Excuse Me, Can Someone Direct Me to the Great Outdoors?
I have just finished listening to Bill Bryson’s book, The Life and Times of the Thunderbolt Kid, which is a memoir of his childhood growing up in the 50′s and 60′s in Des Moines, Iowa. That combined with a recent serious illness of one of my favorite teachers from high school really got me thinking about my own childhood, growing up in Raleigh, North Carolina, not quite middle America, but at the time a small Southern town with its own charm and quirks. It has since been invaded by Yankees (yes, Southerners still refer to them as Yankees, although it is usually preceded by a more colorful adjective) seeking better climate, cheaper living and a more relaxed atmosphere and has consequently lost a lot of its original appeal, but I digress.
I remember as a child of the 70′s and 80′s all of the pleasures and pains of being a kid, and now that I have a thirteen year old girl, cannot help but compare them to today’s world. I do not want to turn this into a typical my generation vs. their generation debate, but there are some startling differences in what our experiences were to what the child of today’s experiences seem to be.
One thing that I have noticed since starting this blog is that my most interesting stories involve some form of problem, pain, discomfort or mistake on our part. They also can involve some great pleasure or adventure. I have noticed that my memories of childhood are similar, in that, the ones that really stand out involve the same thing. We were a very outdoorsy bunch growing up. Don’t get me wrong, I loved watching TV and did more than my fair share of it. However, I also spent an inordinate amount of time outside investigating, playing, exploring, poking, prodding and generally up to no good. Some of my fondest memories are things that, at the time, were quite uncomfortable: a chipped tooth on a neighbor’s head playing football, being trapped in a tree house by a rabid opossum (at least in our minds it was quite rabid), the first time I ever got in an actual fist-fight, catching a gallon of gas on fire in the middle of the woods because we dropped lit firecrackers next to it by accident, and I could go on.
Taiwan – A (very) brief history for us Non-Asians or Why Taiwan and China do not get along
It is fairly well known here in the US that Taiwan does not really get along with its larger sister, China, but most of us do not really know why. The common belief is that Taiwan is a renegade province of China, trying to gain its independence, while China tries to hang on. This is far from the truth. Did you know that the reality is that Taiwan (or about half the Taiwanese at least) think that it is the mother country and China is the renegade? They believe that the true rulers of China reside in exile in Taiwan and it is only a matter of time before they return in triumph to take back control of their country. Taiwan is merely a temporary home for them.
You do not have to go very far back in history to understand this belief. During World War II, China was ruled by Chiang Kai Shek and Taiwan was a province of Japan. The Taiwanese citizens had a choice to be considered Japanese citizens or to remain Taiwanese, but either way, they were treated well by the Japanese. The Chinese, however, were ruled with an iron hand by Chiang and they rebelled. Because Chiang was an ally of the US during the war, most US citizens do not know the brutality with which he ruled, but some would compare him to Stalin or even Hitler. During this period, Mao Tse Tung successfully converted enough of his countrymen to Communism that they were able to drive Chiang and his close followers further and further south, until he was forced to ask Taiwan for refuge. Taiwan does have older ties to China and being the kind and trusting people that they are, invited Chiang and his army into their country. It was not long before he took over and made himself the permanent President, declaring martial law and foregoing any proper elections.
As you can imagine, there was quite a bit of unrest amongst the Taiwanese who had so generously offered up refuge for their brothers. One example of a bone of contention that caused a stir was the fact that Chinese do not have a problem with eating dogs and cats, whereas the Taiwanese keep dogs and cats as pets. I am sure you can imagine the outrage when people’s pets began disappearing and ended up in their neighbor’s crock pots.
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Sara and I had been together for almost two years when my stepfather gave us a wonderful Christmas present. He offered to take the two of us and my daughter, Mackenzie, along with my mother and the rest of his family to the Atlantis resort in the Bahamas for Spring Break. Needless to say, we were very excited. We had been on several trips together up to this point, but nothing this luxurious. Normally we get very involved in the planning of the trip, but both Sara and I were busy with work and everything here was already planned for us. All we had to do was to show up, play in the pools, bask in the sun and eat in the many fine restaurants at the resort. Living in San Diego, we had been to Mexico several times for camping, or just a nice lobster dinner, so we were very familiar with traveling so close to the U.S. and not really concerned with anything more than packing the night before we left.
Our flight to the Bahamas was a red-eye from San Diego, with a layover in Atlanta, departing at 10 pm and arriving in sunny Atlantis around noon. This was my then four year old daughter’s first trip out of the country and I was nervous as to how she would handle the long flight. To help her sleep and to prevent any potential air sickness, we decided to give her Dramamine.
We arrived at the airline counter in San Diego with plenty of time to spare and proceeded to check in. Both of our jaws dropped when the airline attendant asked for our passports. “But we go to Mexico all the time without passports. Surely we can go to the Bahamas.” Alas, no. This was post 9/11, and they were very strict about requiring a passport both to get into the Bahamas and to return to the U.S.
The biggest mistake we made, however, was one that occurred a few years earlier. I was in the Navy when my ex and I had my daughter Mackenzie. We were living in Virginia Beach, Virginia at the time and when she was born, the Naval Hospital in Portsmouth issued us a ‘Record of Birth’ in lieu of a Birth Certificate. We were told that we would need to write to the office in Richmond that handled Birth Certificates in order to get a copy of Mackenzie’s. Of course, that never happened. Not very important, until it was made clear to us that Mackenzie needed either a passport or a Birth Certificate to get back into the country. We had neither.
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