These Dogs Are Broken. Can We Get Some New Ones?

By Catherine Breese

HenryRemember that scene in It’s a Wonderful Life, the one where Jimmy Stewart has come to the realization that Uncle Billy has lost the bank deposit and a huge scandal is a certainty? He comes home shaking and sweating. One child is practicing the piano loudly and badly, and Zuzu is sick. He yells, “Why do we have to have all these kids anyway?” Often these days I find myself saying, “Why do we have to have all these dogs anyway?”

For the record, I love my dogs. I am a dog person. I give to the SPCA annually and adopted both my dogs at the Kanawha County Animal Shelter. Let the record also show that my dogs can’t read and so nothing written here will hurt their feelings.

Bryan and HenryBut really, I am very, very exhausted by all of the joy my two dogs bring me. I know I am not supposed to say this. It’s like saying you are sick of your kids…no, actually lots of people get away with complaining about their kids. But somehow when you complain about your dog, people get all mushy and feel sad for the silly fur bag. It’s more like saying you hate your grandmother. Yes, that’s a better comparison.

I’ve had dogs all my life, and I’ve had some great dogs. These aren’t them.

Henry and Pancake have their own special quirks. Henry’s got some bladder and flow issues. Henry Sprinkler is his nickname, or sometimes The Piddler. He pees when he’s excited, when he’s angry, when he’s guilty, when he meets a stranger, etc. He will pee on any surface but definitely prefers carpet. Loving Henry means loving to clean the floor. Now, Pancake has little man’s syndrome, barking loudly with hackles up at the slightest provocation. And oh the drama! If he’s nervous and any part of his body is touched, even lightly, he cries out in this terrified girlish scream of a Chihuahua in a bear trap. The other day he made this scream when I was wiping his feet. People across the park turn, stare, and gasp in horror. It is terribly embarrassing. When you adopt dogs, you get what you get.

Henry and Pancake - LargeNot that we haven’t tried to train them. Oh, we have. Five years of walking on a leash every single day, but God help us if one of them sees a squirrel or another dog. They will jerk our arms right out of the shoulder joint. They have also never gotten out of the habit of taking off when let off the leash. If the front door is accidentally left ajar, they run away as though they’ve been held and tortured at the Louisiana State Penitentiary in Angola. Pancake comes back after a few laps of the neighborhood. Henry has to be rounded up; he has no intention of returning. Henry would happily move into the home of anyone silly enough to invite him inside. Zero loyalty. It’s a fine thanks, since we actually saved his life when we adopted him. They don’t like balls or Frisbees or sticks. They will not fetch, or catch anything that is not a dog cookie. The only game they do play is a game we like to call “Michael Vick Comes for a Visit,” in which they wrestle so viciously that we have to break it up.

They only have one talent, really. And that is looking cute. (Their other skill is shedding, but most people don’t look at it that way.)

Since we have been traveling our wonderful beasts are with us 24/7. Where we go, they go. And I, for one, could use a break.

Recently, they have gotten to hang out with their cousin Erma (a talented red lab who walks herself on a leash–yes, walks herself). Although Erma exhibits all the desirable doggie skills—fetching, playing ball, peeing outdoors—Henry and Pancake have learned nothing by example. It’s sad really. It’s as though they can’t learn a new trick.

Dog PackErma has been a generous doggie hostess, sharing her bones, toys, and yard. Yet, Henry and Pancake are much more annoying than they are grateful. After we were here for a few days Henry figured out that Erma is a girl and has been endlessly harassing her. He has neither the equipment nor the skill to knock her up, but that hasn’t stopped him from trying several times a day. In fact, Henry and Pancake are like the New Yorkers on our trip, complaining about everything from the food to the sleeping accommodations. When we take them outside, they make a beeline for the car as if to say, “Time to go home, now.” (They are woefully unaware that their home actually is the blue Ford Freestyle in the driveway.)

They are just really bad house guests, I guess, and by virtue of the fact that they’re with us, that makes us bad guests as well. Um, I’d better stop here. Otherwise I might scare off other friends who have offered places for us to stay. Really, they’re very sweet dogs. I swear.

Henry and Erma

Along the Way–The National Mustard Museum

By Bryan Ward

 

mustard museumA few miles west of Madison, Wisconsin, lies the bustling hamlet of Middleton. If you pull off the main drag and turn onto Hubbard Street you will find the National Mustard Museum. Yes, you read that correctly. The museum houses a collection of over 5,500 mustards and mustard related items from all 50 states and more than 70 countries around the globe.The museum was founded in 1992 by Barry Levenson who left his position in Wisconsin’s Attorney Generals Office to open the museum. (Clever fellow!) Today, the museum and gift shop is one of the most popular attractions in Wisconsin. (We couldn’t help but notice that the state of Wisconsin is home to most of the world’s largest, tallest, and most popular superlatives.)

The Alta Blue Skies crew was accompanied by the Wojda Family, of the Lake Bluff Wojda’s, on our visit to the museum.  Our visit was wedged between a tour of Frank Lloyd Wright’s Studio and Home,Taliesin, in Spring Green and a stop at a famous and important ice cream shop in Madison.

window1The charming staff of the museum literally came to the curb to greet us. It must have been all of the camera equipment and our willingness to stop traffic to get the perfect shot.

On the day of our visit we were greeted with a college football and tailgate themed window display touting America’s Mustard College, Poupon U.  Much of what made the museum fun was the mustard-themed humor that was found throughout the place.

comicWhile the museum is kitchy, it is anything but cliché. Instead of the traditional exit through the gift shop, at the National Mustard Museum you enter through the gift shop and tasting area. A brilliant marketing scheme! The staff told us that we could taste anything that we saw in the gift shop. If they did not have one already opened, they pulled one from the shelf and open it for sampling. While we were excited to get tasting we deferred until after we looked at the exhibits.

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The lower level of the museum is where the collection compiled by Levenson and the Mustard Museum staff can really be appreciated. Cans, crocks, jars, costumes and every type of mustard related item can be found. The major mustard icons, like French’s and Grey Poupon loom large, but other mustards from around the country and the world line the walls. I like to pride myself in my knowledge of mustard; I was a hotdogforeign mustard vendor once. But when you look at this giant collection you begin to realize that as humans we love our condiments. I can’t think of any other animal on the planet that would stop their evening meal to say, “Hey, this is good, but if we had some mustard it would be better….Honey? Where do we keep the mustard. I don’t see it.” Of course the mama bears and lioness do have an advantage in that they don’t have to stop eating their salmon  or wildebeest and look behind the orange juice to find the mustard.

mustard bathBeyond that I think what surprised me the most  was the old age of many of the jars, containers, and cans. I guess in my mind I had grouped mustard with the invention of tooth paste in the 1920s. (You know the story, how the marketing folks convinced everyone that bad breath was not good and that we should fix it. I know some may note the inherent exploitive capitalism in such a tale, but I think I have to agree with the marketing people on that one.) But, the truth is mustard is a very interesting and tasty part of our culinary history and we have been enjoying it in its condiment form since the Romans. 

winnersAfter scouring the collection we made our way back to the tasting floor. Luckily for us, the room was still set up from the World Wide Mustard competition and the winners were aligned for easy sampling. They were delicious, almost every one! We lingered long into the afternoon tasting samples. In fact, only the unavailability of beer got our behinds out of there. If you decide to visit, take big money with you because while the museum is free, its really hard not to leave without arm loads of mustard.

For more information about the National Mustard Museum visit their website at: http://mustardmuseum.com/

To see more photographs from the National Mustard Museum please visit the Alta Blue Skies Photo Gallery at: http://wardcreativegroup.com/photography/

mustard sign

I Like Big Stuff and I Cannot Lie

By Catherine Breese

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While it is my sexist opinion that men seem more impressed with big stuff than women do, I have been surprised recently at my own enthusiasm over some really large things.[i] The state of Wisconsin is home to a disproportionate number of disproportionate items: giant mice (residing at the omnipresent cheese shops), giant cows, giant moose, giant men, etc. A giant pink elephant wearing glasses was so enticing that I got out of the car in the rain to have my picture taken with it. Giant cows are also utterly irresistible. (Sorry.) At one cheese shop, Bryan demonstrated the proper technique for having one’s picture taken under a giant cow’s giant udders. A minivan-load of children was enthralled and one boy immediately jumped out and followed Bryan’s example. You’re welcome, mom and dad. The world’s largest fiberglass bicyclist, the 30 ft. tall and handsome Ben Biken, tempted us right into a roadside rest area, and a giant ear of corn lured us into a Peck’s Farm Market and petting zoo.

DSC_0717 - CopyIn Sparta, Wisconsin, we found the source of all this weird wonderfulness, the FAST Corp. (Fiberglass Animals Shapes and Trademarks). This bizarre place, a roadside attraction in itself, is where many of the oversized things along the American roadside are born. YouDSC_0983 can’t really miss it because a menagerie of their colossal creatures is lined up next to the highway, just waiting for potential buyers to take one home. They make the fiberglass creations in an industrial-type shop from which puffs of powdery fiberglass dust were wafting. However, the real magic was found in the huge yard behind the shop. This is where all of the molds are kept until they are needed. It is a veritable bone yard of molds for every conceivable enormous item. When I first set eyes on it, I gasped in delight. It was that same awe inspired breath that I felt the very first time I went into a major league baseball stadium and saw the green of the field. You don’t know what to say except, “Wow!”DSC_0930

Some highlights from our trek up and down each row include the Bob’s/Elby’s Big Boy, a 30 foot Abraham Lincoln, the world’s largest Muskie (145 ft. in length, found at the Freshwater Fish Hall of Fame), E.T., Paul Bunyan, a giant ice cream cone, a root beer mug, and a huge Labrador retriever. We also found mold for the cow we had taken our pictures with a couple days earlier as well as the elephant. It was, in every way, supercool!

DSC_0935I am currently working on a list of jobs I would like to have—customer service rep at FAST Corp. is one of them. “Hi, thank you for calling FAST Corp. How can I help you? …No, we’re not making any Mohicans right now. Could I interest you in Abraham Lincoln or perhaps a Spartan? We do have a Jesus in your price range. Or we have 8 ft. Yogi Bear if you’re on a budget.” And can you imagine how much fun it is to drive the truck that delivers one of these gigantic creatures? Fun, fun, fun. Yes, there are less glamorous jobs here; working with fiberglass is smelly and dirty. But at the end of the day when the men that work at FAST clean up and go home, they can look at the ginormous fruits of the labor lined up neatly along the highway and they can feel good about themselves. Bringing really big things to the American traveler is a special honor.


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[i] Bryan and I were forced into roshambo (rock-paper-scissors) to determine who got to write on this topic. I think we can all agree that had Bryan won, the essay would have been filled with innuendo and double entendre. I think the greater good was served. He might disagree.

 

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Why Do We Own So Damn Many Toiletries?

By Catherine Breese

store-2.jpgIf your clothes are neatly folded and organized in drawers, consider yourself a fortunate person.First, I admit that own a lot of clothes. Most of them are in storage, but I managed to fill a rather large duffle bag before we left Charleston. Digging through my bag of clothes is now one of my most dreaded activities, and it seems to be necessary far too often. Whatever it is I’m looking for seems always to be in the bottom, requiring rummaging, cursing, yelling at Bryan for no good reason, and eventually emptying the contents of the bag. This recurring event makes me want to swallow a hot coal.

Furthermore, I own too many multiples. Here’s a count of V neck t-shirts in my suitcase: five. (This is in addition to my seven crew necks.) They are fuchsia, dark purple, navy blue and green stripped, plain navy blue, and white. Now if these shirts were located in a warm, dry brick home, folded in drawers or hanging on hangers, then five would be, well, still would be an entirely excessive number of V neck t-shirts. Why do I have all these? I do not know. I could try to justify it by mentioning that I like to avoid laundromats and having a lot of shirts aids in that endeavor. But, really, I have no good reason.

Second, why in the hell do we own so many toiletries? Ok here’s the tally: two medium-sized Rubbermaid clear plastic tubs, two full-size ditty bags, three gallon-size Zip-lock bags, and one shower caddy full of necessities.[i] And we may have even left some toiletries in storage, but neither of us can remember. I wish I were using hyperbole here, but I am not. We really have all this in our car.

Oh, and we’re out of soap right now.

Sadly, we have actually tried to pare some of this down. The shower caddy was purchased to simplify our trips to campground bathhouses. It has got a nice handle. But, it really did nothing to better organize or reduce our health and beauty burden. When I try to throw something away, there’s an almost supernatural force that stops me. The source of this refusal could be my mother’s Depression era practicality whispering in the back of my brain. Or it may be the fact that I’m aware that having to replace an item later may cut into my three-meal-a-day eating habit. Whatever the case, I can’t seem to decide that I don’t need this stuff.

I really want to imitate Jesus and relinquish my earthly possessions. I really want to listen to the Buddha and rid myself of my attachments. But I don’t think I can. Because you never know when you’re going to need some raisin colored eye shadow, a Vitamin C tablet, or a splash of Brute aftershave.


[i] Without going into embarrassing details, the contents of each of these containers is a wide variety of health, beauty, and hygiene related items. There are some duplicate items because of cost (Buy two, save a dollar!). The items for men and items for women are about equal in quantity, and everything in all of the containers has been opened and used at least one time.

Even a Caveman Can Do It

By Bryan Ward

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When I first conceived of this article it was going to be a comedic romp about what it is like to tent camp in the cold. The nice older lady at the camp desk had urged us to get a cabin, in spite of the fact that our dogs violated their cabin policy. I figured that she knew that the forecast was for 35 degrees and really didn’t want to us to be cold. Or, more cynically, perhaps she did not want to have to deal with the fallout from two idiots who froze themselves and their two dogs to death. She smiled nonetheless as she showed us our tent site on the campground map.

As we were leaving the office of the Hixon/Alma Center KOA, I recognized a bronze plaque that met the National Park Service standard for a National Register of Historic Places site. Upon further investigation I learned that somewhere nearby wSilver Mound 1as the location of the Silver Mound Archaeological Site, which had received National Historic Landmark status. For those not familiar with the intricacies of historic preservation lingo, this is the highest status for historic sites in the U.S. The Statue of Liberty, the Gateway Arch, the U.S.S. Constitution—and let’s not forget the Grave Creek Mound in Moundsville, West Virginia—are on the list as well. So, it’s sort of a big deal. The marker was on some sort of mobile wooden sled. This, I presume, was to move it around as to fool potential looters and/or hooligans. In spite of their efforts at subterfuge, I am pretty sure that my campsite was not too far from the site itself because, after some midnight hydraulic flow testing (one of the many advantages of being a boy), I came across a faded sign warning people no to steal stuff from the Silver Mound Archaeological Site. After looking at some rustic stone artifacts on display in the KOA combination laundry and game room, I found out that the site was primarily used for making tools.

Silver Mound Display

In the morning when I emerged from our heated tent (Don’t ask… “Safety third” is our motto here at Alta Blue Skies), I started a fire, made some coffee, and began to consider those cave people. Between 12,000 and 9,500 years ago Paleo-Indians, as the archaeologist call them, came to Wisconsin to this very place. They dug into the hillside with sticks so that they could make some rock tools to kill mastodons and wooly mammoths and then process them so they could eat them. I won’t judge the sanity of killing huge animals with a rock-tipped spear, but I, myself, have been hungry enough to eat a mastodon, so I get it. I assume their fur and leather clothing might have chafed a bit and probably smelled absolutely awful. I also suspect that they were really happy just to have fire, and did not complain about the quality of the firewood or that $5 for a small bag was a total rip-off. And I wondered, were cave-teenagers spoiled, too? I can only imagine what cave parents said to their kids. “Oh, back in my day we didn’t have a warm cave to sleep in or fire to cook our food. We just ate raw meat and slept on the jagged rocks and ice, but we were damn glad to have that ice to sleep on.” So, at least for a few moments, I felt a little bit like a pansy.

Silver Mound Arch DistrictYes, it is cold, very cold, almost freezing. It’s a real pain trying to connect to the Internet with my IPad. Instant coffee is still instant coffee. But, in life we are the product of our choices. Fortunately for me I have many. I can rent a cabin, for example, if I get too cold. And I can hit the Waffle House if I’m really, really hungry. The cave people that found this place so many years ago didn’t have as many options. The tenacity and resolve required to sleep in a cave and to hunt with a sharp rock is beyond our modern conception. I doubt many, or even any, of us could do it. But a caveman could.

For more information about the Silver Mound Archaeological district go to: http://www.uwlax.edu/mvac/specificsites/silvermound.htm.

Rules of the Road

By Catherine Breese and Bryan Ward

 

Chicago SkylineTraveling is fun, and perhaps that’s why almost everybody claims it as a hobby. Traveling is also not fun. That’s why people don’t actually do it very often.

Here is a set of rules for travel that we recommend. We have arrived at these through a careful process of trial and error that cannot be matched by any university study nor GlaxoSmithKline drug trial.

Before You Leave

1. Buy vital stuff (Boca burgers, limes, booze, tampons, etc.) and carry extra. Bringing along that extra box of Sudafed beats the hell out of screaming at each other about whether the closest Walgreens is the next left or the next right.

2. It is wise to bring weather-appropriate clothing, but pack one outfit that is off-temperature. Otherwise you may find yourself in a town without a Macy’s or a Kohl’s, looking through racks and racks of out-of-style jeans at the local Salvation Army Thrift Store.

3. Deodorant is the MOST important of all the toiletries. Breath mints and gum are everywhere. Deodorant costs $47 at a convenience store.

4. If traveling with kids, bring enough toothbrushes for all. Yes, they say they packed it, but they did not. If you’re making several stops, multiply the necessary toothbrushes by the number of stops where they will be left accordingly.

5. Give each child on the trip ten dollars. Tell them you will not be buying any snacks or candy for anyone at gas stations or rest areas; they are expected to buy their own. End result: no one gets all sugared-up and every kid has ten dollars at the end of the trip.

6. Pack two car snack bags. Fill one with carrots and celery, and when the first person says “I’m hungry,” pull that one out and pass it around. The second bag should contain candy bars and chips. This bag is to be kept hidden as though it were a national security secret. It can be used in emergency situation if necessary. Or, secretly eaten by the person who spent all his/her time and energy to plan a trip and cut up carrots and pack suitcases. He/she deserves it.

7. Let the bossiest person in the house be in charge of packing the car. Mid-trip, when something has to be dug out from the bottom of the trunk, you can say “I told you we might need that,” even if you didn’t. And it will be soooooo funny. The person will just laugh and laugh and laugh.

Ohio Interstate

On the Road

1. Pulling out of the drive, make wagers on which traveler will have the first meltdown. Mention everyone in the car. This is the most effective deterrent of the mid-trip meltdown that we have ever devised.

2. Headphones, video, music, audiobooks for all…whatever it takes. Sorry Good Parenting Magazine, it is NOT FUN to pretend it is 1972 and you have to play I Spy and 20 Questions until someone cries.

3. If you see traveling as a big part of your future, pick a mate with a similar bladder capacity. There is nothing worse than being told you don’t have to pee.

4. When asked “How much further?” the answer is “20 minutes.”

5. Follow the directions given by your GPS device. It is fine if everyone in the car is mad at the device. It is not as much fun when everyone is mad at you.

6. Take care at rest stops. Never leave a man behind. Unless you are trying to make a point.

7. When eating on the road, avoid restaurants that have “help wanted” signs or long lines of waiting customers. The potential payoff will never be worth the sacrifice.

8. Going to MacDonald’s in a faraway town is exactly the same disappointing experience that it is your own home town. Be adventurous. Try local restaurants. However, avoid buffets. Buffet is the French word for “nothing served is crunchy.”

9. Don’t eat at a Waffle House, unless you are staying in town.

Hixon KOA ConnestogaOnce You Arrive

1. Agree on a location for the placement of the car keys and the cell phones and follow the agreement religiously. The person who says, “Does anyone know where I put the car keys?” is a nincompoop. Furthermore, announcing loudly the location of your phone/keys does not obligate anyone to listen to you.

2. Spending $200 a night for a room is no guarantee that a tour bus emitting fumes and motor noise will not be parked under your window all night long. Likewise spending $55 does not guarantee that hookers and their clients will be running the halls. If you spend less than $50…no, don’t do that.

3. Don’t stay at a hotel that advertises “Weekly Rates” or “American Owned” on its sign. Sleeping in the car is preferable to sleeping in a room that reminds you of a murder scene from the Rockford Files.

4. If you arrive without your phone charger, go to the front desk. They have a box with hundreds of them under the counter.

5. If you are camping, choose the site closest to the bathhouse. Listen to the camp host for all other advice. He/she will not steer you wrong.

6. If you are camping in a tent, start saving for an RV. They are awesome and you need one.

DSC_0539Tours and Attractions

1. Gilligan’s Island Rule: No tours longer than 3 hours.

2. Pass the camera around. The family cameraman/woman deserves to be in a shot or two. Photograph the iconic and the ironic. Take pictures of the people riding in the car. And, don’t let a 14 year old boy, or any man at all really, take a picture of a phallus shaped object.

3. Research attractions before you hit the road. If you are already underway, use your electronic gadget before you exit the highway to investigate possible stops on the Internet. Nobody wants to drive 30 miles out of the way to see Abraham Lincoln’s step-father’s replica cabin that Lincoln himself may or may not have actually visited.

4. When on a tour, save sarcastic comments and/or brilliant comedic observations for the ride home. “How many mistresses did he have during his second marriage?” is not an appropriate question ask a tour guide.

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Departure

1. Have a departure time in mind, but don’t share it with the others. Tell them a later time, so when they passive-aggressively sabotage the departure with lipstick and/or hair emergencies, you will be able leave on your previously selected time, and they will be able to have a hollow and petty victory.

2. Put the kids in the car first, no matter their age. Then pack up to go. They aren’t going to help. Really. And any help they give will likely have to be undone later.

3. Talk about your favorite part of the trip on the way home. The bad parts will start to disappear immediately. Human memory is so malleable. If people have fond memories of the Great Depression and World War II…that’s all we’re saying.

4. Upon arrival at your home, everybody helps unload. Save heavier items for whoever has to “go to the bathroom,” first.

5. Always say thank you. Even when you don’t mean it.

Got any great road advice? Share it in the comments section below.

Snapshots of Oberlin, Ohio

Click below to see some snap shops of Oberlin, Ohio

Good-Bye Canada and Thanks for the Good Mojo

By Catherine Breese and Bryan Ward

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Here are a few things we learned during our stay in Canada:

An outdoor shower is not as good as it sounds.

Canadians hate Canadian Geese, too.

The spiritual experience of seeing the sun rise wears off after about four days.

Burning a huge pile of brush can be scary, and super-fun.

The automatic ice maker is, indeed, the greatest invention of the 20th century.

Farmers in Canada are not allowed to use hormones in any livestock production. Yay, Canada!

All 5.5% beer is equally bad. It just seems like they’re not even trying.

Canadians have neat and tidy yards—all of them. Canadians don’t tailgate and they always return their shopping carts to the corral.

Staring at a large body of water is a soul-filling activity, especially with a cocktail in hand.

Man cannot live on fish and chips alone, but he can try.

A rock in your shoe tests your laziness vs. pain threshold.

Self-composting toilets…think about it.

Follow us on Twitter

Need an immediate update on the Alta Blue Skies team? Check our newly minted Twitter feeds at @altablueskies and @bryanwardjr. Or come here and check out our feeds in the sidebar on the right.

 

Come on Baby, Light My Fire

By Bryan Ward

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Cape Crocker Lighthouse

I really want to like lighthouses. I have tried, really tried. I probably have in the neighborhood of 1,997 pictures of them, a dozen or so of them are probably publishable on lesser blogs or Facebook. If I put them all together on an 8 GB flash drive, I would have a respectable stash of lighthouse porn. In spite of all that, they just don’t do it for me.

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Lion’s Head Lighthouse

Look it’s not them. It’s me. They come in all shapes and sizes. Some are tall and skinny, some are modest in height but more voluminous at the base. Some are more approachable and hang out on the beach, while others are more distant and aloof on their craggy islands offshore. Some have huge lenses and others fancy Fresnelled ones. Some stick to the classic white livery, while others are adorned with vibrant colors and Victorian flourishes. And still, nothing. I guess I am just born this way.

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Cove Island Light House

It is almost scandalous, these views I hold. I am a historian and historic preservationist, for crying out loud! If anything, I should have a trunkful of placards, Xeroxed fliers, chains and handcuffs at the ready to “Save the Lighthouse” at all cost. I should have a speech prepared, written on a piece of paper and folded in my wallet with words so inspirational that even the apathetic will be rallied to defend this most sacred relic to the death. And yet my trunk and wallet are as empty as the feelings that I have for lighthouses.

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Manitoulin Island Light House

I am glad that I may be in the minority here. Don’t get me wrong, lighthouses should be protected and saved for future generations. If people want to donate their time and money to the cause, they should. I will cheer them loudly from afar. Maybe my feelings will change with age, but I doubt it. So, please don’t buy me any lighthouse stuff for Christmas. I already have enough.

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Big Tub Harbor Lighthouse, Tobermory