Calabogie and I

Camping and fishing-trying to get back the father of my early youth.  My dad had a heart attack when I was seven.   He didn’t die, but he was never again the dad that took me camping and fishing and even hunting.  His focus was on his own health.

  In the town I grew up in, many folks loved to fish.  Some of them even went to Canada to fish.  As a teenager, the men of the town allowed me and my buddies to hang around as they shared their stories of all kinds of things.  One of the things they shared was going into Canada to fish.  The talk was always about how amazing fishing was there.  Perch, Bass, Walleye, Northern Pike and even Muskellunge.  I drooled when I heard about the fabled Muskie imagining catching one like shown in figure 1.

Figure 1: The Muskie of My Dreams

            My fishing experience was 7-inch trout, 12-inch catfish, an occasional 14-inch Largemouth Bass, and of course bluegills and sunfish.  I really wanted to do some “real fishing”.

            I had returned to my hometown after most of the year away from home.  I had been expelled from college after my first year.  I had spent part of the year hitchhiking around the country taking odd jobs. I then spent  a 6-month stint living with my brother and his wonderful family.  I was back home working for my uncle, preparing to go back to college in summer.

            I sought out Fred, one of the locals that I remembered talking about Calabogie.  I found him at the local sandwich shop.

            “Hi Fred.”, I said, “Remember me?”

            He replied, "Of course I remember you, Ian.  You were a guard on that 1959-1960 basketball team.  You couldn’t get past that 6 foot seven center Tiny Traylor from Catasauqua.  Your team was just too short.  But you were a mighty fine guard.  I remember you keeping their high-scoring guard to almost nothing.”

            “Well, this isn’t about basketball, Fred. I was wondering what you can tell me about Calabogie, how you can get there, and what to do once there.”

            “I didn’t know you liked fishing, Ian.  Delighted to fill you in.”

            “Yes, my dad used to take me before his heart attack.”

            Fred proceeded to give me everything I needed to know.

            The first thing was to get maps.  I went to Allentown where there was a good bookstore.  There I was able to find maps of Pennsylvania, New York, and Ontario.  I laid out the proposed route on the maps.    Fred had given me enough information to be able to do this without a problem.

            I could see that lake Calabogie emptied into a river called the Madawaska.  The river was important because that is where Fred told me to camp.  He said there really wasn’t any accommodation in town.

            When he told me that, I had to go scrounging.  I found my dad’s tent that we had used back when I was a wee one.  I also found the spinning rod and reel that my folks bought me for my high school graduation.  But then came the real challenge-the lures and gear for fishing for bass, Walleye, Pike, and Muskie.

Figure 2: Lake Calabogie and Madawaska River Running East

            My dad still had his old tackle box with needle nose pliers, leaders, brass swivels, spoons, hooks and a lot of other stuff for fly fishing for trout.  I needed more so I headed to the local hardware store and bought wiggle worms, Rapalas and Mepps.  I also bought some metal leaders, a hook disgorger contraption and a metal stringer.  I already had some good 40-pound silk and nylon line.

            Now I wanted to see if I could get anybody to go with me.  When I was in Illinois with my brother I bought an old rust bucket 1940 Buick, so I knew I could take a couple guys with me.  Two of my former high school classmates said they would love to go along.  They had also heard the stories of mind-bending fishing.

            Jim said to me, “I want to go Ian, but I can only take Friday and Monday off from work.  I guess it takes somewhere between 6 and 8 hours to get there according to Fred.  We can go on Friday, get two full days fishing and back on Monday.  Is that OK?”

Figure 3:1940 Buick Special

            “It’s OK with me, but I have to check with Mike.  I’m pretty sure that’s OK with him.”  I checked with Mike, and it was fine.  Then I arranged a time when all three of us were together.

            “Look guys, I am providing the transportation.  You need to provide the cooking gear and food.  We are going to eat fish, so we will need a frying pan, filet knife, cutting board, some cooking oil, some breadcrumbs as well as a grate to put over the fire.’”

            Mike said,” Good.  I have all that from other camping trips.  Jim, can you get the food.”

            Jim answered, “No problem.  Frankly we won’t need much since we will have fish galore. I do have a small cooler. Milk and cereal for breakfast.  Peanut and jelly sandwiches for lunch and fish for supper. In between for snacks I will bring that gorp mix of raisins, peanuts, and M&M’s.”

            I added, “We need plenty of water.  I will bring Iodine pills and Kool-Aid.  Bring a couple of water jugs each.  And of course, your fishing gear and tent.”

            The next Friday we were off to Calabogie.  We followed the Northeast Extension of the Pennsylvania turnpike to Scranton where we picked up I-81 which ran past Syracuse all the way to the Canadian border at Thousand Islands.  There was a bit of stop and start on I-81 as construction was still in progress.

            We crossed the border a little after 1: 00.  We decided to stop at a diner for a little lunch and then push on.  It was still 2-3 hours to Calabogie, and we needed to set up camp. 

            Lunch finished, Jim said, “We really should buy some beer.”

            Nobody disagreed so we bought a case of Molson Ale.  None of us had ever tasted it but we were excited.

Figure 4: Molson Ale

            We pushed on and were to Calabogie by about 6:00.  We set up camp, munched on some Gorp, had a few beers, and went to bed.

Figure 5:Pup Tent Camping

            I was up at the crack of dawn and had my lure in the river as the sun rose.  Wham, I immediately had a hit.  Quickly, I was bringing in a nice Walleye.

Figure 6: Walleye-Nice Way to Start the Day

            I shouted to Jim and Mike,” Hey guys. The fish are biting.”

            They were out of their tent in short order, fitting their poles and were soon catching fish.  We did that for an hour or so-then sat down for our cold breakfast.  We made a small fire and made campers coffee, coffee grounds in pot of water brought to boil.   We used a kerchief to filter it.

            I said, “Let’s go get our boat so we can fish the lake and get some big ones.”

            Jim replied, “Yes, Fred told us to go into town and ask for directions to Indian Joe.  He has the boats for hire.”

            We did that and were soon at a dock with several boats in evidence.

            No Indian Joe.  The very attractive young woman that was there said she was Joe’s daughter. It was obvious that Indian meant Native American.

            She said, “Joe is off elsewhere today.  He leaves me to take care of business.  Do you fellows want a boat?”

            I said, “Yes, indeed. Boat, motor and fuel.”

            We paid the fees, got our gear from the car and climbed in the boat, ready to go catch lunkers, so we hoped.

Figure 7: The Type of Boat We Rented

            She said, “Fellows, my name is Mary.  There is a little town party tonight at the Grange Hall.  I will be there.  Why don’t you fellows come after your day of fishing Is over.  I would love to see you.”  She gave us a broad smile with the last statement.

            We spent the day fishing.  More Walleye, a few bass, one very nice pike and some smaller ones, but no Muskie.

Figure 8; We Had a Big Pike Like This.

            We returned the boat to the dock and headed back to camp to eat our Walleye.  That done we headed back to town for the party.

            We walked into the small hall.  It was packed.

            Mary saw us, ran over and said, “Hi guys.  I ‘m glad you came.  New faces liven up the party.  Beer is for sale over there.  Dancing will start shortly.  Oh, by the way, that is my dad over there.  Why don’t you go say hi.”

            We did just that, picking up some beers on the way.

            Joe said, “Hi boys.  Mary told me you had a good day today.  Are you going out tomorrow?” We all shook hands. 

            I said, “You bet we are.  Where can we go to find Muskie?”

            Joe said, “Everybody asks that question.  I wish I had a really good answer. There are one or two guys here in town that act as guides, but they are pretty pricy.”

            I said, “Yeah we don’t have money for that.”

            He said, “I will be at the dock in the morning.  I’ll point you in the right direction.”

            “Thank you.  See you then.   Back to the party for me.”

            I went back with Jim and Mike. Soon they seemed to be getting into the spirit.  It wasn’t long before Mike was out on the dance floor by himself doing what he thought was the Irish Jig.

            Mary came over to us and grabbed my hand.

            “Come with me.”, she said, seeming a bit tipsy.  I complied.

            We went out the back door.  She led me to a small gazebo.  When we got there, she grabbed me and kissed me passionately.  I responded with gusto. Before I knew it she grabbed my crotch.

            “Woah, Mary.”, I said.  “I would love to, but your dad is just over there, and I am a stranger in town.”

            “He doesn’t care.”, she said.

            “Maybe, but I am not going to take that chance.   He seems like a pretty tough dude to me.  Let’s go back inside.”

            She pouted but followed.  Back inside Mike was still going at it like a madman.

Mary drifted away.  I grabbed another beer and saw Indian Joe leaving.

“Hm.”. I thought, “Maybe now’s my chance.” I went looking for Mary.  She was gone. So was Jim.  “Damn.”

I grabbed another beer and went and sat down.  Soon Mike joined me, dripping sweat.

“I’ve had it.  Let’s get out of here.  I drank too much and danced too much.”

“We need to wait for Jim.  He went off with Mary.  I think he got lucky.”

We waited. A bit later, Jim and Mary showed up, holding hands and smiling broadly.

“Hey, Jim.  We need to get going.  Morning’s coming fast.”

He kissed Mary and said, “Let’s go.”

Jim did not respond to questions.  He just smiled.  Back to camp and into the sack-we were all exhausted.

Morning was too soon, but we managed our coffee and cold breakfast.  It was a lot later than yesterday when we finally got to the dock.

Joe pointed to the end of the lake and said, “Muskie like the warmer shallow water in the Spring.  Up at that end of the lake there is plenty of shallow water.  It is almost 3 miles from here.  I have put the extra gas can in the boat as well, just in case,”

“Terrific.”, I said.  “Thanks Joe.  Maybe we will be lucky today.”

Jim and Mike grumbled a bit, “Why do we have to go for Muskie and kill all that time going over there.  These Walleye are great, and they are nearby.”

“Oh, come on guys, you know we came to get Muskie. Fred told us they were almost a sure thing.”

“OK.”, they complied.

Three guys and gear in the boat and a small 3 horsepower motor did not make for speed.  It took us more than an hour to get in the general vicinity that Joe had pointed out.

We got our lures in the water in short order and spent the next 3- or 4-hours fishing.  Plenty of Walleye, occasional bass, some small pike, but no Muskie.

We decided to move to the other side of the bay we were on and get in shallower water.  Mike was handling the motor.  We got there and suddenly, crack-the motor blade hit something.  And the boat stopped moving even though the motor was running. 

Mike looked down in the water and said, “The propeller is not spinning.”

“Shit”, I said. “The shear pin broke to protect the propeller. There is no way we can fix that.  We are screwed.”

Jim asked, “Does that mean we have to somehow paddle back to the dock all three miles.”

“I’m afraid so. And we don’t have a God damn paddle.”, I exclaimed.

We broke the top off the tackle box and used that. We took turns in the bow with that.  The other two used hats to help out a little.  It was late afternoon when we got back to the dock.  Our fishing trip was over.

Mary was there. “Did you boys have trouble?”

We told her what happened.

“I can probably get that fixed for you in less than half an hour.  Do you want that?”

` “No.”, I said, “There is no way we can get out and back to the Muskie location.  We have caught plenty of Walleye.  It is only Muskie that we missed.”

“Well, come back in the Fall.  They come back to shallow water again.  I would love to see you boys again.”  With that she came over and gave all of us a kiss on the cheek and smiled deeply.

We headed back to camp, had our catch for supper, cleaned up, went to bed and drove home in the morning.

Well, I didn’t get my Muskie.   But I did get a very nice kiss and offer from a very attractive girl.

Strange Bedfellows

Trips abroad without adequate planning can often provide surprises.

         I learned on Wednesday that my wife and children were going to be gone the coming weekend.  I don’t remember what the reason was.

Immediately, I said to myself, “What am I going to do this weekend?”

The very next thought was, “Hey, this is a great opportunity to go to Costa Rica for some quick birding at La Selva Research Station.  I have not been able to get there on my prior trips. I can probably get a day and one half of birding if I leave on Friday afternoon and come back Sunday night.”

I was a very frequent flyer for business reasons, so I had accumulated a large number of frequent flyer miles on American Airlines.  Thus, I was usually able to get free tickets.  I immediately got on the phone with American and soon had arranged a flight leaving Washington to Miami late Friday afternoon.  That flight connected to a flight to San Jose, Costa Rica that got in late Friday night.  Coming home, there was an early afternoon flight on Sunday from San Jose to Miami that connected to a flight back to Washington getting me back early Monday morning. 

“Zowie!!”, I thought, “I can do this.”

Of course, the arrangements didn’t end there, but business needs took over and I did not get back at it until early Friday morning.  I was able to book a cheap room for late Friday night at the Casa Carmen, very near the airport.

Figure 1: Accommodation at Casa Carmen

            It was too late to get a rent-a-car for that night. I was able to book a car for early Saturday morning.  They agreed to deliver the car to Casa Carmen at 7:00 AM Saturday morning. 

            I then wanted to make reservations at La Selva or someplace nearby, but I ran out of time.  I had to get to the airport early because I had to go through passport control as well as check my bags.  I forgot which Washington airport I was leaving from.

            “Well.”, I thought, “I can take care of that when I get there.  There is accommodation at La Selva.”

            All went well.  I was up early Saturday morning and had a bit of breakfast.  My car arrived on time, and I was off to La Selva.  It was only a little more than 50 miles to La Selva.  Up over the mountain past Braulio Carillo NP and down the Atlantic slope into the lowland Atlantic rainforest.  It took almost 2 hours to get there.

            At last, La Selva (the jungle) Biological Station. La Selva Biological Station is a protected area of almost 4000 acres of low-land tropical rain forest in northeastern Costa Rica. It is owned and operated by the Organization for Tropical Studies, a consortium of universities and research institutions from the United States, Costa Rica, and Puerto Rico.

Figure 2: La Selva Biological Station

            It was a little after 9 when I entered the front office and inquired about a room for the night.

            The attendant said, “I am sorry, but we are completely booked for tonight.  We always get a lot of traffic on the weekends.”

            “Is there anywhere else nearby?”, I asked.

            “Oh, yes. There are hotels in town.  Should be no problem.”

            The town of Puerto Viejo de Sarapiquí was quite nearby.  That sounded good.  My guess was that the  town had 10 to 20 thousand people so there should be plenty of hotels.  This was the days before cellphones, but I had my trusty copy of Lonely Planet for Costa Rica.

            I had my target list of birds that I hoped to see, and it was starting to get hot.  I wanted to get out on the trails while the birds were still active.  So off I went in search of Bare-necked Umbrella Bird, Red-capped Manakin, Great Antshrike, and the Rufous-tailed Jacamar.   

Figure 3: Bare-necked Umbrellabird

            It was a great day birding.  I saw all my targets except Red-Capped Manakin, as well as lots and lots of other birds, many new to me  

Figure 4: Red-capped Manakin

            “Oh, well.”, I thought, “I’ll get it in the morning.”

            Off to town I went with my Lonely Planet.  I am not going to bore you with the details.  No luck.  Nothing was available.

            They told me, “People come down from San Jose for the weekend.  They want to get out of the city.  We are usually booked on the weekend. During the week we have plenty of vacancy.”

            Ouch.  It was getting dark.  I did not fancy driving back to San Jose over mountain roads in the dark.  Maybe I was going to be sleeping in the car, something I did not relish.

            Reluctantly, I headed back to San Jose.  About a half hour later, just as night was falling, I passed a youth hostel on the left side of the road.

Figure 5:Typical Costa Rican Youth Hostel

            “What have I got to lose?”, I thought.  I stopped, backed up,  and pulled in front of the place.

            There was a man in his late thirties sitting on the front porch.  I’ll call him Juan.

            “Sir, any chance I can get a place to sleep tonight?”

            Juan answered, “Well, you are sort of in luck.  I am the owner.  I come down from the city for the weekends.  All the communal bunks are occupied, but I have a bunkbed in my quarters and the top bunk is not spoken for.”

            “I’ll take it.”, I said without hesitation.  “Show me the way.  I am exhausted.”

            He said,” Please pay me first, and then I will take you there.”

            I handed him the cash and we headed inside.

            “Here it is.” he said, “The top bunk is yours.  You can take your gear out of the car and stick it in the corner”

Figure 6: My bed for the night

            I went and got my stuff from the car, took off the clothes that had jungle rot, climbed up into the top bunk, and was soon fast asleep.

            I awoke some time later, very groggy.  The whole bed frame was shaking.  As I became more awake, I began to hear grunting and groaning.  

            “Oh,”, I said to myself, “They are down there doing it.”  And as I said that it dawned on me that there were two men down there doing it.

With that I started to worry that they were going to come up to get at me.  As a generality, other people’s sexuality is their business and none of mine.  But I am not of that persuasion and don’t want to be.

They did not bother me.  They just went about their business and were soon asleep.  I don’t think I slept a wink the rest of the night.

The next morning, I found out that the owner came from San Jose on weekends specifically to meet his lover.  I was happy that he was happy.  It would have been nice if I had been warned.

Even though I was very tired, I went back to La Selva and was lucky enough to observe the Red-capped Manakin.

I then headed back to San Jose, caught my flight and was soon back home, exhausted.

What Is Important Anyway?

My elder son Arlo loved both outdoor adventures and intellectual adventures.

            In his 16th year he and I joined two other men for a fly-in canoeing, camping, and fishing adventure into the roadless wildness of Canada.  The next summer he signed up for an Outward-Bound adventure in Colorado that focused on hiking, mountain climbing, cliff climbing and camping.

            When it came time to go to college, he quickly focused on one and only one college-St. Johns in Annapolis, Maryland.  Most may not have heard of this St. John’s as it is very small Liberal Arts college (freshman class about 100).  However, it is the third oldest college in the USA (after Harvard and William & Mary) having been founded in 1696.

Figure 1: St. Johns College-Annapolis

The reason Arlo chose St. Johns was that it was very small and had only one curriculum-The Great Books Curriculum focused on the important ideas of Western civilization. It also attracted superior students, encouraged student discussion, and had small (about 20 students) intimate classes.  The one and only degree offered was a BA in Philosophy.  His mother and I thought it was an excellent choice.  He spent his freshmen year there and stayed for the summer.

I got a call from Arlo.  “Dad, I want to transfer to the Santa Fe, New Mexico campus of St. Johns.”

St. Johns opened a second campus in Santa Fe in 1964 to take the enrollment pressure off of Annapolis.  The curriculum had become popular, and they were getting way too many qualified candidates.   The same curriculum was taught in Santa Fe.

“Why do you want to transfer to Santa Fe, Arlo?” I asked.

“They have the same great curriculum there, but they also encourage a lot of outdoors activity.  In particular, the on-foot portion of the New Mexico search and rescue team is run out of the college.”

Santa Fe is located at the Southern terminus of the Rocky Mountains and is at an altitude of 7,000 feet.

Figure 2: Santa Fe, New Mexico

“Yes, dad.”, he said. “I can get a great education and also get into the mountains for climbing and supporting search and rescue.  I really like that idea.”

His mother and I could see no reason he couldn’t follow his dream.  The tuition was the same.  The issue was getting him there.  We did a road trip from Virginia to Santa Fe, all four of us.  It was great.

I also liked the idea of Santa Fe.  I did a lot of business in Albuquerque and sometimes Los Alamos.  On the freeway (I-25) the 65 miles only took about an hour. It actually took a bit longer to get to Annapolis from Northern Virginia. The trip to Los Alamos required passage through Santa Fe.

His sophomore year went well. He loved the great outdoors of New Mexico.

At the beginning of November of his Junior year, I had some business in Albuquerque.   I had convinced 3 different government agencies that it would be in their mutual interest to have a program to develop and test a special type of space hardware.  They were all convinced that this was a good idea, but bureaucratic prudence demanded that they have an independent technical review of the proposal.

The government brought together independent experts from the Army, Air Force, and the Tri-Service agencies.   The review was to take place at the Air Force Weapons Laboratory located at Kirtland Air Force Base in Albuquerque.

`Figure 3: Air Force Weapons Laboratory

The meeting was scheduled for 10:00.  I arrived at the gate at Kirtland with my compatriot Kenny from our Las Vegas office where the testing was to be done.  We were the two-man briefing team.  It happened to be the day of my birthday.  “Gotta fly with that.”, I thought.

We got to the briefing room in short order.  There was Sam representing the Army, and Jake from the Air Force.  We knew them well and were sure they were on our side.

“Hey Sam. Hey Jake.  How are you guys doing?”

“All is well, Ian.  I see you brought your buddy Kenny from Las Vegas.”, said Sam.

“That must mean you want to do some serious testing.”, said Jake.

“Yes indeed.”, said Kenny.  “Ian has laid out an end-to-end program.”

“Can’t wait to see it.” chimed in both Sam and Jake.

Out of the corner of my eye I caught a look at somebody else entering the room.  “Oh, shit.”, I thought.  “It is my arch-enemy Gus.”

The Tri-Services Agency used Gus as a technical consultant.  He was a former staff officer in the agency.  He now worked for a company that was a direct competitor to my company.  We were always butting heads.

Gus laughingly said, “Hello Sam and Jake.  Glad to see you again.  Are you ready to roast these guys.”

Both Sam and Jake nodded deferentially to Gus.

“Well, then.  Let’s get started.  What do you have for us Ian?”, Gus commanded.

These were the days before laptop computers.  My briefing was on viewgraphs.  Kenny went and took a seat, and I walked up to the viewgraph projector and put my title viewgraph up on the machine and turned it on.

As soon as I did that, Gus started. “That is the dumbest idea I have ever heard.  The data is not available to be able to perform anything like what you propose.”

I responded, “Yes, but collecting that data is the first task in this end-to-end plan.”

“Yes, Ian, but your company is not qualified enough to collect that data.  There are other companies better suited for that job.”

We never got further than my title slide.

Gus announced, “The Tri-Services Agency has let a contract to capture the data needed to do the program Ian wants to do.  There is no point going any further with this briefing.  It needs to wait until this data has been collected and that will be about 2 years from now.”

Sam and Jake both agreed, “Come back later.  Sorry.”

Gus got up and triumphantly sauntered out of the room.

The bastard was obviously talking about his own company.  The government had shared our plan with him, and his company had stolen the idea and convinced somebody back at the agency he used to work for to give them a contract to gather the data.  My sources in the agency later confirmed that his company had the contract.

I was devastated.  Some birthday present this was.  I had been working on selling this idea for almost a year.  It was a five-year program and was supposed to be a major source of support for my people.  Shit.

Kenny and I headed out.  Kenny said, “That son-of-a-bitch has done it again.  He has screwed me more than once as well.  Let’s go get a drink.”

“Sorry Kenny.  I don’t do that anymore.  Let’s get an early lunch.”

“Sorry, I forgot.  Yes, lunch.”

We went and had some lunch, and then Kenny took off.  I was left alone in my misery.  My management was going to chew my ass.

I had my binoculars in my briefcase.  I headed to the road leading to the tramway leading up to the Sandia Mountain that towers over Albuquerque.

Figure 4: Sandia Mountain in Albuquerque

            I parked, got out of my car, and wandered around the chaparral, but I just couldn't get into it.   I just couldn't stop feeling sorry for myself.  Even though it was a bit earlier than he and I had discussed, I decided to head to Santa Fe to see Arlo.

            I got on I-25 and headed North.  I was in Santa Fe in about an hour.  I eased into the foothills where the college is located.

Figure 5; St, Johns college Santa Fe

            I parked and headed to his dorm room, but nobody was there.  I wandered around the small campus a bit hoping I would run into him or his roommate.  No luck.  I headed to the cafeteria.  No luck.

            I was feeling pretty depressed at this point.  First a shit birthday present and now I can’t find Arlo.  But I finally got my head out of my nether regions and headed to the administration office.

            The lady at the front desk said, “Oh yes, I know where Arlo is.  He and his team just got back from a search and rescue mission.  They are going to have a post-mission debriefing in about 15 minutes.  Let me show you to the conference room.”

            She led me down the hall to a small conference room.  There were seats along the wall and a small table on the other side of the room.  On the other  side there also was a window facing the foothills.  I took a seat and waited.  A few other adults joined me.

            A short time later Arlo entered the room from the window side along with four other students and an older man who was obviously their leader.  The look on their faces was sober.

            The leader said, “The team had a very emotional day today.  They are here to talk about how they are feeling.  Please do not ask questions.  When all have had their time, you can get together with them one-on-one.”

            He continued, “The team went out early this morning in search of a man who did not return last night from climbing in the mountains.  His wife called us in.  The helicopter team thought they spotted him, but there was nowhere to land.  The team followed instructions from the helicopter team using walky-talkies.  They found the man at the bottom of a small cliff dead.  They fashioned a stretcher from small trees and jackets and brought him back to town.”

Figure 6: Makeshift stretcher

            Arlo was the first member of the team to speak.

            He said, “I now know why I transferred to Santa Fe.  I am humbled by being part of a team carrying out such important work.  My heart goes out to this man’s friends and family.”

            As he said this he began to cry.  And I began to cry.

            I was immediately out of my own woes.  Mine could be fixed.  This man’s couldn’t.  I am off doing work that is far less important than the work Arlo is doing.  It is an honor and privilege to be here.

            I hardly heard the offerings of the other team members.  Being self-centered again and thinking how lucky I am.

            When the debriefing was over, Arlo came over and we hugged and cried again.  We spent the rest of the day together in a way that felt very, very close to me.

            What is important anyway?

Postscript

            After a year of work, Gus’s company had made little progress with getting the important data.  The government came back to me and funded my original proposal.  You can read about that in the blog post named Last Tango in Nevada.