The Texas Primary

The Texas primary was yesterday.  I didn't vote.  In order to vote you had to swear allegiance to the Democrats or the Republicans and since I'm not a member of a political party I could not vote.  I am an Independent and can vote for whoever I want, no matter what their party may be.  I always attempt to vote for the individuals whom I think will be best for the country.  I don't have a problem with "splitting the ticket".  To vote by simply checking "Republican" or "Democrat" is not necessarily voting for the best candidates.  All you are doing is following the instructions of "your" party.  Letting someone TELL you how to vote.   

At this point I don't know who I will be voting for in November but I do know for whom I will NOT be voting!  Last year when Congress sat around on their thumbs and refused to compromise over the national debt it made me very angry.  However, I was not the only one that was upset with our elected representatives.  A vast majority of the American public was not happy that their voices were not being heard by their senators and representatives.  Congress did what it always does, which is whatever they want to do and not what their constituents want them to do.  As a result of that fiasco I vowed that I would not vote for ANY incumbent in November.  They had their chance and botched it as far as I am concerned.  Therefore, I will vote for their opponents.  It's a personal protest.  I really don't think it matters who is in Congress because they only do what is good for themselves and not their constituents.  Oh, sure.  They throw us a bone every once in a while just to give us the impression that they are working for us.  If everyone else who was unhappy with that bunch up in Washington would also NOT vote for any incumbent we would clean house up there.  And that would be a good thing!

(Any editorial comments made on this blog are those of the author who knows nothing about politics, but knows if something stinks it should be thrown out of the house -- and senate.)

Mountains and Memories

We had to leave the NE Georgia Mountains today and head back to Texas.  I'll miss the mountains.  They are quiet and peaceful and I feel very much at ease in their presence.  The air is fresh and clean, filtered through the trees, and washed by the afternoon showers.  I spent about seven summers in the north Georgia mountains when I was a kid.  Back then, before video games, computers, cell phones, and television (as we know it today) many kids were sent off to summer camps (if their parents could afford it).  I went to Camp Dixie for Boys in Wiley, GA for 8 weeks each summer from age 10 to 16 years old (my first summer was for only 4 weeks).  I also spent the summer after I graduated from high school as a counselor at Camp Dixie for Boys.  Years later, my son and daughter would both attend Camp Dixie for several summers.

The sister camp, Camp Dixie for Girls, was located just outside of Clayton, GA.  Each of the camps would have approximately 125 or so campers.  In that same area, near Tallulah Falls, was the Athens Y Camp (boys) and Camp Chattooga (girls), both of which are still in operation.

When I was 15 years old I was one of about 10 or 12 older boys that inaugurated Pine Valley, a roughing-it camp a couple of miles up into the mountains from the main camp.  When we arrived that first summer, there were only four large tents at a site that had been hacked out of the thick hardwood forest.  The tents had wooden floors about a foot off the ground with the top and two sides covered with canvas.  Canvas could also be lowered over the two open ends when it rained.  Two of the tents were for the campers, one for the counselors and cook, and the fourth was the cook tent and mess hall.  We had to dig a latrine and erect an outhouse over it, build a foot-bridge across a creek that ran through the camp, build a wooden platform for an outdoor shower, and lay PVC pipe to provide water from a spring that was about a hundred yards further up the mountain.  There was no hot water, only the cold mountain spring water that we piped down the mountain.  Talk about a cold shower! 

Once we completed the camp, a lot of our time was spent hiking or riding horses through the mountains and going on canoe trips.  We came across more than one moonshine still while hiking in the mountains.  Either they were not in use at the time or the moonshiners heard or saw us coming and hid until we passed on by.  We just pretended that we hadn't seen anything and kept on walking.

One day we used a compass to hike across the mountains to the girls' camp.  It was only about 8 miles "as the crow flies" but took most of the day.  We were quite disappointed after successfully making it there to be immediately loaded into a truck and taken back to the boys' camp. 

We canoed the "Chain of Lakes" (Lakes Burton, Seed, and Rabun - about 20 miles total length) and Fontana Lake (about 17 miles long) in western North Carolina.  Our canoes were made of wood and canvas.  We portaged (canoe-speak for "toted") the canoes over two dams and shot the rapids below them on the Chain of Lakes trip.  The canoe that I was in hit a rock and broke right in half.  The other guys had to retrieve our gear as it floated past them (everything was in water-proof bags, thank goodness).

We also hiked 55 miles of the Appalachian Trail in Georgia and North Carolina over a week's time, carrying everything we needed in army surplus WWII ski patrol packs.  Mine weighed approximately 45 pounds.  I weighed about 115 pounds.  We didn't carry water, which would have been much too heavy.  We carried empty canteens that we filled at the many springs along the trail.  I'm not sure it would be wise to do that now. The worse part was the first day because it was all up hill.  After that, we hiked along the ridges with minimal up and down hiking.  When it rained we just covered ourselves and packs with a poncho and kept on truckin'. 

Bears were encountered much more frequently on the Trail 50 years ago.  We usually had an entourage just out of sight behind us.  When we stopped for a break we would watch the bears coming around the last bend in the trail behind us.  As soon as they saw us they would stop suddenly, usually bumping into each other like Keystone Cops.  Then they would turn around and haul ass the other way.  When we stopped for lunch or for the night, the bears would move in a circle around us and the smell of our food would cause them to gradually move in closer and closer.  We would keep a small supply of golf-ball size rocks on hand to throw towards them when they began to get too close.  That would startle them and they would move back a ways. 

One night I woke up to see a bear standing beside one of the campers who was snuggled up in his sleeping bag sound asleep.  I yelled at the bear, the boy woke up, and the bear turned and ran off.  The boy probably had to clean out his sleeping bag!  One morning we awoke to find that another boy's aluminum mess kit, which he had wrapped in a towel and used as a pillow, had been removed from under his head as he slept, ripped open, and disposed of several feet away.  No one heard or saw the night time intruder.  The funny thing is, I don't remember any of us being afraid of the bears.  Maybe we were just too young to be afraid.

Today Camp Dixie is co-ed and operated in what was once the girls' camp in Clayton.  The boys' camp closed years ago and the land is now a planned community.  Campers now total about 70 girls and boys each summer.  Camp Dixie will celebrate its centennial in 2014.  My grandson will be 6 years old then and plans are for him to start attending Camp Dixie that year.  I intend on participating in the centennial celebration myself.  I wish more kids were able to attend summer camps. 

My Love – Hate Relationship With Football

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Attending my 50^th high school class reunion and seeing my old football coach and team mates got me to thinking about my love-hate relationship with football.

It all started when I was 6 years old and I began playing football in the first grade.  It was called “Midget Football” and was not associated with the school system.  I don’t remember whether I had actually expressed a desire to play football, after all, I was a very skinny little boy.  I imagine that my parents made the decision for me.  From that time on I HAD to play football and offer up my skinny frame as a sacrifice every year because I felt that my father expected it and would be disappointed in me had I not played football.  I did not wish to disappoint my father, as that might be worse than any fear I had of playing football.

Each “Midget” footballer was required to furnish his own equipment (helmet, uniform, pads, etc.).  My mother took me to a sporting goods shop in Columbus, GA (55 miles north of Cuthbert, my hometown) where she bought a red plastic helmet, shoulder pads, red jersey, pants with pads, and shoes for me.  I believe we must have been told ahead of time whether we were to be on the “Red Team” or the “Blue Team”.

There were all manner of uniforms when we showed up for our first practice.  Not everyone could afford a complete uniform or a good quality one.  I’m sure that I must have had one of the best, my father being a physician and surgeon who enjoyed the respect (and love) of the community.  That may have had something to do with my being chosen as the quarterback for the Red Team.

The Red Team’s coach was a volunteer whose name is on the tip of my tongue.  His first name was Bill.  Why I can remember his first but not his last name I don’t know, as I would never have called him by his first name.  I am still able to picture his face in my mind.  Hopefully, his name will come to me.

I have no memories of, but I did continue playing “Midget Football” or its equivalent until 7^th grade when I went out for the junior high football team.  I was scared to death.  It was like the “Big Time” compared to the kind of football I had played for the previous 6 years.  I was still skinny as a rail and I just knew that the 8^th grade boys would kill me for sure.  But what made it REALLY scary was the fact that the junior high players often practiced with the high school “B Team” (mainly the freshmen)!  I felt that the only thing that would keep me from being killed would be speed and quickness.  I could run a lot faster than almost anybody else on the team, as evidenced by my pre-junior high school nickname, “Rabbit”.

I don’t remember much about junior high football except that I still played (or practiced at) quarterback, although much of my game time was spent on the bench.  However, the coach would sometimes put me in a game to return punts and kick offs.  That was the down side of being fast!  I would get to run with the football straight into the teeth of the other team and have every single one of them wanting to tear me limb from limb and stomp me into the ground. 

The coach would put two of us back to receive a kick off, one on the left and one on the right.  From the time I ran onto the field until the ball was in the air I would repeat the mantra, “Please, don’t let it come to me.  Please, don’t let it come to me.” over and over.  When the ball did come to me I would take it and run as fast as I could in an attempt to evade the oncoming meat-grinder.  Even though I was scared to death of playing football there was no way that I could tell my father that I wanted to quit.  As I have already implied, that would be far worse than being torn apart and stomped into the ground!  Was I afraid of my father?  Let’s just say that I had a great deal of respect for him and I certainly did not want to disappoint him or make him mad.  He never laid a hand on me but the verbal abuse he could dish out was worse than any whipping.

After junior high football it suddenly got worse.  Now I HAD to play HIGH SCHOOL football!  It was a very small school so there was no way I was not going to make the team.  They had to beg guys to play!  I was a freshman who weighed about 120 pounds and I would be knocking heads (and other body parts) with sophomores, juniors, and seniors, some of who were almost twice my weight.  Football practice during my freshman year was nothing less than shear terror.  I would almost make myself sick, spending most of the school day dreading the coming afternoon’s practice session.   The high school football coach, Coach Murphy, was reputed to be the devil incarnate.  How would I manage to survive with my sanity intact?  It seemed my only chance would be to run faster than ever.

I began running track in junior high school.  I was a sprinter, very fast over relatively short distances.  This was good for playing football.  However, I didn’t get very much playing time as a freshman, even though I still had to endure the tortures of the practice sessions.  At least I still practiced as a quarterback.  I learned that if I executed a play quickly, smoothly, and effectively got rid of the ball, I might not get hit at all!  Unfortunately, I still had to participate in the head-on tackling during practice.  You couldn’t sidestep or try to make the other guy miss.  You were required to run straight into the other player.  At 120 pounds it was similar to being run over by a Mack truck when I met my opponent at full speed.

Coach Grey was now our coach and he was very meek compared to Coach Murphy and practices were not as terrifying anymore.  I began to get quite bit of playing time at quarterback during my sophomore year even though I was still skinny.   I believe my weight was listed as 135 pounds in the games’ programs, which was somehow supposed to keep the other team from knowing how light I really was.  The uniform and pads could also do a pretty good job of keeping them from seeing how skinny I was.

Our offense was primarily the triple option.  The quarterback had the option to hand off or fake it to the full-back straight up the middle, hand-off or fake it to a half-back over the tackle, or pitch out to the other half-back as he swept around the end.  Of course the quarterback could also keep the ball himself if the other options were covered.  I was pretty good at working that offense and I believe I could have been REALLY good if had been able throw the football.  But with my small hands and skinny arms I could not throw the football very far down field.

Because of my speed I also played safety on defense.  Theoretically, if everyone else on the defense did his job it would not be necessary for me to head-on tackle some monster fullback breaking into our secondary.  Of course, I still had to cover any potential pass receivers once they were through the line.  Again, speed was a definite plus to keep the potential receiver from outrunning me and if I could deflect or knock the ball down then I didn’t have to risk potential bodily harm by tackling the pass receiver!  However, once or twice, instead of preventing the receiver from catching the football, I actually caught (intercepted) it myself.  Then I would become the target and at risk of being physically assaulted by members of the other team.

Even though I still hated and feared football practice I actually began to enjoy playing on Friday nights in the fall.  I can still remember the bright lights and the smell of the grass.  Friday nights in the fall were usually quite chilly.  Sometimes, they could be freezing cold.  As the kickoff time neared I would be hyped-up with my adrenalin pumping.  But any nervousness would disappear after that first hit and then it became fun.  Of course, it was a lot more fun if we won the game, which I don’t remember happening during my sophomore year.  Coach Grey and the easy practices would not be back next year.

Coach Fred Tucker became our head football coach my junior year.  Coach Tucker quickly established himself as a very demanding coach who pushed us to our physical limits and then some.  He was tough, strict, and had a very hot and quick temper.  I was a little frightened of him, although I had a tremendous amount of respect for him.  Practices were once again to be dreaded.  They were long and hard, taking all you had.  But Coach Tucker was also a teacher.  He knew we were a small team so he preached speed.  “You have to out-quick the other team!” and “My 90 year old grandmother is faster!” he would yell at us.  He demanded precision and would accept nothing less.  To play in his backfield required being able to run the 100-yard dash in 11 seconds or less.

I still couldn’t throw the ball but I was faster than I had been the previous season.  It didn’t take Coach Tucker long to determine that I should be a halfback rather than a quarterback.  Many of our players had to play both offense and defense during games.  I played halfback on offense and safety on defense. The team began to win some ball games and the town began supporting us by filling the stands and even buying us steak dinners when we won.  It was fun!

I was standing beside Coach Tucker during practice one day, waiting for him to send me back into the scrimmage with an assigned play to run.  Things were not going as he intended and he threw his hat on the ground and shouted, “IF IT WERE RAINING SHAST, I WOULDN’T HAVE AN UMBRELLA!!!!” 

“Coach”, I innocently asked.  “What’s shast?” 

“SHIT, DAMNIT, SHIT!!!” he replied.

Coach Tucker has now coached for 64 consecutive years, which is a record in the State of Georgia.  If he hangs in there for 6 more years he will tie the national record set by Alonzo Stagg.

I was not the best player on our team by any means.  Nor was I the fastest.  Without bragging I can say that I did manage to enjoy a few moments of glory and I have to say that it felt great!  Most of those moments were after returning a punt or kickoff for a touchdown or sweeping around left or right end for a long run or touchdown.  It could also have been when I made a good play on defense.  Granted, it did not happen that often in my last two years of football but it was enough for me and I can watch the instant replays in my mind any time I wish.  Everyone should have similar moments to remember when feeling a little down.

I have to tell you that upon graduation from high school I had not yet played in my last football game.  No, I did not play in college.  At age 36 I played in a full contact, 60-minute, regulation game for a local charity.  I played my old high school positions on the hospital team in Gadsden, AL against a team put together by a local radio station.  The radio station’s team was bigger and included a couple of ex-college football players.  We beat them pretty bad, which only made them mad.  I was out of shape, much slower than 18 years earlier, and although I got knocked around a bit, I managed to get in some pretty good licks myself and I enjoyed the pure hell out of it! 

“Do you remember…..?”

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I attended my 50^th high school class reunion, Cuthbert High School’s Class of 1962, this weekend.  Cuthbert is a small town in southwest Georgia, a little smaller now than it was in 1962.  There were 42 of us in the class of ’62.  Of those 42 individuals, 9 are known to be deceased and 5 are “unaccounted for” (no contact).  Of the remaining 28 class members contacted, 20 attended the reunion.  That’s a rather remarkable 71.4%.

I had only seen a couple of them since our 10 year class reunion and I would have been in trouble had there not been name tags.  I was a little nervous about attending, fearful that I wouldn’t recognize anyone.  However, I did recognize 8 without the aid of a nametag or hint. 

Once the ice was broken the most commonly heard words were “Do you remember….?".  Many stories were recounted, some probably “enhanced” over the years.  Some of the things I was accused of being a part of were nowhere to be found in my memory.  I don’t know whether I was guilty as accused or repressing the memory!  Some of my high school memories are vividly etched in my mind and I can replay them at will.  Others are somewhat vague and I remember only bits and pieces while there are periods of time that I have no recollection of whatsoever.  Unfortunately, there seem to be too many of those blank spaces.

What I do remember best was playing football for Coach Fred Tucker and I was very happy to see him at the reunion.  Although somewhat terrified of him in high school I had a great deal of respect for him.  I would do, or at least attempt, anything he instructed me to do.  One day in practice I went left instead of right (or perhaps vice-versa).  He called me over to him and asked if I knew my right from my left.  "Yes sir", I said.  He told me to stick out my right foot.  I did and he stomped it with one of his brogans.  He then told me to stick out my left foot.  I did so and he stomped that foot.  Then he said, "Now, do you think you can remember your left from your right?".  "Yes sir", I replied.  

He would sometimes make up some really crazy plays.  One of them required me to argue with the referee through out the game regarding the spotting of the ball.  At some point, late in the game I am sure, I was to act exasperated, turn to our center and say, "Hand me the ball."  With all of our players standing statue-still (to avoid a motion or off-sides penalty) I was then to start stepping off yards and see how far I could get before the other team realized that we were actually running a play and tackled me.  When I began to step off the yardage our opponent's coach began jumping up and down on the sidelines and yelling, "TACKLE HIM, TACKLE HIM!".  His players were confused and didn't know what to do.  They looked back and forth from the referee to their coach, unsure of what they should do.  If this was not a "real" play they could be penalized for unnecessary roughness or unsportsman-like conduct.  Before I could get past their last 2 defensive players they decided that they were more afraid of their coach than they were of being penalized and I began running.  After about 2 strides I was tackled by their whole team.  We got a first down but could never run that play again that season!

I was amazed at Coach Tucker's recall of particular plays in some of the games.  My 64-yard punt return for a touch down against Turner County he vividly described except he turned into an 85-yard jaunt when he recounted it.  He did accurately describe the wall of blockers that enabled me to score those 6 points.  The Turner County coach had earned his coaching “wings” under Coach Tucker and for the “teacher” to beat the “pupil” by a score of 6 – 0 made him extremely happy. 

He even remembered the nicknames that he gave to all of his players.  These names were usually based on some characteristic of the player, which made it easy for him to remember.  I was “Little Doc” because my father was a physician.  Some of the nicknames were a little less dignified, such as “Wormy”.  I can’t recall any of the other nicknames.

At 86 years of age, Coach Tucker’s mind is surprisingly nimble and quick.  He still coaches and has been coaching continuously for 64 years.  He is hoping to do so for at least 6 more years and tie the record of 70 years set by Alonzo Stagg.  I certainly hope he makes it.

Northeast Texas

Yesterday we visited the 13,000 square foot Texas Music Hall of Fame in Carthage.  The museum began in 1993 as the Tex Ritter Museum and grew to include other Texas-born country music legends.  As of 2012 there are 43 members of the Hall of Fame.  Some of the names I'm sure you will recognize include Gene Autry, Dale Evans, Kris Kristoferson, the Gatlin Brothers, Willie Nelson, Waylon Jennings, Ernest Tubb, Bob Wills, Ray Price, Tanya Tucker, Mac Davis, Jimmy Dean, Roger Miller, Buck Owens, and George Jones.

The current facility was built in 2002 for $2.5 million.  Then, in August 2004, the museum expanded to add a significant Jim Reeves (remember "Hello, Walls") display which features the radio equipment from Jim's radio station KGRI in Henderson, TX.  Jim Reeves was a native of Carthage and is buried a few miles outside of town.

I'm sure everyone has heard of Tex Ritter, movie cowboy and western music star.  Tex began his acting career in 1932 but he didn't get his big boost in western music until 1952 when he sang the theme for the Gary Cooper Oscar winning movie, "High Noon" in 1952.  The movie was made in 1951 but received some rather poor reviews at a test showing.  It was decided that the movie needed a theme song to match the tense storyline.  They chose the song "Do Not Forsake Me Oh My Darling" and selected Tex Ritter to sing it.  The rest is history.

Tex Ritter is also the father of the late John Ritter, star of the television show, "Three's Company".  How many of you knew that?

Today we drove 45 miles to the Monte Verdi plantation.  Quoting from the Monte Verdi Plantation website (www.monteverdiplantation.com):

"Monte Verdi is an architectural showplace built in the Greek Revival style and was completed in 1856.  The mansion was built by Julien Sidney Devereux and was situated on his 10,721 acre plantation.  After Julien's death in 1856, it was Sarah Devereux that kept the plantation producing through the Civil War years even while being heavily taxed to support the Confederate Troops.

The plantation remained in the family until sometime around the turn of the century.  The home passed through several owners and the land was sold off piece by piece.  By 1958, the home was in great disrepair.  Mr. & Mrs. E.F. Lowry bought the property and immediately began their three year restoration.  They returned the home to its grand stature overlooking the East Texas hills.

The plantation is now owned by Joe & Cecilia Koch.  They have spent much time and travel to furnish the home with the appropriate period pieces of furniture.  Their home is now open to the public on occasion throughout the year, and always available for tours by appointment."

Tomorrow we hit the road for Georgia and my 50th high school class reunion this weekend.

Around Your Elbow to Get to Your ..........

We had to have the motorhome and car at M&G Engineering in Athens, TX (about 100 miles) at 10 AM this morning.  We were having M&G install their air braking system, an indicator light on the dash (lights when the brakes in the car are activated), the base plate for the tow bar, and the wiring harness from motorhome to car so that the car's turn signals and brake lights mimic those of the motorhome.  We were up at 6 AM and  on the road at 8 AM.  I drove the motorhome and Carol Ann the car.  We arrived on time and they started right away.  While they worked, Carol Ann and I spent most of the time cleaning, straightening, and putting things away inside the motorhome. 

When it was 30 minutes past the three hour estimate they had given me I asked how much longer it should be.  Another hour and a half was the revised estimate.  That would get us on the road by 3 PM and we could be in Carthage about 5 PM, still in time for the 6 PM covered dish supper with our RV club. 

The additional hour and a half turned into two hours but we could still make Carthage in time.  At 3:30 PM we had the car hooked up and the motorhome idling while we tested the brake lights and turn signals.  Bad news.  The lights weren't working on the car!  There was no power where the car wiring plugged into the motorhome.  After another hour and a half they still had not determined the cause so they just cut and bypassed the old motorhome wiring and ran new wire to the plug.  Finally, everything worked.

We managed to get on the road about 5 PM.   It was about 110 miles to Carthage and we had to stop for fuel.  It rained on us for a while but we made it by 6:45 PM.  We pulled into our RV site at the Carthage RV Park and just left the car hooked up so we could get over to the meeting room and for some supper before it was all gone.  After we finished eating and socializing we went back to the motorhome and unhooked the car.  It had been completely blocking our RV site's street.  Fortunately there wasn't much traffic in the park.

The member's of our RV club are from all over Texas, but most are from the central part of the state.  Carol Ann and I live in East Texas and were excited that Carthage had been chosen as a rally site.  We only live about 50 miles from Carthage and most of the rallies we attend are hundreds of miles away (Texas is a REALLY big state!).  The sad thing is that because we had to go to Athens, the trip took us almost 10 hours and we traveled over 200 miles........just to go to a rally 50 miles from home!

We are tired and I am about to hit the sack.  Pictures tomorrow.

Good night!

Road Trip!

For the first time since our return from Mexico we are about to hit the road for a couple of weeks.  We have a new Pergo "wood" laminate floor in the motorhome and a brand new toad that we traded for our poor little Saturn.  The Saturn was a good car and a good toad, but Mexico simply proved too much for it!  We are now the proud owners of a new 2012 Chevy Traverse LTZ.  We ordered it so we could get just what we wanted.  The color is Midnight Blue and we are hoping it will look good behind our blue and gray motorhome.  I'll take some photos and post them down the road.

In the morning (Monday) we will drive the motorhome and Traverse to M&G Engineering in Athens, TX to have the towing base plate and the supplementary air braking system installed on the Traverse.  We had the same braking system on the Saturn and really liked it.

We should pull out of M&G around 2 PM and head for Carthage, TX where we hope to arrive by 4 PM.  Our Texas Disco (for Fleetwood Discovery motorhome) Road Runners, or TDRR, club is holding a rally in Carthage.  We will have to leave the rally on Thursday, a day early, in order to make it to Cuthbert, GA for my 50th high school class reunion that is being held on Friday and Saturday.  That should be a real interesting experience as I have seen very few of my former classmates since shortly after graduation.

After the weekend reunion we will probably venture up to Athens (GA) and Atlanta and visit a couple of old friends before returning to Texas.  I'll let you know how the trip goes.

Super Moon Tonight

Tonight (May 5, 2012) the moon was full AND at its perigee (closest to the Earth this year), therefore, it appeared larger than normal (it was about 13,000 miles closer). This event, the full moon at its perigee, will not occur again until the year 2029 and I felt it was necessary to go out and take a photo.  I shot it with a 300 mm telephoto (longest lens I own), ISO 100, aperture at f/16, and various shutter speeds.  I used a tripod and a remote shutter release cable with the mirror locked in the up position to keep any vibrations from causing movement.  Of course, the moon is moving and with longer shutter speeds the photo is not as tack-sharp as I had hoped.  I meant to take some at wider apertures and faster speeds but seem to have forgotten once I started.  Guess I'll have to try again in 2029.  I'll only be 83 years old then!

Super Moon