Our Bomber Boy

I've been fortunate to find a lot of information about Granddad's service during World War II. I've found so much information that I'm a bit overwhelmed and happy to finally commit it to written word.

As the US entered the war, there was an intense debate about the ability of heavy bombers. The outcome produced a dangerous over-confidence: heavily-armed bombers on daylight precision bombing missions could penetrate any defense without the support of long-range escort fighters. Unfortunately for thousands and thousands of men this assertion was wildly incorrect.

US Bomber aircraft, left to their own defenses, were easy targets for flack gunners and the German Messerschmitts. Knowing the likelihood of not returning to base from any one mission was understandably debilitating for the bomber crews. As morale became a larger issue, the USAAF leadership instated a 25 mission rule: once an airmen flew 25 combat missions, he was cleared to go home. The number was later raised to 30 and then 35.

I mention this because Mom requested and recieved Granddad's official military record from the Gov. I don't think we were expecting full disclosure (which is good, because we didn't get it) but we did learn that Granddad flew 31 combat missions (!) during the bloodiest period of the war for American heavy bombers. I'll have to double check the dates on those changes…conceivably; granddad was in overtime when he was shot down!?

I never thought the key that would unlock the most information about WWII Granddad was his plane. Granddad was a Navigator aboard B-17 aircraft #41-24352.   Navigators were officers which made Granddad a Lieutenant and third in command aboard his aircraft.  The B-17F Flying Fortress was assigned and delivered to granddad and crew (a.k.a. the 352^nd squadron of the 301^st bombardment group of the 8th Air Force) at RAF Chelveston in July, 1942.  Granddad flew his first 5 missions with the 8th Air Force.

 

The relationship between crew and plane didn't start out so well. In August, '42 aircraft #41-24352 made an emergency landing at an unfinished Earls Colne Airfield in Essex, England.  Be sure to check-out the Wikipedia link for Earls Colne. In the last paragraph of the Origins section, look for Granddad's plane #. J Fortunately, the relationship later improved.

Matthew found how aircraft #41-24352 eventually became the Holey Joe.  The story below and the location of Earls Colne seem to make sense.  Dover, England is 70 miles Southeast of Essex, England.

"The plane earned its nickname during a raid on Lille, after which the bomber had to make an emergency landing at an airstrip near the Cliffs of Dover with two dead engines and two wounded crew. After surveying the damage their ship had absorbed, one of the crew exclaimed, "Holey Joe!" The name stuck."

In the following picture, A is Essex; B is Dover; and C is Lille.  Other crews flew the Holey Joe but the primary crew was granddad and team.

301bg.com is a website that does a better job of documenting the history of the 301^st Bomb Group than any other source. The site has details about many of the missions flown by the group. I was able to find flight information for three of granddad's combat missions. How's this for surreal? 1, 2, 3. Or:

  

It looks like his regular crew consisted of James Hair (Pilot), Lonnie Miers (Co-Pilot), Emmet Cook (Bombardier), Louis Patriquin, William Garratt, Woolsey, Robert Doremus, Andrew Seaman, and Douglas Upton.  We understand that Granddad and Emmet were close friends.

In November, 1942 Granddad and crew were transferred to North Africa to join Operation Torch under the command of General Doolittle.  On March 22, 1943, Granddad's 26th birthday, the day's target was the harbor at Palermo, Italy.  On that day the Holey Joe had been grounded due to mechanical problems. Instead, they were flying Junior, a newer plane that had been assigned only one month earlier to the squadron based at Ain M'Lila Airfield in Algeria.

At top speed, the B-17F moved just about 300 miles per hour.  Palermo is 401 miles from Ain M'Lila.  Once unleashed, it would have taken Junior and crew certainly no more than 90 minutes to reach their destination.

I wonder if the crew celebrated birthdays?  Probably.  Had they hit the bars the night before? Probably not.  Were they planning an extra celebration for that night? I don't think bomber boys planned beyond the next mission.  Did anyone say, "Happy Birthday, Yonych, we got you a new plane?"

During the raid, Junior was hit by flack and broke apart.  Granddad never talked about it. Any of it. We found a couple of descriptions from Emmet Cook's family members. Here's the first one:

"I was shot down on my 32nd mission, over Palermo, Sicily," Emmet said. "We were hit by flak between the number 2 engine and the fuselage and the fuel tank caught fire. I pulled the emergency release cable that was supposed to pull out the lower hatch door's hinge pins, but it wouldn't budge. I then released the regular latch and stood on the door, trying to use my weight to push it open and I got it open, but because of the force of the slipstream, it didn't open far enough for me to get out. At that moment, the wing burned off and the plane went into a spin. I was pinned against the deck and the plane exploded and I found myself out in the air. Five of the crew didn't make it out."

And the second one:

The day's mission was a raid on the harbor at Palermo Italy. Emmet said, "Our crew was with the 352d Squadron of the 301st Bomb Group flying out of North Africa. [The raid] on shipping at the Palermo, Sicily Harbor...was my 32nd mission. Several ammo ships were blown out of the harbor."

Junior and several of her crew would not survive the raid on Palermo. The B-17 was hit by flak. The bomber's left wing caught fire and eventually tore-off, sending the plane into a spin. Five men including the pilot, co-pilot, engineer, radio operator and ball turret gunner were trapped and perished in the crash.

Both Emmet and Granddad were captured after being shot down and detained by the Germans at Stalag Luft III in Zagan, Poland. He was held captive for over two years.

Mom says that Granddad didn't directly participate in the great escape, but he did contribute bed slats that were used to reinforce the tunnels.  These pictures were taken approximately one month after being shot down and captured. They came from the second link of Emmet's above. Can you see Granddad?

…answer: he's on the far right in the first picture. Emmet is on the far left. I'm the only one that thinks he's in the second picture: fourth person from the right with his hands on hips.  As a sidenote, I've learned that Stalag Luft III is probably less than 500 miles from the birthplaces of both Granddad's parents.

On January 27, 1945, the Allied forces were closing-in on Stalag Luft III and Hitler ordered that those detainees be moved to Moosburg. They were moved by foot over 80 miles during a blizzard before being loaded onto trains for the remainder of journey. The trip took over a week. ...one of many horrible memories that Granddad bared silently.  Granddad and the other POWs were eventually liberated by General George S. Patton (Granddad was proud of this).  Among other medals, he was awarded the Air Medal and Oak Leaf Cluster.


EDIT: I got a comment from Aunt Gerry this afternoon that I'd like to attach to this post:

DAVID - didn't know writing/blogging was one of your many talents!!! Really enjoyed reading about your research on the Yonyches - the crew records show two other friends of Grandad and Grammy (she met them at the POW reunions) - Doug Upton and Ned Woolsey. Also - Grandad did know that Mama and Papa came from towns that were "close" to each other so although 100 miles sounds far to me - he thought it interesting that they could have met back in the old country (possibly) if they hadn't migrated to the USA. Thanks for researching & sharing with us all. Love you! Gerry

Just for the record, I have a remarkably short list of talents.  Thank you for the comment and the contribution!  ...without some reaction from my readers(?), blogging feels awefully lonesome.

Wasyl & Maria

Following Granddad's funeral, I came home with a newfound interest in my genealogy. A few clicks around Ancestry.com only fueled my fascination. It didn't take long before I had completed the family tree to the level of my immediate great grandparents. In total, I've gone back as far as 1812 on my father's side. On my mother's side, I'm limited by the families' more recent immigration to the US. Nonetheless, I can track my lineage through my mom back to the second half of the 1800's.

Considering the source of this interest, it's no surprise that I shortly found my way into one of the thickest books I've ever read, Masters of the Air by Donald Miller. Certainly a healthy dose of appreciation is due to both Miller and Ancestry.com. Then again, I pay for both…so let's call it even.

I didn't know very much about pre D-day (David-day) Granddad Yonych: farm hand, navigator, POW, swimmer, won't go to bed hungry, rumors of a legendary temper (although I was never in his crosshairs), married for life, and only a handful of other things. Enter Ancestry.com…

Born in 1917, Granddad was one of 5 siblings born to Wasyl Janecz and Maria Sobecka. Wasyl and Maria immigrated from Central Europe to the US. Wasyl arrived in New York on August 6, 1913 from Cuxhaven, Germany at age 28. Maria arrived in New York on May 31, 1914 from Hamburg, Austria at age 19.  During this period, the geo-politicol temperature of the region was certainly "hot".  Archduke Franz Ferdinand was assassinated on June 28, 1914 officially signalling the start of World War I.  I can imagine that inhabitants of the region could sense the build-up of tension.  I wonder if Maria and Wasyl were fleeing the region to escape the impending doom?

On May 21^st, 1914 Maria Sobecka departed Hamburg, Germany aboard the Kaiserin Auguste Victoria. Her hometown is listed as Litowicz, Austria. However, my intelligence team tells me that is incorrect.  Maria was born in Brody, Ukraine.  Hamburg is 820 miles away from Brody which is 560 miles away from Stalag Luft III. Traveling in fourth class, steerage, she arrived at Ellis Island ten days later. Here is her passenger record from the Ellis Island Foundation. This is a useful reference because you can clearly see her arrival information and the ship manifest. Maria was single when she arrived. She lists 'agricultural day laborer' as her occupation on the Hamburg Passenger Lists of 1850-1934. Here's a picture on file of the Kaiserin Auguste Victoria. The ship was later the subject of an unfortunate retirement in approximately 1930. Lots more pictures and information about this ship can be found by searching for ship Kaiserin Auguste Victoria.

The New York Passenger Lists, 1820 – 1957 shows that Maria was detained upon entry to the US. This was fairly common for women traveling without men. "These women could not be admitted without assurance that someone would care for and protect them." The record shows that she was detained with her cousin (Tekla Bojoun) for a short period of time. Comparing the number of meals served to Tekla and Maria makes me think that Tekla was detained for a slightly longer period than Maria. Alternately, she might have lost her appetite or been ill…your guess is as good as mine. As best I can determine, they were only detained for one night:

1. Tekla was served only one dinner and one breakfast
2. I've seen both 5/6 and 5/7 recorded as Maria's date of arrival at Ellis Island.  Perhaps Maria arrived on 5/6 and cleared immigration on 5/7.

On the other hand, perhaps it's just a convenient reconciliation. At the end of the day, both Maria and Tekla were en route to Maria's sister, Anna Sobecka. Anna's, address is listed as 128 Ridge St, New York, NY. Interestingly enough, mom recalls that Granddad grew up on Ridge Street. Presumably, Wasyl and Maria settled within walking distance of one another. I don't know for certain, but this might be the building where Granddad spent some (or most) of his childhood. Here's what it looks like today.

Wasyl Janecz boarded the Imperator in Cuxhaven, Germany on July 30, 1913. The manifest shows Wasyl's hometown to be Rameuka (?).  However, Granddad has gone on record saying that Wasyl was born in Rava-Russkaya.  Based on Granddad's testimony, Wasyl and Maria were born only 100 miles apart.  Like Maria and Tekla, Wasyl passed through Ellis Island. His passenger records can be found here. Wasyl was one of the first passengers aboard the Imperator. Its maiden voyage was June 20, 1913. More images of the ship, interior and exterior, can be found here.

The ships manifest, New York Passenger Lists, 1820-1957, shows that he traveled in the steerage class, was in good health, 5' 6" tall, arrived with $45, and was…married? But married to whom? Let the scandal begin! J I've found two sources that say Wasyl was married upon arrival at Ellis Island: The New York Passenger List and the Ellis Island Passenger Record.

Here's where it gets even more interesting. In this image from the aforementioned manifest; what do those two highlighted words say? Is the first word wife? And is the second word Tekla? Could the third word on the same line be the (in)correct or alternate spelling for Boujon?

Whatever the mystery, it'll remain secret now. I can't find any more information about Tekla and the 1930 US Census shows that Mary and William married and are the parents of granddad. I also see that, by 1930, Wasyl and Maria did their best to Americanize themselves: Wasyl became William and Janecz became Yonych.

***** Update - 6/29/2012 *****

While I was on Ellis Island, the folks in the library straightened me out (a little bit).  Turns out that the writer just got the lines mixed-up.  They wrote Wasyl's information on the entry above and vice versa.

The column header reads, "The name and complete address of the nearest relative or friend in country from whence alien came."  For Wasyl, the information reads, "brother: Alecksy Janecz, Rameuka."  The passengers name that is listed above Wasyl reads Nikolay Bochauka.  Presumably, this is the husband of Tekla (the woman who Maria was traveling with).

Boston in Winter

And just like that, winter has arrived.

Part of the fun of living in Boston is getting to know the city.  I learned a few things about Boston over the last couple of days.

1. Boston roads get WAY more love from the plows than any road in the burbs. 
2. if you are an out-of-towner or don't own ice skates, then you visit the frog pond (in all of its glory) during operating hours.  BUT, if you're a true Bostonian, then you own your skates (duh) and, once the sun goes down, you head over to the pond at the Public Gardens to skate on the naturally chilled ice.
3. the snow cloud layer traps the light from the city.  Nighttime during a snow storm is curiously bright.
4. the snow absorbs a lot of the Boston noise leaving making room for sounds that are typically drowned out.  That's nothing new...but, the only consistent sound through the Boston streets was the sound of the blizzardy winds hitting and deflecting around the John Hancock Tower.  It was like a passenger jet heard from the same distance.  ...really kinda spooky.  You can't help but hope the engineers designed for blizzardy wind loads.

We Got an Upgrade.

Everyone once in a while, the stars align and we get lucky beyond our expectations.  This weekend, we got an upgrade! 

That’s Milah to You

It might not be a big deal to most people, but I'm pumped because I completed the Harwich Cranberry Harvest Half Marathon and 7.3 Mile race. Or if you speak New English, it's the Harwich Cranberry Harvest Half Marathon and 7.3 Milah. Not just did I finish, but I came in 4^th place…well, in my weight class. So what if the 3 guys that beat me averaged 4 years older than me? I'm concentrating on how badly I crushed that 25 year olds time! Eat it, Hightower.

When I got into the office this morning, someone on the team was looking for Tower projects and it gave me an excuse to jump into my old designs. It's been a while since I looked at these but was happy with what I found. I uploaded a bunch of renderings for these projects to share (look on the left hand side). Here are some of my favorite images.

Dept. of Little Things: TV Programming

Are you on the lookout for the little things? I'm confident that this 'little thing' will elude about half of my readers. But oh, it is sweet.

This is a busy weekend for road races and walks for charity in Boston. Wifey and I ran the Somerville Homeless Coalition 5k this morning and are resting for our Cranberry Bog 10k tomorrow. I'm hanging-out in the front room by myself right now while my better half and dingo naps in the bedroom. That's right, taxpayers! That means that I get both the A and B channel! There's a lot of good television on right now and I'd like to highlight one particularly good patch of consecutive channels:

804: Tennessee at LSU

805: Oklahoma at Texas

806: Yankees at Red Sox

807: Ryder Cup Golf

Red Sox Update (middle of the 3^rd): It's time to pull Wakefield.

My Wish for This Pot

Last Christmas, I was gifted a Wishing Pot. Today, the wish became a reality. Unfortunately, the wish belonged to someone else.

There Goes My Wisdom

As of 5:35pm EDT last night, my upper wisdom teeth have been removed. Here are two things that I've learned from the experience:

• The technical term for getting teeth removed from one's skull is extracted. For an inexplicable reason, this pisses me off.
• Those in the profession refer to upper wisdom teeth as numbers 1 and 16 (…at least that's what the liability release form said).

A memory from the banks of my youth:

I can remember my parents joking with the children about the barbaric act of picking crabs. It went something like this, "If aliens came into this room right now and saw us eating these crabs, they'd turn around and run for their lives. Apparently, these crabbies legs weren't quite long enough to get them away…" It always punctuated with whack, crack, delight.

Why is this relevant? Because extracting teeth reminds me of whackin' crabs. I trust that the world of medicine has undergone profound advancements and achievements during recent decades. But you wouldn't guess that by witnessing an extraction. As for the experience, never open your eyes during the procedure!

Step 0: Waiting Room

An extraction is one of those procedures where you need someone else to drive you home. Now that I'm hitched, this sounds like an excellent job for my wife. It was, except that she was having a great time. She couldn't stop smiling. Before. During. After. Someone at work said, "Welcome to marriage."

Step 1: Legal Documentation

What am I getting into? The document that I'm supposed to sign is clearly the photocopy of a document that was originally produced with a typewriter. This was not a copy of the original document. Nope. Not even close. This was a photocopy of another patients release form! How did I know? The photocopy machine picked up the texture of the painted-on whiteout.

I was surprised to note that the document only requires the dentist to manually scribble which teeth are coming out. I know that this might not sound odd but I would feel better if there were at least a diagram.

Step 2: Local Anesthetics

Why haven't we invented a better mechanism for delivering fluid into a targeted area of the body?

Step 3: Extraction

This is when I made the mistake of opening my eyes. When I did, I saw the device that is used to extract the tooth. It's not a huge deal unless you see it going into your mouth. This device is archaic and felt like the key to using it is leverage and a fulcrum. The first tooth came out rather easily. We were only two minutes into the procedure when the good doctor tapped me on the shoulder and said, "The first one's out." The second tooth was less willing. It required some drilling and seemed like it came out in pieces. Two specific things crossed my mind over and over during this part of the procedure: I didn't know my mouth could open that wide and that crunching sound can't be good.

Step 4: Immediate Aftercare

Wifey is good to me.

Step 5: Healing

I heart milk shakes but am ready for solid food. I've been on the sidelines at meals for less than 24 hours and am already craving pizza. My face is swollen and lopsided. The side with the difficult tooth is much bigger than the other. I look adorable.

Having teeth pulled sucks. But I'm glad that they're out and I'm on the mend. Apparently it's OK to take the following day off from work to recover…I, however, did not do this. There was surprisingly little blood. I think more blood came out after the surgery than during. Teeth feel much bigger than they really are.
Parents pierce their daughter's earlobes at a young age so that they don't remember the experience (read pain). I wonder why not expand this concept to include wisdom teeth? …who knows maybe they don't exist until later in life.

Millsabatical

There are few things that distinguish one company’s compensation package from another.  At my company, there are two:

· Employee Stock Purchase Plan and

· Sabbatical

The ESPP is like free money, so it’s easy to appreciate (especially when the stock is up over 150% in 19 months).  The sabbatical, on the other hand, deserves expansion.

First, a lesson in sabbatical vocabulary (well, those terms that comes to mind right now)

Sabbatitude: an ebbing of motivation and effort by employees as evidenced by indifference, complacency, and decreased motivation in the period preceding one’s sabbatical.

Escape Velocity: the minimum velocity required to escape the gravitational clutch or call of the office by e-mail, phone, or otherwise

Sabbatage: An incident or event that interferes with or otherwise keeps one from reaching escape velocity

Re-entry: the re-penetration of the offices atmosphere by one who has been on sabbatical

Sabbaticool: something cool that happens that one would not have otherwise been privy to

There are generally three different reactions from those who have taken sabbatical.

Reaction 1: I had a great time, but I was starting to get bored towards the end.  I am kinda glad that I’ve gone back to work.

Analysis: This is a clear sign of a poorly executed sabbatical.  The root of this problem usually stems from an inability to fill the 6 weeks with enough balance of fulfilling and relaxing events.

For example: “I took sabbatical during summer to spend the whole time with my kids.”  Or, “I stayed at home the whole time.”

Reaction 2: Sabbatical is heaven.  I wish sabbatical were permanent.

Analysis: You have the wrong job.  Seek counsel from Dr. HotJobs.

For example: “As humans, we weren’t made to sit at a desk for 10 hours a day.”

Reaction 3: I’m content with my time off and prepared to head back to the office.  

Analysis: this is the Zen zone for sabbatical goers.  This requires good sabbatical planning and execution.  Only those who are truly one with sabbatical can achieve this level of self actualization.

For example: “I’m satisfied with the things I did.”  Or, “I’m recharged and ready to take-on the next task at hand.”

I reach the sabbatical Zen zone.  I did a lot of things but not too much.  We spent time in the city and balanced it with time at the beach.  We spent time in wine country and balanced it with time at home.  We watched a lot of the World Cup and balanced it with a lot of reading.  We had a wedding and balanced it with a long honeymoon.  We found a new place to live and balanced it with a lot of local activities.  …and the list goes on.  Now for the best news of all!  …only 27 months until the next one!

Renting Has its Advantages

…this ol' house has been around since 1900. Considering its age, it's certainly entitled to have a couple of bad days. Unfortunately, today was a bad day. Here's the story:

Poor poor house. It turns out that both the drain and vent (? yeah, both) have clogged repeatedly, ruptured, and turned into a giant rain cloud whenever the upstairs neighbors use the dishwasher or washing machine. 24 hours later, the pipe's been replaced and we're left with a 7' x 10" hole that runs from the countertop to the ceiling. Still, on its better days, it's a fine place to call home.

What’s an Orbit Worth?

The calendar says that I've been kickin' around for some 30+ worldly orbits. I've never looked forward to any single orbit like I have this one. 2010 is a personally exciting one for loads o' reasons…and one of them showed up on my doorstep this week. And here it is; a wonderful piece of tangible affirmation that, technically, allows me to put three little initials in my e-signature (MBA). …don't worry, no matter what the initials, I'll never ascend to that type of vanity.

It represents several years of juggling one of the more demanding marketing jobs in existence (…conservative estimate), a too long courtship of wife-2-be, and the additional rigors of life. Here's a list of the courses. Some contain fonder memories than others. My favorite courses were the ones that delivered strong personalities, passionate debate, and a wide range of perspectives. On the other hand, nothing was more aggravating than the quiet person(s) in class. Strong opinions drew me to Finance but the 'art of the deal' drew me to M&A. Few professions offer such a strong (and measurable) mix of art and science.

1. Principles of Accounting
2. Management People in Organizations
3. Statistics
4. Principles of Economics
5. Marketing Management
6. Operations Management
7. Negotiating
8. Global Corporate Strategy
9. Relationship Management
10. Strategic Information Fundamentals
11. Leadership and Corporate Responsibility
12. Business Process Management
13. International Business Law
14. Argumentation Strategies for Business
15. Corporate Finance: Theory, Tools and Concepts
16. Short-term Financial Management
17. Corporate Finance: Applications and Advanced Topics
18. Mergers and Acquisitions
19. International Financial Management

…and some of the reading. By no means is this all inclusive but it's all that I could get my hands during a commercial break.

People often remark that the biggest takeaways from school aren't those on the syllabus. I've never found Finance (etc) very difficult, it just requires time and attention. Now that I've completed the Masters, I've become the beneficiary of my own time – it's tough to appreciate it until you don't have it. Now, I find that I can accomplish more in a shorter amount of time than I ever thought I could. I've also gained the perspective and appreciation for 'just how hairy the beast is.' I could go on (balance, confidence, insight, blah blah blah), but instead, I'll reward you for reading this far. J Fin.

For Once, A Victory

For those of you that know women…..and I mean REALLY know women….you have to understand the art of shopping.  Or maybe it’s the understanding of the love of shopping.  Or ….perhaps the art of spending money in the name of shopping?  Hmmm…. Well in any event, I’m getting a little off subject.

Once upon a time, a young girl fantasized about her dream wedding.  Scratch the DJ record and move forward 25 years, and now this same girl realizes that every wedding fantasy comes at a cost.  Whether the cost is minimal or grand, it’s always an ADDITIONAL cost.  I have begun to realize that maybe it’s true when they say nothing in life is for free … but I know for a darn tootin’ fact that NOTHING (and I mean NOTHING) in the wedding industry is for free. 

This being said, the young girl inside of me still wants the dream fantasy wedding.  Which, much to my hubby-to-be’s shagrin, usually means ANOTHER cost. Since the beginning of the wedding planning, I have heard many things come out of my hubby-to-be’s mouth such as:

“That costs HOW much?!?!”

“Do we really need _______________________??!?!”

“You really need to watch the budget.”

“Can you fill out the Excel spreadsheet to see if that cost fits within the allotted budget.”

So, I guess this now ties in my intro paragraph.  When a woman sees something she REALLY wants (okay, maybe she just thinks she REALLY wants it) and has her heart set on it … the above questions are like a stab in the shopping bag.

SOOOOOOO…..this brings me to the day in question.  

Saturday, March 27, 2010. A beautiful, sunny yet crisp day.  

It was the day that has been designated in our Outlook calendars as “WEDDING BAND SHOPPING WEEKEND.”  And no, not the wedding band as in music (as my hubby-to-be thought originally), but rather the ball and chain symbol that remains on your finger for life shopping event.

The day started out with grumpy hubby-to-be.  I wanted to be the very first in the store as it was a SALE weekend for wedding bands!  Hubby-to-be wanted to remain in bed snoozing with the young puppy for as long as possible.  

Finally, he dragged himself out of bed but NEVER FEAR ladies … NOT without the dreaded “b” word!!!

Hubby-to-be getting out of bed: “You know when we go shopping today, you really need to check yourself with the budget before you agree to anything.”

“If you get anything custom-made, it’s coming out of your own pocket.”

“Make sure you think of the BUDGET.”

Sigh.  Words of love.  SWOON.

So, OFF WE WENT!

Needless to say, swarms of people arrived at the same time we did.  And I mean swarms. If you are like us and have never experienced a jewelry store being crowded, it was a bit overwhelming.

We were the second inside the store and off we went in search of the eternal ball and chain symbol!

ONE HOUR AND 10 MINUTES.

That’s the amount of time to search for, purchase and sign for the rings.

HUBBY’S TIME FINDING/PURCHASING A RING – 1 HOUR AND 5 MINUTES

MY TIME FINDING/PURCHASING A RING – 5 MINUTES.

Shall I say (ahem!) someone (and not me) is the prima donna of the relationship!?!?!

Anywhooo…..to make a long story short, hubby-to-be chose a ring that was MORE EXPENSIVE than the one I chose.

Yes, my friends. A whole gob-smacking, lip-licking $50 more expensive.

Now, you may think “Well, $50 is not all that much.”

Well, if you are thinking that  … THINK AGAIN.   That $50 has shuddered all of the dreaded “B” comments …. That $50 has caused me so much peace and tranquility for the weekend that I feel as though I’m at a spa in Palm Springs.

They say marriage is a compromise.  I agree … but I also say that a $50 difference that swings in your favor is PRICELESS.

Saturday, March 27, 2010.   A day that will remain forever in our wedding history books.  A victory for perhaps not all women, but this one in particular.  A day that should be on the Mastercard commercial because this day indeed was priceless.

A Very Happy Birthday for Me

Except for the 'plus 1 year' impact that birthdays have, they're almost always fun…ESPECIALLY when my wife-2-be is the one responsible for planning.

My birthday often (but not always) coincides with the Christmas break. This was one of those unfortunate years where my b-day signifies the first day back from the Christmas break. This year, Ali asked me to take an additional 3 days of vacation so that we could properly celebrate the big day. Given this request, I was guessing that this birthday may bring a gift that required travel. A million thoughts raced through my mind: Where could it be? Local? Overseas? What would be the attraction? Skiing? Beaches? Overseas? It can't be too extravagant…after all, we've got a wedding to pay for!

Ali's not very good at keeping big secrets, but she did a very good job of keeping this one. The real genius of the surprise came with only 48 hours remaining in my twenties. On Saturday, Ali gave me my first gift: a tourists driving guide to New England. What a great piece of deception?! First, I've wanted to spend more time exploring New England and second, it was a relatively inexpensive gift for us. I won't lie, I was just a little disappointed to think that I had taken off 3 days for a drive through Vermont.

Being officially thrown off the trail, I went to bed a little bitter. With only 24 hours left in my twenties, my luck significantly improved. It started with breakfast in bed. The menu consisted of bacon, eggs, and a pancake message that read, "Pack your bags." No, Vermont and its wonderful cheddar cheese was not the destination…we were Captiva bound!

We landed at Fort Meyers in the wake of climate gate. Without a doubt, this winter has dealt a blow to proponents of the global warming debate. Captiva is 26.3 degrees north latitude. The average high/low temperatures in January are 74/54. While we were there, the temperature did not rise above 54 degrees. Let's just say that it wasn't beach weather. BUT, the temp was still twice as high as the temperatures Boston…and we're not afraid of a little chill. I played golf every day; we walked the beach, found a whole sand dollar, and had drinks on the beach at the Mucky Duck.

   

Captiva is an hour away from the airport at Fort Meyers. Given the distance, we rented a car…but not just any car, Wifey surprised me with a Corvette ZHZ (a.k.a. Lola). One might guess that a Hertz edition 'vette would be a bit lacking in the muscle department, but that just isn't the case. Modern amenities like keyless entry and start are paired with 460 angry horses. Very nice. When you're behind the wheel of that much power every straightaway, corner, and green light begs for the driver to let 'er rip. 0 to 80 is a picnic for Lola. Within 5 minutes of leaving the airport, we found a Saleen Mustang… J 45 minutes later we found a Viper… J I might have to get me one of these. On the return trip to the airport we got caught in traffic next to a mom and her young son. We didn't really understand why he was laughing, smiling, and pointing at us. The mother eventually rolled down the window and told us that he thought our car was Bumble Bee from the Transformers movie. I smiled back at him, winked, and made him promise not to tell anyone.

Harbourside Bar & Grill

By the time we arrived, we were rather tired. We opted to have dinner at the closest restaurant on the resort. I had scallops and Wifey had steak. The scallops were incredible – by far the best scallops that we had during the whole trip.

  

Famous Dave's BBQ

Perhaps the best BBQ of my life – way better than Smokey Pig. I feel like I've graduated to a new level of BBQ and learned new criteria for judging BBQ. The secret? Ask them to show you their trophies. Barbecued shrimp wrapped in bacon is a local attraction in and of itself. By far, Dave's had the best – yeah, they tasted the best but they don't skimp on the quantity either. Ali had a burger with pulled pork and bacon. I had a sampler with beef brisket, pork ribs, and chicken wings.

   

Mucky Duck

We really enjoyed eating and hanging out at the Mucky Duck. We probably had 3 meals there. Our favorite item was a chicken soup that wasn't on the menu. We were at the bar waiting for a table and started talking to the owner. He moved to Captiva (from Boston) a bunch of years ago. He whipped-up a chicken soup for the staff and offered some to us too. It was creamy (but not too creamy) and all around delicious. If you ever find yourself at this restaurant, let it be known that the waitresses like to play jokes on unsuspecting patrons. For example, they squeezed fake ketchup on me and fake-spilled coffee on numerous other suckers. They also have a window on wheels that they put between loud tables. Unfortunately, I don't fully grasp the intention of this prop.

In a weird twist of fate, Momma Dukes was vacationing 10 miles away from us in Sanibel. We weren't able to connect while we were all in FL. It's only now that I realize how dangerous the conversation during Christmas dinner about Mom's FL vacation plans was.