Two and half hours later, the pond was full of fresh smelling and clear water. The fish came alive swimming around in schools, every so often putting themselves at the mouth of the water hose to get their intake of oxygen.

A song I heard the ocean sing
A shining light in darkness deep
I prayed a prayer into the tide
And both they soothed me in my sleep

We were itching to hit the beaches this year, our preferred strip of sand is on the Gulf Coast of Florida, but it’s looking like that’s not going to be a desirable destination this summer.

Like Florida needs another economic hit, with foreclosures causing the tax base to dwindle and head out of state, tourism is their only hope to weather the financial storm. The Deepwater Horizon oil rig exploding in the Gulf and continuing to spill crude into the waters will ultimately make the sunny shores of Florida smell like a refinery.

We’ll most likely head to the shores of the Carolinas, before the oil spill has a chance to enter the Gulf Stream and makes it’s way up the east coast.

I was born in a cross-fire hurricane
And I howled at my ma in the driving rain,
But it’s all right now, in fact, it’s a gas!

May Day 2010, the workers are marching.

Arizona really did this country a great service, it has united the immigrants. Not just the Hispanics living in Phoenix, but every one of us who came to this country seeking a better life for our families.

Flashback to the early 60’s, my father arrives in this country with a few dollars in his pocket. Lives in a boarding house across the street from the restaurant he works at as a waiter. A year goes by and he’s able to free my mother and I from Castro’s grip. As more time goes by, my dad helps many of our family and friends make the same trip.

My dad was college educated but since he lacked the inglés skills, he ended up waiting tables for most of his life. He was grateful to have been given the chance to enter this country and he served it well, red napkin over his forearm, shoes burning from hours on his feet.

To Arizona and any other states contemplating the same ridiculous path, be careful what you wish for, or you’ll be mowing your own lawns one day.

So now you’d better stop and rebuild all your ruins
For peace and trust can win the day despite of all your losing

From this distant vantage point, the Earth might not seem of particular interest. But for us, it’s different. Consider again that dot. That’s here, that’s home, that’s us. On it everyone you love, everyone you know, everyone you ever heard of, every human being who ever was, lived out their lives. The aggregate of our joy and suffering, thousands of confident religions, ideologies, and economic doctrines, every hunter and forager, every hero and coward, every creator and destroyer of civilization, every king and peasant, every young couple in love, every mother and father, hopeful child, inventor and explorer, every teacher of morals, every corrupt politician, every superstar, every supreme leader, every saint and sinner in the history of our species lived there – on a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam.

The Earth is a very small stage in a vast cosmic arena. Think of the rivers of blood spilled by all those generals and emperors so that, in glory and triumph, they could become the momentary masters of a fraction of a dot. Think of the endless cruelties visited by the inhabitants of one corner of this pixel on the scarcely distinguishable inhabitants of some other corner, how frequent their misunderstandings, how eager they are to kill one another, how fervent their hatreds.

Our posturings, our imagined self-importance, the delusion that we have some privileged position in the Universe, are challenged by this point of pale light. Our planet is a lonely speck in the great enveloping cosmic dark. In our obscurity, in all this vastness, there is no hint that help will come from elsewhere to save us from ourselves.

The Earth is the only world known so far to harbor life. There is nowhere else, at least in the near future, to which our species could migrate. Visit, yes. Settle, not yet. Like it or not, for the moment the Earth is where we make our stand.

It has been said that astronomy is a humbling and character-building experience. There is perhaps no better demonstration of the folly of human conceits than this distant image of our tiny world. To me, it underscores our responsibility to deal more kindly with one another, and to preserve and cherish the pale blue dot, the only home we’ve ever known.

Carl Sagan

Affectionately dubbed Chicharrón.

This was the picture from this past Easter weekend that stuck in my mind, made possible by a local church that offered a petting zoo for the kids to enjoy.

Easter, a celebration of rebirth. All you have to do is look outside at the flowers blooming and the trees sprouting new leaves to get all excited about shorts.

A strange thing happened to me this past week, the crucifix that I’ve had around my neck since I was 18, had Jesus come off of it. While the jeweler was soldering him back to the cross, I couldn’t help but feel bad, like I was commissioning his crucifixion, again.

I am the spring, the holy ground
The endless seed of mystery
The thorn, the veil, the face of grace
The brazen image, the thief of sleep
The ambassador of dreams, the prince of peace

The temperature is in the 70’s, sun shining brightly.

After a 5 month break, I went out for a ride yesterday. I feel like a new person today, no more sore bones, everything feels nicely oiled. Activity, the best medicine, endorphins to wake you and the sun to warm you after a long harsh winter.

Lluvia de sol
Como una Bendicion
La vida renace con su luz
La primavera ya llego

It’s March, where’s spring?

As I sit here in my home office looking out over my backyard pond, where the Kois haven’t broken the surface in months, I long for warmer weather but mother nature has a slightly different agenda. At least I can be thankful for not living in the Northeast where two feet of snow has been the norm this winter.

Next week calls for warmer temperatures, I can only hope that the forecast holds up. I do enjoy the changing seasons but winter needs to give way to spring, so we can shed the pounds we’ve gained, so we can feel renewed.

If spring can take the snow away
Can it melt away all our mistakes?