Home again, home again

Well I arrived back in Trinidad at 12:35 AM on August 30, 2008.

The three-and-a-half-hours Spirit Airline flight out of Ft. Lauderdale, Florida was smooth and uneventful. I cleared immigration and customs in less than 30 minutes and walked outside the arrival terminal to wait for a ride home from my brother-in-law.

I had just walked outside and about to light a cigarette when I heard a voice behind me, “You need a taxi?”

As I turned to say I was waiting for my brother-in-law, I saw a smiling Bharose, who had just arrived and parked across the street as I was walking out the building. In the parked car was my niece Daniella, also my god-daughter.

I was glad that there was no large welcoming party. In twenty minutes I was knocking on the front door, then waited for my sleeping mother to open the door.

We hugged, then chatted briefly. My mother went back to bed and I went to get a beer, but at 2:00 AM just about everything was closed. I purchased one beer at the only open bar, lit a cigarette and left the premises with drink in hand.

I awoke at 7:30 AM had breakfast, went to the corner store and purchased two daily newspapers. My mother and I each read one, then I left to purchase a new cell phone, since I had misplaced my Trinidad cell phone in Ft. Lauderdale.

The Digicel phone dealer nearest to me was closed at 10:30 AM, and I was not even sure if that location was permanently closed. So I went a little out of my way to purchase a new phone in Curepe, a little hub of activity a few miles west of me.

I departed the Digicle store with a cheap Chinese-made Coral 300 phone that set me back TT $180.00 or about US $30.00. While I had a cold beer across the street at a local watering hole known as Bobby’s, I entered some phone numbers from my Ft. Lauderdale phone into the new Trinidad phone.

I made a few calls informing people of my new phone number, then headed back home. Before I got home I stopped to buy a pair of cheap sports sandals, drank a few more beers and bought a pack of $16.00 cigarettes.

I walked up the Eastern Main Road in Tunapuna, the town that I now call home, in the hot midday sun. Along the way I met and talked to several people that I knew and visited with a few others. In the supermarket, a local craftsman wanted to know if I brought back any tools for sale.

Returning home, I immediately took a shower and changed. Then I ate a couple tuna fish sandwiches that my mother had prepared, laid on the bed in front of the fan, watch some television and still exhausted from the walk home, I fell asleep.

Later on, and after work, my sister came by to visit with my mother and I.

After my sister left, I went back to sleep and awoke in the early evening. After awhile, I walked over to my local bar looking for Mikey, a friend and the resident deejay. But he was no there. Angie, the owner spotted me the instant that I walked through the door and shouted out my name from behind the bar.

I was informed that I had just missed Mikey and that he had moved out of the area. I deducted the he was no longer the house DJ, as Angie changed the music when needed. I ordered a bottle of club soda, sat down for a while and spoke to a few of the bar fixtures — customers — before coming back home and going back to sleep.

On Sunday, I spent several hours reading the weekend newspapers. Since this was Trinidad’s 46th Independence Day, most businesses were closed and the normal noises and trafiic were nonexistence today.

Stay tuned, since life here in Trinidad is different. The society is wildy violent now and greed permeate the entire county. It will be a wild ride.

Travel Day

Today is a travel day. I will depart Ft. Lauderdale at 8:55 PM this evening and after a three-an-a-half hour flight I’ll be back in Trinidad.

This time, this trip to the United States has not been beneficial. There are too much handships to go around. Everyone is hurting and the immediate future is bleak.

When I returned to Florida eleven months ago, I had intended to work for six to 9 months, save some money and returned to the Caribbean.

However, the economic scene had changed in my fourteen months away, and the  timing was wrong.

To friends who helped, I thank you all!

To those close to me, who were less than helpful, I understand you better now, and will remember you as well.

Thanks to all at Brady’s that helped, through these trying time.

Having cleared the Transportation Security Administration check points after a three hours girl-watching session, I’m now waiting to board my home-bound flight.

Then I’ll  be back in a familiar but now violent society, and a new chapter will unfold. What will be, will be.

Good bye Florida, for the time being.

Tropical Storm Fay coming

Since early morning when it slightly started to rain, we have been listening to the half-hourly South Florida weather updates on the radio as Tropical storm Fay works her way towards us.

It is now 9:30 AM, with darken skies and a steady drizzle. Since 8:50 AM when the skies changed and the sounds of thunder was heard in the distant, thus putting us on notice, the steady drizzle will gradually grow to maybe hurricane one — 74 miles-per-hour plus — status.

Even though we in Ft. Lauderdale, may once again dodge another tropical storm by escaping a direct hit, hurricane or storm force conditions will still impact us all.

Every year at this time, beginning in June and running through December, Floridians must deal with the potential of or actual hurricanes. This is an inescapable fact of life here in paradise.

Currently I am sitting in the caravan in a Lauderdale Lakes car park, awaiting the arrival of a friend, Camlyn Craig, whom I have not seen for 4 or five months. Originally from Maryland, Camlyn and I have known each other since the mid-nineteen-eighties. We met at a different time, in the same old way; a bar.

Camlyn has split her time, periodically, living in Ft. Lauderdale and South Africa, as a result of her marriage to a South African sailor. Her only child, Nathan, was born there and is a student at a private school there, and is a few years away from completing his studies.

Usually in recent years, following brief periods of inactivity, when Camlyn and I do managed to get in touch with or see each other, one of us are on the move; having just returned from somewhere or going somewhere.

As of 10:00 AM Fay is off the south-west coast of Cuba, packing winds of 50 MPH, headed in a north-north-west direction at a rate of 12 miles-per-hour toward the Florida Straits and South Florida. At this speed, Fay is expected to now impact us around mid-night or early Tuesday morning. We are currently under a Tropical Storm watch.

Having just returned from South Africa, Camlyn has among other things, to deal with an open DUI case that she picked up in Martin County, prior to her last departure for South Africa.

Like me, this second DUI charge will cost to defend it, and should she be unsuccessful, it will cost her much more than money. I am tasked today with giving Camlyn a very short ride, to the DUI traffic school for her alcohol evaluation appointment. This court mandated appointment will determine how much mandatory alcohol counseling sessions, she will have to attend, before completion of her probation and restoration of her her driving privileges.

It is now 10:45 AM and Camlyn had not yet shown for her 10:00 AM appointment. It is now raining heavier, however, the wind have not picked up and currently the skies have lighten to a light gray, with no thunder or lighting present at this time.

Camlyn has just called. She is hysterical, that she is late and may have to re-schedule her appointment. She is carrying on about idiot drivers and the traffic and not listening to my directions as to where I’m park waiting for her. The drive is less than two hundred feet away.

Finally arriving, I drove her to her evaluation, then to the Department of Motor Vehicles (DMV). She was lucky: no alcohol counseling and she was given a hardship drivers license. With the hardship license she could drive for business purposes only and only during daylight hours.

We had lunch at a very  bad Chinese restaurant and bid farewell to each other, since Camlyn is off to Seattle, Washington and me to the Caribbean.

It rained on and off for most of the day and night. By early morning on Tuesday, the worst was upon us: heavy winds and driving rain. By mid-afternoon, Fay moved northwards across the Florida peninsula, and it is back to business as usual.

Now the task at hand is to find cheap gasoline. Every gas station now is only selling the most expensive grade of gas. No cheaper grade is to be found. Tomorrow is another day.

I’m off to Brady’s Irish Pub, now. The office.

There I will make some phone calls and try to get in touch with my friend Lennox, to see if he wants to change out the transmission in the caravan that I’m trying to sell, before my departure.

Crossroads again! Time to go.

It has been at time an exercise in futility.

I am talking about the last eleven months of my life in Ft. Lauderdale, Florida.

Since my return to South Florida in September, 2007, I have been unable to find steady work. All that I have managed to get up to now, is the occasional day or two, here or there. Sometimes, I may get a one week computer job/project, and when I was lucky, I worked for a temporary job placement agency from February to May, when the seasonal job came to an end.

Job prospects in Florida, and by extension the United States of America, seems to be slim to none at this time.

In America now, too many people are afraid. People are afraid to: lose their jobs, homes, cars, health insurance, etc. They are in fact, simply afraid of their uncertain futures.

The economy has gone south and it is not coming back. At least not anytime soon!

After living in the Caribbean for fourteen months, I intended to work for six to 9 months in Florida, and then return to the island of my birth, where I had previously not lived for thirty-five years at that time.

I sold as much of my personal property to finance my return trip to the United States. I had in my estimation, about three months worth of money. Three months to find a job!

That did not happen and now, it is time to cut my losses and move on. The reality of the matter is that I will not find steady full time employment here at this time, despite the fact that I am an experienced, certified computer/network technician.

They were too many promises that we not fulfilled, and a series of lost work opportunities because here in an English-speaking America, I did not speak Spanish. That is what America has come to.

Reality check: I have been unable to find work and I could not afford a place to live. The two persons that I thought were more than friends could not or did not assist. One in particular, was spineless after telling me that I was his brother, when his wife began to loudly complain and slammed doors, objection about me sleeping on their sofa for 2 weeks, I decided that I was better off sleeping in my then car.

So I lived out of my Grand Caravan minivan for most of the eleven months here.

When one door closes, another opens. It could be viewed as action and reaction, up and down, good and bad.

Thanks to Robert Calvert, a longtime friend and former photojournalism colleague, I survived. He not only gave the Caravan to me, he paid for the registration, the first 6 months of insurance, my phone and phone service, to get me going when I returned.

During all that time I lived in the minivan.

I slept in it. I drove to job interviews in it. Everything I owned was stored in it.

The Dodge Grand Caravan was all that I had. And when I was unable to pay the insurance, do the maintenance or put gasoline in the van, Bobby never said no to my call for assistance. In return, I tried to reciprocate whenever he needed assistance with one of the many projects that he may have ongoing at the time.

I helped him with his computer issues. I helped with the on going construction work on his property. I helped whenever requested by him, without charge. Bobby, however, always provided some money to keep me going. An interested character this Robert Calvert of Indiantown, Florida, who has by his action, defined what a friend is. I will write more about him at a later date.

Most of my days were spent in various library branches of the Broward County Library system. There I could use my wireless-enable laptop computer to check e-mail from the many job boards that I had posted my resume on. Most importantly, using the wireless hotspot of the library, I could check to see if my saved job searches with CareerBuilder.com, Monster.com, HotJobs.com, Employflorida.com etc., yielded any job leads based on my resume and saved job profile, and apply for jobs that I felt I was qualified for.

That I did according to my job hunting folder count a total of 767 times, that resulted in three job interviews, 2 projects and the sporadic eight-dollars-an-hour jobs that came through the temporary job placement agency, since my return.

Usually it takes about three to four hours each day, to read the e-mails and go through the e-mailed job leads and apply for a job. Sometime before applying, I would have to answer a questionnaire or do an online technical test.

One Sunday morning about 10:00 am, I had a 2-hour telephone interview with a three-person technical inquisition panel from Dallas, Texas. Promises of a project were made, but no work resulted.

The other half of my day and all of my nights were spent in the air conditioned comfort of Brady’s Irish Bar in Margate, Florida, drinking  free club soda and playing pool.

There I could and did play pool/billiards for as long as I wanted, free of charge. Tom Read, the owner, is a very generous, friendly man, who never charges his customers (guests) for pool, soft drinks, snacks, etc.

He is a big man, six-feet-plus tall, with a full head of white hair and a beard to match. In fact he looks a lot like Santa Claus.

The jolly big-hearted New Englander, who hails from Vermont, has been living for thirty-plus-years in South Florida, and he frequently gives and gives away what other bar owners charges for.

There at Brady’s the friendly staff is as follows:
Michelle, the manageress, a very funny and friendly person,
Brian, Michelle’s assistant and Tom’s adopted stepson, whom I call “Brains”, because it sometimes takes awhile for the business school graduate to digest what was said to him,
Lisa Marie Presley, yes that is her real name. I call her Lisa Marie Pretty,
Janet, the lovely Thursday night and Friday and Saturday daytime barmaid, and,
Nikkie, Janet’s cute, but somewhat hostile twenty-something daughter.

So daily I live out of Brady’s where I did everything short of showering, along with a cast of characters, that would be worthy of a bad television soap-opera. More of that and them at a later date.

Just about everyone that I know is in a similar situation. People are scared and angry. Many don’t have any options available to them. They are paralyzed.

Now that I have decided it is time to go, I’m looking to buy the cheapest one-way ticket out of Florida.

Another big-hearted, generous friend, Art Seitz, who I’ve known for 25-plus-years, has provided monetary assistance in the form of a $500.00  check to help with the purchase of my ticket. Art is among the world’s premier sports photographers and is well known on the professional international tennis tour/circuit.

To both Art “World Famous” Seitz and Robert “K4NBC” Calvert, I say thank you for your support and long time friendship.

You two have demonstrated what friendship is all about. Not because you have helped out when needed, but, by the fact that over the last twenty to 25 years that we have known each other, through good and bad times, all three of us in his own way, has been able to lend a helping hand to the other, when called upon.

Thanks my friends, you will never be forgotten! We have lived like brothers.

For the time being I’m in countdown mode. I’m awaiting some things to occur before purchasing my ticket. By the end of the month if not sooner, I should be back in Trinidad.

Though life in Trinidad is not an easy one, everything is a struggle, it is home and the landscape is familiar. I do however know that at the age of fifty-four, that this may be my last move. I am willing to take the gamble. No pain, no gain! More to come …

Noisy laptop … kicked out of the libray

Today, the Nazi-librarians at the Broward County’s North Lauderdale branch hovered over me as I read my e-mail and complained that my trusted old Toshiba Portege laptop computer was too noisy, and that I should turn it off, as the noise could be heard all the way at the entrance to the library.

This, while I sat at the back of the building checking my e-mailed job listings.

For some two months now, I have been occasionally using the wifi service at the library branch and have observed that the old ladies of the library are a very zealous lot, when it comes to their fiefdom and their wards.

On any given day, along with a Broward County Sheriff’s officer, who is stationed in the library — the book-patrol crew walks back and forth looking at people, people’s laptop screens, desktop computers, etc.

They look at and for, every conceivable infraction of some unknown personal standard.

Mostly, they look for teens talking on their cell phones, chewing gum and basically messing around.

This I applaud. After all it is a place of study.

However, on this day, the seemingly head honcho, Joan and a couple of her cohorts had decided that the normal sounds of a laptop computer was too much for them and my fellow library users, and that I must turn off my laptop and use one of their desktop computers or leave their domain.

Joan, who was identified by her name badge, and accompanied by another library worker, was insistent that I turn off my computer, so she could make an assessment as to what was the source of the computer noise(s).

I told her OK; but she would have to do that act herself. She, a person who intended on finding the noise(s) source and a computer technical whiz, could not in the end, figure out how to use a mouse pointer nor how to turn off the machine.

Of course, I did not help out.

However, the two librarians insisted that I had to leave the room, and upon asking if I was being asked to leave the library, the now puzzled paired, looked at each other, then me and said that they would try to find me another room, somewhere in the building.

I told them that since I was not doing anything illegal, bothering anyone, not creating a scene — at least until they ridiculously approached me with this stupidity — that I would continue and not leave, but I quickly got the felling that they were about to call the police on me, when they turned their backs and walked away from me. I finished sending an e-mail to the local newspaper and departed the facilities, due to two Nazi-librarians in North Lauderdale, Florida.

I wondered upon my departure, if I could or would have been arrested by the Broward County Sheriff department for refusing to turn off my “noisy” laptop computer at the library.

On the Ranch … Or off – departure day

Thursday 31 July, 2008

Yesterday I decided that I had contributed enough, and Bobby had some errands to run before his annual summer trip to New York, next week. There was also things that I needed to take care of back in FT.. Lauderdale.

For the past two days, he and I did not accomplished much. In fact we did no work on Tuesday, as both of us were exhausted from the Florida summer weather.

Bobby spent most of the day on the computer doing whatever he does on the computer. I guess he spent sometime explaining to the New York hams about the delay, and now farther delayed ham radios from China.

Later on, he went into Okeechobee to visit with a friend, shop for supplies, buy cigarettes and fill up on the cheapest gasoline in the area.

I, well — I stayed behind and fell asleep in the late afternoon. I did not awake until 3:35 AM on Wednesday morning and went back to bed around six o’clock.

By the time we motivated ourselves on Wednesday, it was 3:00 PM. At my urging we installed the sheet rock on the ceiling until we ran out of material and then turned our attention to the remainder of the wall panels, again, until we ran out of material.

All in all, the interior of the ham shack is eighty-percent completed. Bobby also drilled a hole into the south side of the building and begun the installation of the electrical box.

I completed the day’s work by sanding wood that he salvaged from past hurricane damage, for his workshop shelves. The salvaged wood has had many uses up to now.

At first it belonged to a friend of his, then it was propped up against his bus for shading, next, it was used as concrete form boards for the steel building, and finally, now, in the ham shack as shelves.

Before I departed, Bobby swapped out the defective belt pulley in my van. It took him, about twenty minutes.

Then I was on the road back to Broward County, by 11:45 AM.

The first thing I did back in FT. Lauderdale at 2:45 PM, was go to the laundry mart and do a wash. I was past due for the laundry and precariously close to running out of clean clothes. I usually do a wash every two weeks.

Now that I am back at home base I have some catching up to do. Most importantly, find work.

The promise of a four months contract for a computer technician job with the Broward County’s Supervisor of Election office , does not seem to be happening. Before I left for Martin County, I e-mailed my contact (the person that told me about and recommended me for the job) a few times, but I have yet to hear from him. Guess I got my answer!

Since my return from the Caribbean last September, work has been sporadic at best.

A day here or there. A week’s project sometimes. No steady work, and with this economy, everyone that I know is in the same boat.

So, that is why, I was able to spend some time helping my good friend Robert Calvert, do some construction work on his “Calvert County” ranch in Indiantown, Martin County, USA.

Pictures from the ranch:

Ham shack view from the transmission tower

View from the house

Me driving nails into beam

Bobby dropping last roof panel

On The Ranch … Day 8

Monday 28 July, 2008

It is now 2:48 PM and Bobby has not yet given any instructions on his desires for the day.

Shortly after 10:00 AM, I got tired of sitting around, and decided to finish re-caulking some vertical seams on the ham shack that he told me a few days ago to hold off on. The ham shack’s exterior re-caulking is now completed.

After the now familiar pattern of some chit-chat and complaints about “shoddy workmanship” and the “fucking crew”, Bobby returned to the house.

While I was re-caulking I heard the occasionally: shit, fuck,mother-fucker and bastard(s) coming from the house.

Bobby then informed me that he had to go into town and pick up mail from his post office box, while I continued.

I asked him to pick me up a couple of packs of cigarettes. Some one hour later upon his arrival I went upstairs for the smokes.

He was sitting in front of his computer monitor, with an open construction book on his lap. I asked if he was now a student of construction, to which he replied, that he was looking up some information on hanging the ceiling panels.

I asked for my cigarettes and he began to shuffle papers on his desk, looked around him and then in the plastic shopping bag, that he returned with.

With a somewhat perplexed look, he then told me that he had forgotten to purchase the cigarettes.

I drove into Indiantown and bought the smokes and 3 beers, made a few telephone calls, visited the bathroom at the Shell gas station — the toilet facilities in the house is currently inoperable — and returned to the ranch. After awhile Bobby came out to the ham shack, sat down and told me of the his immediate problem, while I drank the beer.

His wire transfer of money to the Chinese radio manufacturers did not go through, as the wire information provided by the Chinese was somehow incorrect. Now he expects more pressure from the New York hams.

While away I could hear Bobby on his mobile radio set; talking to some ham operators in New York City. This could be heard via the internet and coming out of his stereo system.

It has been drizzling on and off as of 3:00 PM and little to no progress has been made today.

Maybe tonight he will be motivated enough to hang some more wall panels and finish this project.

I am waiting!

Additionally, recently I have been courting a woman that I met a few weeks ago. This time however, is different! I have met her only once to date, and all of our subsequent communications have been via text messaging.

Today, I received a text from this still-married woman containing for the first time, the word “Love.”

I wonder what’s up her sleeves.

On The Ranch … Day 7

Sunday 27 July, 2008

No work for me today!

Not that there is a lack of things to do, but because I’m tired, my back and hips hurt from yesterday’s lifting and moving of wood from near the under construction steel building, to under the now roofed car port, so when Bobby is ready to build wooden shelves, most if not all of the materials will be with in reach.

Today, I felt extremely tired and slept on and off until noon. I awoke to “I am senior Gunnery Sergeant Hartman, your drill instructor … ” blasting from the stereo system. The opening monologue from the late movie director Stanley Kubrick’s classic Vietnam-era “Full Metal Jacket” film is one of Bobby’s favorite that he plays occasionally. After washing and dressing, I drank coffee, eat a sweet bun and a banana.

Bobby was already active. He was up and down the ladder onto and off the car port roof. Driving, in his estimation missing nails into the support beams; trying to prevent the roof’s metal panels from going airborne during a storm.

A hurricane-harden Floridian, Bobby has experienced several storms during his thirty-plus-years of living in Florida; including two back to back storms: Ivan on September 16, 2004 and Jeanne, on week later, between September 25-27, 2004 , and he is determined not to have as much post-hurricane clean up as most people will do.

His aim, no, make that his obsession is 135-miles-per-hour! He is determine to have everything on the ranch withstand 135 MPH winds, and devout much time, energy and money towards meeting that standard.

A category 3 hurricane is 111-130 MPH with storm surge of 9 to 12 feet.

The reason for this precaution: sitting just behind the ham shack is a two-hundred-foot transmission tower and in a hurricane, airborne roof panels could sever the guy wires holding up the structure, thus taking the tower down, falling on the building and demolish it.

So, Bobby carries on with the thousands of nails that he intends on driving into the wooden beams. Periodically, he climbs off the roof to move his van into available shade. He has moved the van so far today, eight times.

The van repositioning is coupled with trips to the main house, visits to the web and conversations with me on what the construction trio did or did not do; mostly, did not do correctly.

Meanwhile, the distant voices of the ham operators in New York City could heard emanating out of his stereo system.

It is now 4:45 PM and since 3:45 PM, the clouds have darken, sounds of thunder can be heard and occasional lighting seen in the distance. The winds have also significantly picked up and there is a constant breeze coming at us, from the south-east.

Undoubtedly, the conditions are not right for outdoor activities and tomorrow is another day on the ranch — in Calvert County, USA.

Meanwhile, yesterday, while on my way to town, suddenly a loud, annoying screeching-type noise could be heard coming form my van’s engine compartment. Upon my return, I informed Bobby and he made a quick inspection of the engines-area. He diagnosed a bad belt pulley. I am hoping before I leave the ranch, with the help of him, to pull a used replacement pulley, from one of the old Caravans that he has around the property, and from which he gets spare parts from.

The wind continues, and the thunder rolled over our heads. Bobby walked down the steps of the main house with coffee in hand. Went into the ham shack for a few moments, came out, climbed the ladder and is back on the roof, spewing expletives about the construction trio’s work and all the fixing that he must now do, while dropping tools and talking to himself.

I got the feeling that when the rains come, he will abandon the roof nailing exercise for the day, and retreat to the ham shack to start installing wall panels that are already cut and leaning on the studs ready to go.

I will now put on my steel-tipped work shoes, which were soaked with water yesterday, and all day have been sitting in the ninety-two-degrees Florida temperature, climb the ladder and make a rooftop appearance until the rains comes once again.

But I changed my mind, because of Bobby’s mood, and instead walked over to the shaded east side of the building and began to re-caulk that side, finishing just as the last bit of day light passed by at 8:25 PM.

Now the entire ham shack has be re-caulked; completed sealed from rain, wind and insects.

After bathing and changing into long sleeve shirt and pants, I went into the house, drank 2 beers left over from last night, microwave a dinner and spoke to a now relaxed Bobby, before leaving him on the computer at 9:35 PM.

He will be up most of the night and tomorrow they will be another episode.

On The Ranch … Day 6

Saturday 26 July, 2008

Since nine o’clock this morning I have been waiting for the appearance of Bobby. There is no indication that he may be out of the house anytime soon.

Bobby returned to the ranch at 10:00 PM last night, and restarted hanging the plywood wood panels that he had purchased in Okeechobee. We stopped at midnight.

I would like to finish re-caulking the east side of the ham shack, but Bobby ask that I hold off, since he wants to use the clear silicone sealant that I used yesterday, to plug the leaks on the pole-barn roof.

Since I’m a computer technician, and not a construction worker I’m reluctant to take the initiative, to avoid Bobby’s yelling and screaming if something goes wrong, or not done to his liking.

The boss just made an appearance! At 10:50 AM, a barebacked Bobby stepped out of his school bus, parked next to the house, and which he has used as his sleeping quarter for the past year, as he gradually work on the main house.

He stretched his arms skywards and looked in the direction of the ham shack, where I’m seated in my van under the roof. He then headed up the stairs. I expect to see him and ready to go in the next hour. It seems that the Boss is gearing up for the day.

Suddenly the sounds of the New York City-area ham operators could be heard over the stereo system. Bobby listen to the hams and NYC oldies radio station CBS 101 FM via the Internet. He patches the computer’s audio output into his stereo system and the audio can be heard all the way outside at the work site.

Yesterday, Bobby setup one of his imported Chinese-made radios on the VOX setting , and placed it in front of a speaker in the house.

For most of the day we listened to NewsRadio 880 in the Big Apple, via hand-held Cobra 2-way radios — which both of us had clipped on our belts– and he had tuned to the same channel as his Chinese-made radio.

Work continued at a slow and relaxed pace, with Bobby on the roof adding more nails to the panels; me on the ground moving a pile of plastic modular shelving system from the growing grass a short distant away. I moved the shelves closer to the ham shack and scrubbed and wash them all, then hung them in the sun to dry, when suddenly Bobby got pissed-off at me, when the hose at full blasts did the snake dance and he got wet, shouting: “You are not paying attention to what you’re doing!”

I yelled back at him and told him that he could not talk to me like that, since I was the only one that came this far to help out, and I would get the fuck out of here if he continued. He calmed down and both of us in silence continued with what we were doing.

By 3:20 PM the rain clouds could be seen and the thunder in the distant could be heard. Shortly thereafter the system rolled in and today’s work came to an end.

Not since I was a boy in the Caribbean, I took a rain water shower, dressed and went into Indiantown to make phone calls and purchase cigarettes and beer. While sitting in the van, with heavy rain in the area, the phone rang and Bobby, surprisingly asked that I bring him back a beer.

This I did. It is very unusual sight to see him drinking anything but coffee.

We sat under the roof looking around, and then decided that we should go into Okeechobee for dinner.

On our way into Okeechobee, while driving along the east side of the lake, Bobby began showing me one of his new toys. The recently installed GPS system and what it could do. Several times he crossed the dividing center line while  punching up different features of the GPS.

When he quickly reached to his left and grabbed his seat belt, I soon knew why.

Looking away from the GPS screen and into the rear view mirror, I saw the reason. It was an Okeechobee County sheriff’s deputy strobing red and blue lights.

Bobby pulled off the road and onto the grassy shoulder and waited.

The bright white light of the deputy’s flashlight slowly made its way forward, until the deputy was at the driver’s side window and both of our hands were clearly visible to him in the darken Caravan.

I told Bobby, the only reason I could thing of the deputy pulling him over, was the fact that he had swerved several time down the road.

Sure enough, the deputy , after identifying himself asked Bobby if he knew why he was pulled over.

Bobby responded, “Maybe you think I’m signal one or signal 20.”

The Deputy, “I’ve been following you and you crossed the center lane several times.”

Bobby, “I was showing my friend here my new GPS system.”

The Deputy, “What do you know of signals one and twenty?”

Signal 1 is driving under the influence and signal twenty, a crazy person.

Bobby replied, “I come from a law enforcement family, plus I was journalist.”

At which point the tobacco chewing deputy, slowly turned his head to his left, toward the front of the vehicle and spat out the tobacco juices, just like they do in the movies.

Following the mini-lecture about the importance of being alert while driving and not being distracted by anything in his van, the deputy asked Bobby, “Do you still live in Indiantown.”

Bobby replied that he did and the deputy slowly handed back the driver’s license in his hand to Bobby, with a waring to “drive safely.”

We dined on omelettes at a chain-restaurant called Clocks, which bills itself as “America’s Dinner Table.” Bobby chatted with a long time friend via ham radio during dinner. Following our departure at closing time, we stopped at the bank, where I deposited some money that he gave me, in order to pay a bill that is due tomorrow while I’m away from my home base.

Returning to Indiantown around midnight I retired to bed, and Bobby stayed up checking e-mail concerning the importation of the Chinese-radios, because the New York hams are breathing down his back and they are very eager to have the radios in their amateur ham radio hands

On The Ranch … Day 5

Friday 25 July, 2008

I awoke at approximately 3:30 AM; when the battery on the portable two-way radio that Booby is testing for sale, when off with an electronic programmed female voice informing me that “the battery was low.” What an annoying voice!!! I went back to sleep until 8:30 AM, when I got up and microwave water for coffee and waited for Bobby’s appearance. Shortly after 9:30 AM he came down the stairs of his house and walked over to the ham shack, where I am sleeping, and procrastinated for an hour, when I decided to star caulking the north side of the building.

Using a different method today, I begun caulking the lower seams that I could reach without a ladder first, using clear silicone this time. The west and south sides were caulked with a different sealant.

Periodically, Bobby came around to see my progress and talk. By 3:10 PM the customarily summer rains came and the caulking came to end for the day. But, not before I completed the entire north side.

I had lunch then; talked with Bobby some more, then we moved into the ham shack and started hanging plywood wall panels. At 5:10 PM we ran out of panels.

Knowing that he had to conduct some banking, Bobby headed to the nearest bank, in Okeechobee once again, to transfer money for the purchase of Chinese-made ham radios that he is importing for sale to fellow amateur radio operators in the metropolitan New York City area.

He asked if I wanted to go with him or stay on the ranch. I choose the latter, so that I may shower and eat.

Additionally, he had to pick up some more plywood since we ran out, and plywood hanging ceased for the day.

Currently, I am waiting for his return. I hope to get some cash from him soon, so I may pay bills due and go to the laundry mart in Indiantown, as I really need to do a wash. Working pants, tee-shirts, socks and underwear are running short.

Every time Bobby inspects the ham shack, he sees imperfection by Barry and his crews; resulting in Bobby often mumbling about having to do corrective work, and though I am no constructing worker, he and I are making progress and in the absence of the constructing trio, steady progress is at hand with Bobby teaching me some construction skills along the way.