10:20 a.m. Mom and I are sitting at the Horizon Terminal in Miami, waiting for Uncle Mike and Aunt Leah to pick us up. It was the usual nightmare getting off the ship, but Mom is officially considered disabled, so we were one of the first people down the gangway.

Despite the fact that Mom was in a wheelchair and despite the fact that I was wearing my splints, it was still a prolonged and painful process. Mom made the mistake of saying “take your time” to Uncle Mike, and I wish she hadn’t. You never, ever tell people in this world to take their time, because they most definitely will.

But we have plenty of interesting people that we can watch while we wait. Armed guards with matt black automatic weapons wearing camouflage fatigues and black berets are standing around guarding something or other.

Boredom has got to be a significant problem for soldiers. Exciting things happen so rarely in this world, and when they do, they take place in a flash and often by surprise. I hope those soldiers are attentive to something because they seem to ignore us.

At least we got off that ship, and getting through customs was a breeze! They didn’t even check our passports in Miami, though they did scrutinize us at Key West, checking our boarding passes, our picture IDs, and our passports. We had a very friendly attendant help push Mother’s wheelchair, and I schlepped the rest of the bags, all on wheels, which was a chore. But I managed not to hurt myself, for once.

Nonetheless, my arms and necks are tingling with tiger balm, a healing salve that leaves my skin burning and smelling like eucalyptus. It took forever to find our bags, but an attendant finally reconnected us with them, much to our relief.

It’s good to be on solid land again and amusing to watch people get the runaround after they realize they left something on the ship after having passed through the final exiting checkpoint. The soldiers look very prim and proper in their uniforms and take their responsibilities very seriously, whatever they may be (probably to look prim and proper).

The terminal is emptying out, and a new wave of passengers is arriving for the next cruise of the Celebrity Horizon, departing in just a few hours. In the meantime, the cabins are cleaned and the ship is loaded with fresh water, food and fuel.

As we were waiting to get off the ship, I asked our attendant how he rated the tropical storm we weathered outside of Progresso. He gave it a 50% rating. The tempest was awful but could have been much worse.

Well, I thought the storm was pretty severe, but despite the 40-knot winds and the 30-foot waves, it wasn't like the stuff you see in the movies, though inside the ship felt like a roller coaster.

Looking back, it was a great cruise, the best, even if we didn’t make it to Progresso or Cozumel. The ship was lovely, the service and entertainment were excellent, and the food delicious. Best of all, I return rested and ready for the next leg of my journey, visiting Blaze, Amber, Brian and Daisy in Hollywood Beach, Florida. I’m sure they are impatient, wondering where the hell I am.

Friday afternoon, Dec. 28, 2001

Uncle Mike eventually picked us up and took us back to his condo along the back roads of Miami, avoiding the freeways. As we drove together, Mom and her sister Leah in the back seat and me and my uncle in the front seat, I realized the possibility of our family name’s imminent end and my role in its continuation. “Aside from your cousin in San Francisco, you are the last to bear the family name,” I'm often told.

As we pass through the wretchedly poor barrios of Miami, I cannot think of anybody more ill-suited to raise children than myself. First off, I don’t even like kids. Second, I don’t have a clue how I could assist them financially since I'm barely able to support myself.

There’s something magical about driving through a city with somebody who has known it for decades, seen its rise and fall and knows all the shortcuts. I am so glad Mom and I decided to come to Miami for this could very well be the last time I see my dear Aunt and Uncle, living these final years as the closest of couples. They are such magnificent souls who bravely face the onslaught of the years with courage and grace. And they patiently impart me with their wisdom even now.

Later, in private, I discuss my enlarged prostate with Uncle Mike. He has gone through the same thing and gives me some valuable tips. I tell him about my torso, ravaged by a fungus I picked up on the cruise liner.

He takes me to Walgreens where I buy an over-the-counter medication that clears it up almost immediately. We talk about arthritis, mortgages, real estate; you name it. It’s like talking to my long-departed dad and I just really dig it.

Aunt Leah putters about the kitchen preparing simple, healthy meals for all of us. She is chirping away cheerfully and she blushes when I kiss her. There are moments to be treasured, and I wish they would last forever. Sadly, I know that I must go home, and that life must go on for all of us.

---

This marks the end of the TWENTY-FIRST installment of "The Last Hoorah." If you'd like to start from the beginning, then please click this page.

Thank you for visiting Chucksville.
Please sign my guestbook.

Return to Top of Page

Google search is simple: just type whatever comes to mind in the search box below and hit ENTER or click on the Google Search button. Google will then search the entire chucksville.com website for pages or documents that are relevant to your query!