3 Letter Word for Wistful

I just read in my online news feed that Eli Wallach died. Even though I honestly don't know who Eli is, I am sad. And nostalgic for easier times that weren't so dominated by technology.

When I was a kid in the '70s, I loved Fridays. Yes, because it meant no school for two days, and because it meant that it was "Dallas" night. But mostly because it was the day that the TV Guide arrived in the mail.

Remember TV Guide? It was that little book that listed everything that was on TV for the week, with episode descriptions and the channels indicated by little black boxes with numbers in them.

That was back when there were maybe 13 channels max that you could pull in using rabbit ears, at least two of which were in Spanish. If you were lucky to have cable, you might get another 20 more. But there were only three major networks and they set the tone for the culture and how TV was made. 1970s TV was dominated by laugh tracks and theme songs and Gary Marshall. I know cuz I watched a lot of it.

In fact, I watched so much TV, the weekly TV Guide was largely unnecessary. I knew the schedule of my family's favorite shows. This was before Betamax/VHS/DVR, so all TV was appointment TV. You showed up when it was on; otherwise you had to wait until the summer for reruns to maybe catch the show the second time around.

Nevertheless, I LOVED when the TV Guide arrived each Friday. I would flip through the articles, and see if there were any special episodes I needed to make note of (for instance, the "Love Boat" episode with both Kristy McNichol and Scott Baio...OMG!). But the first order of the day when I snagged the TV Guide out of the mailbox was to flip to the back and attack the crossword puzzle. In pen.

Because the crossword puzzle relied heavily on TV-themed clues, I was pretty good at it. I knew all the current show and actor names, and watched enough vintage TV on Channels 26, 40, and 44 that I even knew about old timey TV like "The Flying Nun" and "Our Miss Brooks" and "The Donna Reed Show" and "Topper."

I would fly through that puzzle in a matter of minutes, often completing it but occasionally leaving just a couple of clues for my dad to fill in. Although Dad didn't have much choice since I got home from school before he got home from work, I now understand what a sacrificial gift of gracious parenting it was that Dad only jokingly showed exasperation that the puzzle was always largely done by the time he first saw it.

So where does Eli Wallach fit into all this?

Well, Eli was a clue that showed up often in my crossword puzzles. Along with Elia Kazan, I didn't know who these guys were other than an actor (Eli) and a director (Elia). But with 3 or 4 letters each -- at least half of which were vowels -- I could count on one of them showing up each week. I had no idea who these men were (in all honesty, I long thought Elia was a girl), but they were still very familiar to me.

And so now, nearly four decades later, with TV Guide's little book having been replaced by the "Guide" button on my remote control, I finally know who Eli is. Thanks to an online news story in the LA Times that I found on Google News, and then further reading on Wikipedia which has made Encyclopedia Britannica all but obsolete, I now know that Mr. Wallach was a method actor who mostly played bad guys. He was in a lot of Tennessee Williams stage plays and then went on to films that my parents never would have let me see. For instance, he was the "ugly" in the Clint Eastwood movie "The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly."

And...Eli won "Most Promising Newcomer" for his role in his film debut. He played a vengeful cotton gin owner in a controversial movie called "Baby Doll" (never heard of it), directed by...Elia Kazan.

Thanks for the memories, Mr. Wallach.  Rest in peace.

Eli Wallach ~ 1915-2014

Elia Kazan ~ 1909-2003

Dramamine is at the top of the packing list

Aaaaaaaand....home. Yay!

As much as I love to travel, I also love that I love coming home. Woodhaven is a very relaxing, deep-breathing sort of place to me. Well, aside from refrigerators that stop working and require replacement immediately upon return home. Yeah, that was fun.

At least it made the piles of laundry seem less daunting

As much as we travel, there are only a handful of places that we return to with any frequency. Yosemite was our first repeat, visited annually for our anniversary. Several years ago, that trip got replaced with a much more proximate quaint-town-on-the-Oregon-coast tradition.

We also now meet up with friends most years in Walla Walla for a weekend of wine fun. And we find ourselves in Kauai every few years as much for the sun as the Puka Dogs.

I'm thinking Alaska might be inching its way onto our "We Need a Break and Don't Want to Do a Lot of Research" travel list. Although we have only been twice now, last week I found myself making comments like "Next time I am going to come with a plan to buy some of those earrings" and "Before our next trip, I will spend some time on Trip Advisor so we don't find ourselves in this disappointing cafe yet again."

Rob and I talked about our next trip to Alaska in much the same way that we started talking about marriage after only a few months of dating: a foregone conclusion that the most fundamental decision had been made already and now we just need to figure out the details.

So why Alaska?

Well, it helps that it is relatively close to Woodhaven and we can cruise there without using an airport. And it helps that the seemingly best way to see its highlights is by cruise. My back likes that a lot.

But more than the convenience, Alaska is just jaw-droppingly beautiful. In its sum, it is unlike any other place I have visited. It has big skies like Montana...only bigger. It has fjords like New Zealand...only more meandering and mysterious. It has wildlife like Yellowstone and Monterey Bay...only completely randomly with an unshakable sense that in Alaska it is by the animals' graciousness and distain for unnatural fibers that they allow us on their turf.

We don't know when our next Alaska cruise will be. We're still debating ports and ship size and which summer month to try next. But I have saved my packing list and plan to keep it handy for whenever the mood and the next "HOT DEAL! ACT FAST!" temptation hits our mailbox. And I am determined to find a place to get a decent sandwich in Ketchikan.

Mendenhall Glacier near Juneau

OK, so it is actually the Best Room Ever

We’re at sea again, with just one more port to go before we drive home. The waters are a lot calmer today than they were that first day, but I still have a Magic Pill on board.

Shipboard consensus is that the first day was indeed pretty nauseating. A 4-time-Alaska-cruiser said that it was by far the worst sea day he had experienced on this route. And the naturalist on board gave it a 6 on a 12-point scale combining wind and wave action. So, all of this is to say, my green gills weren’t entirely our caboose room’s fault.

Rather, I now emphatically agree that our way back room is absolutely an upgrade. So much so that I now believe Alaska via cruise ship should not be experienced any other way. With calm waters, the view back there cannot be beat.

We have made extensive use of our balcony…gawking, photographing, eating, sipping, lounging. Despite the cold air, we had no wind back there. So the blankets I snagged after the first Movie Under the Stars ended up being unnecessary. So yep, Best Cruise Room EVER!

So with that, here’s a little pictorial review of our Room With a View:

Ketchikan:

Tracy Arm Fjord:

Skagway:

Part of my "Ansel Adams" collection

And then there were two

As hoped for, the seas calmed as soon as we had bits of land on either side of us. So to celebrate, we spent our first land day (in Ketchikan) on a boat.

The tour was of the Misty Fjords. So named because they are almost always shrouded in clouds of mist. It makes sense given Ketchikan boasts the title of being the 4th wettest place on earth, with annual rainfall measured in feet. We’ve been to Ketchikan twice now. If you’ve followed our travel tales, it will not surprise you that we have yet to see it rain in Ketchikan. And there wasn’t even the barest hint of mist in the fjords today. Partly sunny and dry all day. The locals were mistified. So goes Travel with Toni and Rob.

The Fjords were still beautiful, if not sadly missing the eerie coziness of a low, damp, grey ceiling. Instead, we were treated to the Alaskan version of Yosemite, were Yosemite Valley filled with water at depths over 150 feet. Sheer granite cliffs, waterfalls, evergreens…the Alaskan fjords had the entire Yosemite package minus the deer and coyotes but plus the seals and one whale. And hardly any people and no snack bars or tour buses. Having not visited our dear Yosemite in over eight years, Rob and I both agreed that seeing Alaska’s Misty Fjords will tide us over for at least a few more years.

However, as beautiful as the scenery was, it is not likely what I will remember first when reflecting on our trip to Alaska’s Un-misty Fjords. No, instead I shall remember this:

Rob and I have been traveling with Piglet our entire married life. Piglet joined our family on an early date to Disneyland. He is on his sixth photo album and has met people and posed with iconic landmarks all over the world. Around Year 3, while traveling along the Blue Ridge Parkway in the Shenandoah Valley, I was forever cured of any embarrassment of posing with Piglet when two teenage boys literally pointed and laughed at me while Rob was aiming the camera. Ever since, I have boldly carried Piglet front and center and posed him unabashedly on many tours and sightseeing trips. People often ask about him, assuming I am either an awesome parent or a young-at-heart grade school teacher. I have seen many a confused cocked head as I reveal I am, in fact, neither.

We occasionally see other folks vacationing similarly, most often with a Flat Stanley. We still exchange Christmas cards and photos with an English couple we met in the mid-90s while hiking Bryce Canyon in Utah. Redvers the Bear lives in England and quite fancies holidays in Cyprus. He and Piglet are old chums.

Today, though, was different. The other woman and I were so excited to discover a kindred spirit, we never exchanged names. Instead, we were unilaterally focused on exchanging stories and marveling at the idea of Pooh and Piglet—BFFs (Best Friends Forever)—finally intersecting on their travels.

I first spotted Pooh as he was being lovingly and carefully cradled by his caretaker. They were wandering about the boat, taking in the unmisty scenery. I grabbed Piglet and my camera and walked up to the woman. I didn’t say a word. Instead, I just smiled and showed her Piglet. A burst of smiles and laughter and then note comparison followed, culminating in a photo shoot of at least a half-dozen photographers.

The similarities were mind-boggling.

Pooh is 20 years old; Piglet is 24. Neither can be found anymore, as production has increased while quality has decreased.

Pooh is from the San Francisco Bay Area; Piglet spent his formative years there.

Both have multiple photo albums and have traveled the globe. Cruises are a particular favorite.

Neither is completely understood by the outside world, but both are lovingly embraced in the name of quirky fun.

We exchanged tips on cleaning and maintenance (Woolite as a fine washable is preferred), and we agreed that calling our companions “stuffed animals” is an insult. That commonality revealed itself as we dropped our jaws at almost identical experiences at the Acropolis in which we were each told by mean Greek women that our “dolls” were not allowed to visit the antiquities. While we had different solutions to that affront (Pooh entered minutes later in a backpack; Piglet entered years later in a purse), we immediately shared a bond over the shock and panic few others on earth would completely understand.

It truly was A Moment.

I haven’t seen Pooh since we got off that boat. There’s a very good chance our meeting was simply one of those brief moments of connection, of realizing none of us is really completely alone no matter the scope of our weirdness.

Vacations rock.

Looking Backward to Alaska

I’m wiggly and jiggly and as middle as I can get, surrounded by sounds of shuffling playing cards and people comparing past voyages. The string quartet downstairs is playing every classical composition known in popular culture, mostly thanks to Bugs Bunny. And the gentleman behind me just asked if we are in the Bering Sea.

Not quite. It’s actually just the Pacific Ocean that is bouncing around outside the window.

Our very first cruise ever was almost exactly six years ago, on a similar path that we are sailing right now…although with a different cruise line, a slightly different itinerary, and without our dear friends Carolyn and David. We had such a great time on that trip, we have been carefully watching the “TOP CRUISE DEAL!” promises that fill our mailbox year ‘round so that we could experience Alaska once again.

We finally snagged a great deal back in February, carefully choosing a cabin in the middle of the ship to minimize rocking and rolling. Within hours, the cruise line kindly upgraded our room. We had heard whispered rumors this was possible, but it was the first time we had ever won the Cruise Cabin Upgrade Lottery. Score!

The modern age is a glorious thing, so we immediately Googled our ship’s name and new cabin number. Glowing reviews and impressive snapshots filled our monitor. “Once you go aft, you’ll never go back!” So we accepted our upgrade to the back of the ship with great anticipation. Twenty-four hours and three anti-motion-sickness pills later, I’m sort of wistful for our original, less grand, more middle location.

So yes, our room is at the very back back back of the ship. Nothing behind us, everything in front of us. There are four rooms riding caboose – two regular rooms on the ends, two shmancy suites in between. We have the regular room on the starboard (right) side.

What makes the room an upgrade is the balcony. Because of the shape of the ship, the deck is quite large and very private. And it has pretty much a 180 degree view. Granted, the view is of where we have been, not where we are going, but it is still impressive. We are hoping it proves to be rather spectacular for private, glacier bay cruising in a few days.

About to leave port in Seattle

The room is also very quiet. Nobody in the hallways, seemingly miles away from stairs or elevators, and… as reported…no engine noise. When it was time for the lifejacket safety drill, we were surprised to find we have our own private escape route. Literally. Just us and the room above us and below us are to use the special staircase to muster in case of an emergency. It felt very unrushed and unpanicky and echo-y.

So really, the room is perfect for two introverts on a ship carrying nearly 3,000 athletic-shoed, fanny-packed cruisers. The only thing wrong with it is that it sways. All. over. the. place.

Fortunately, I remember from our 2008 Alaska trip that the first day at sea was a bit of a doozy. By mid-day, all four of us had popped Magic Pills generously available from the Front Desk. So I am hoping this sea sway is just part of the Alaska Adventure and that the water will calm once we are safely inside the Inside Passage.

I have no idea how many times I woke up last night. I am now questioning the wisdom behind rocking babies to sleep. Good grief! The bed shook and pitched and lightly knocked against the wall as if the ship was having quite an amorous night. It was…distracting.

This morning, I was grateful for the handrail in the shower and the fact that I shaved my legs before we left home. Formal Night #2 will just have to be a bit stubbly. Better that than decorated by bloody Kleenex bits.

As the hangers in the closet knocked around, I decided my make-up application was of the “good enough” variety. Introducing wands, sticks, and brushes to my eyeballs seemed unwise. So I am writing this through unadorned eyes.

By 9am, I popped my daily allotment of Magic Pills and eased my way to what must surely be the busiest location on the ship. There’s some sort of t-shirt sale underway, and there’s a long line at the Shore Excursions desk. But despite the horizon still being in constant motion, this mid-ship refuge is less sway-y than our home base. Glory hallelujah.

There’s also going to be a champagne fountain thing nearby in a few hours, which tells me that the fine folks who do this every week know the seas will indeed calm down soon and I will be able to pack away my Dramamine. At least until we head back home.