The Gamble Family (.Net)

The story of Snow Globe Santa began in December 1975.  My wife and I had been married about a year.  I was in the U.S. Navy and in the process of begin transferred from Great Lakes, IL to Patuxent River, MD.  My salary was a meager $200 twice a month (after taxes).  The Navy allowance for moving was a whopping $86.  With that $86, I had to put a trailer hitch on our car, rent a U-Haul trailer, and pay for gas and hotels while we made the three-day trip.

During the final week of our stay at Great Lakes, my wife was in the Base Exchange and came across a plastic snow globe Santa.  The price was 99 cents.  Since we were doing everything we could to save money for the move, Cheryl looked at Santa and then sadly put him back on the shelf.  Two more times she went back, picked him up, and put him back on the shelf - too afraid to spend the money that we didn’t have.  Well, she finally gave in on the fourth time back to the shelf and put him in the shopping cart.  To this day, Cheryl can’t really explain the attraction to that plastic Santa, but for some reason, he wound up on our possession.

On our trip from Great Lakes to Pax River, as soon as we checked into a hotel, snow globe Santa was the first thing that got unpacked.  Since we were making the move during late December, we had no Christmas decorations, so snow globe Santa seemed to be the only thing that kept us in the Christmas spirit during that lonely trip.

Over the 34 years that Cheryl and I have been together, this little plastic Santa has had a place of honor on our mantle each and every Christmas when we decorate our home.  We had a moment of panic this year though, because after having unpacked all of the decorations, finishing the tree, and putting everything out, we noticed that snow globe Santa was not on the mantle.  We immediately looked in all of the boxes for him, but he was nohere to be found.  It wasn’t until I looked in a box for the third time that I found him hiding in a box (which was not his usual safe spot).  Cheryl and I both breathed a sigh of relief, and smiled at each other as we placed in on the mantle for his annual Christmastime duties.

Over the years, the liquid in Santa’s round belly has evaporated and turned brown.  I decided this year that I would perform a very risky, but necessary fluid transplant.  I searched the internet to see what liquid should be used to heal our ailing patient.  Just about every article that I read said to use distilled water.  So, off to Walgreen’s I went to get the life-saving liquid that our Santa so desperately needed.

Once I returned with the surgical supplies, I laid our patient out on the kitchen counter for his surgery.  I carefully drilled a small hole in his lower backside.  Once I did that, I was able to drain all of the harmful brown liquid out, along with the snow particles (which has also turned a light shade of brown).  I carefully rinsed the snow with clean water and restored them to their near original whiteness.  I also filled and rinsed Santa’s tummy to remove as much of the “harmful infection” as possible before restoring his internal parts.  All during Santa’s delicate surgery, Cheryl paced nervously in the kitchen, looking over my shoulder frequently, wondering if Santa would pull through.  After being satisfied that he was safe for replenishment, I put the snow back in his tummy little by little, and then used a hypodermic to refill him with clean, clear distilled water.  After completing the delicate procedure, I sutured him up with epoxy.  I’m happy to report that snow globe Santa looks almost as good as new, except for the small scar on his backside, which hopefully will heal over time.  I’m guessing that he will be able to continue his prestigious duties on our mantle for many years to come.

Snow Globe Santa’s Incision

Snow Globe Santa After the Surgery

Snow Globe Santa With Snow In His Tummy

 Merry Christmas to you all.

I called in sick today.  I had a serious case of the East Tennessee Tristy Flu, also known as Dragon Fever.  In other words, I was having withdrawals from the Tail of the Dragon.  It has been over a year since I last tamed my favorite stretch of highway.  At least once a year, I make a trip to east Tennessee to ride the famous “318 curves in 11 miles”, the Tail of the Dragon.

Our son, Chris, has recently moved to Maryville, TN, which is located only 20 miles from the north end of the Dragon.  I called him last night and asked if he’d like to meet me for a “big boy play day” on the twisties.  Chris has a supercharged Chevy Cobalt and I have a Honda Gold Wing.  Both of these vehicles are made for the curves and switchbacks of the Dragon.

I left Murfreesboro for the 2 1/2 hour ride to Maryville at 6:30 in the morning on the freshly polished Wing, aka “Wind Dancer”.  I hooked up with Chris about half way between Maryville and the Dragon.  After a brief rest, and some catching up, we headed south on US 129 towards curve nirvana.  Just before heading out, I mentioned Chris that “the mom” made me promise that I would be good today. We both smiled at each other because there are some things that he and I get into that are better just kept between him and me. We both had already figured that today would probably entail a few things of which he and I agree that mom would be better off just not knowing about. It’s what he and I jokingly refer to as one of those “don’t tell mom” things.

The road to the Dragon is a joy in and of itself. You encounter lots of quick rises that are followed by sharp right or left hand turns. After a few miles, the road eases up a bit as it runs beside Tellico Lake. This gives you a chance for one last bit of calm and tranquility, and an opportunity to gather your thoughts for what your are about to experience. The main indicator that you have arrived at the Dragon is where the road takes an abrupt left and leaves the lake’s coastline.  Here at Tabcat Creek Bridge, you put your game face on, for the Dragon awaits his duel with you.

Map of the Dragon

For the next 12 miles, Chris and I fought the Dragon for all this treachurous old beast threw at us.  I scraped my footpegs more times that I could count as I pushed Wind Dancer through the 318 curves.  We made three passes through the Dragon.  Traffic was light, which made it just that much more fun.  As we completed our third pass and headed south past Fugitive Dam, I couldn’t help but notice that I as soaking wet with sweat and that my heartrate was up quite a bit.  The Dragon has that effect on me everytime I challenge him.  This road is not for beginners, and it is not forgiving.

Wind Dancer and Me on the Dragon

Chris on the Dragon

We continued down US 129 towards Robbinsville, NC on our way across the Cherohala Skyway (also known as The Mile-High Legend) towards Tellico Plains, TN.  But, just before we reached Robbinsville, we made the obligatory stop at Wheeler’s to pick up a new t-shirt.  From Wheeler’s, we made our way to Robbinsville, and across the 45 miles of the Cherohala.  The Cherohala is a wonderful highway.  The road consists of an endless supply of wide open sweepers, spectacular views, and elevation changes that range from 900 feet to over 5,390 feet above sea level.  The temperature was around 90 degrees at the lower elevations, but down to 65 degrees at the top.  We stopped for a while at the top to take in the cool temperature and a view that will humble even the most arrogant of beings.

Near the end of the Cherohala, just before arriving at Tellico Plains, we stopped for a late lunch at a nice deli. On the back of the deli is a wooden deck that overlooks a beautiful stream.  Here, we ate, enjoyed the view, and reflected on the fun that we had just experienced.  After lunch, Chris and I said our goodbyes, as he headed back to Maryville and I turned Wind Dancer west towards The ‘Boro.

This was a wonderful day, for it was a day that I got to visit my favorite roads in east Tennessee and a day to share some very special moments with my son.

I shall take this opportunity to borrow from the bible and shout “Tetelestai!”

This past week, we paid off the mortgage on our home. My wife and I seem to be among the fortunate few that are actually able to live in a home for nearly 20 years and pay for it - completely. In a time when the mortgage industry is in shambles, this does indeed seem rare that a mortgage gets satisfied. Couples seem to get lured into the new “creative financing” arrangements available and find themselves in ballooning debt with no hope of financial survival other than to default on a loan and surrender their American Dream.

I find this situation tragic. I blame the mortgage industry for coming up with financial arrangements that allow people to purchase a home without the real financial ability of making the payments once those mortgages begin to balloon. I also blame the people that are being suckered into these arrangements. Why would anyone in their right mind take on a $1,000 monthly payment, knowing that in five years that their payments will balloon to over $1,700? I hear over and over of people having purchased a home that they could barely afford with the $1,000 monthly payment, much less the expected increase to $1,700. Have people become so financially ignorant that they can’t do the simple arithmetic and realize that they are destined for financial failure?

My wife and I have been fortunate in our 33+ years together that we have never accumulated debt that we could not handle. If we didn’t have the money to buy something (except for the house and automobiles), we simply did without that particular item. This is not to say that we did not purchase “nice things” along the way, but we were always careful to never over-extend our budget unecessarily.

Call us “Old School” if you must, but at the end of each day, we hold each other’s hands and gaze into each other’s eyes as we sit quietly in OUR house.

This has been a year of drought, both for our nation and for our family. The dry Summer and Fall have drained precious water from the farmers and their crops. Areas of the south have seen critical water sources dry up, only to leave large ears of dry parched earth. My wife and I have also undergone a year of drought in our lives.

In early March, my mom died. She had been in an assisted living facility for almost exactly two years, when one Friday they called and said that they thought that mom had contracted a virus. We checked on her that evening, and saw nothing that caused us to be concerned. On Saturday, she showed neither signs of improvement nor deterioration, so we still were not alarmed. Early Sunday morning, however, we were woken by a call saying that she was unresponsive. We immediately got up and took her to the emergency room. It was obvious from the moment that I first saw her on Sunday morning that she was in trouble. She had a blank, far-away stare in her eyes, and she was unable to stand on her own. At the hospital, we were told that it appeared that she had some type of lower GI infection that perhaps a perforated colon. Mom was 84 years old, and given her rapidly deteriorating condition, I elected not to put her through any surgery from which it was likely that she would not recover. Just before 4 AM on Monday, March 5, mom left this earth and joined my dad in Heaven.

In mid-May, Cheryl’s mom began leaking spinal fluid through her scalp in an area where she had undergone radiation treatments for cancer 12 years earlier. This began a series of five hospital visits in which she would undergo several procedures to put in a shunt to drain the fluid into her abdomen, along with other attempts to get her scalp to heal. To make matters worse, during the past couple of years, Cheryl’s father has lost at least 60% of his motor skills, which means that he needs assistance to do just about anything from eating to walking, to everything in between. So, whenever her mom was in the hospital, Cheryl had to stay with her father to help him through each day. This resulted in her using all of her vacation and sick days at work, which means that we had no time this year for our much enjoyed motorcycle trips.

As I write this post tonight, Cheryl is again in Kentucky - this time, with her father. He was put in the hospital last evening with internal bleeding. For now, we still don’t know the cause, nor what to expect in the days ahead.

Our wells of inner strength seem to have been drained to the point of drought this year, and it appears that there is no rain in the forecast for quite some time.

This past weekend, my wife and I took a trip to Robbinsville, NC to celebrate her “18th” birthday. We spent the weekend in our favorite bed and breakfast, the Blue Waters Mountain Lodge. The lodge is nestled in the foothills of the Great Smoky Mountains and it sits directly across the road from Lake Santeetlah, which is a 3,500 acre man-made fresh water lake.

We left home around 9 AM on Friday morning on our way to breakfast at the Cracker Barrel in Lebanon, TN. After a satisfying feast of biscuits and gravy, country ham, bacon, grits, and eggs, we started east towards North Carolina. The forecast for the day was mid-70s and sunny.

When we arrived at Tellico Plains (the start of the Cherohala Skyway), we dropped the top on the BMW so that we could experience all that nature had to offer as we drove the 45 miles from Tellico Plains to Robbinsville on the mile-high skyway. Most of the trees had emptied themselves of their autumn color, but there was still a nice amount of fall foliage to catch our eye. The drive across the Cherohala with the top down was totally enjoyable.

We stopped along the way to visit Bald River Falls, which are located 6 miles off of the Skyway, down a little mountain road. The road runs beside a stream, and it is very tranquil as you drive back to the falls along the twisty road with mountains on both sides.

Bald River Falls

We arrived at Blue Waters around 4:30, which gave us a couple of hours to unpack and relax on the front porch before dinner. After dinner, Cheryl and I went down to the lakeshore, built a fire, and watched the starts twinkle in the clear sky overhead. When you are out away from city lights, you can see so many more stars then you do in town. On this night, the sky was filled from horizon to horizon with what seemed like millions of sparkling jewels. The quiet stillness and peace of sitting under God’s expanse in total darkness and silence is simply to enormous to put into words.

Sunset on Lake Santeetlah

On Saturday, Cheryl and I took a ride on the Smoky Mountain Railroad. The train took us from Bryson City, NC into the Nantahala Gorge. The trip lasted about four and a half hours. The weather was chilly with drizzling rain, but the ride was still very enjoyable. It gets very difficult to stay awake as the cars gently rock from side to side and the wheels “clickity clack” as you roll along.

Smoky Mountain Railroad

When we returned to Blue Waters, we got all gussied up and had a totally mind-blowing dinner at the Snowbird Mountain Lodge. After dinner, we returned to Blue Waters and spent the remainder of the evening enjoying a cozy fire in front of the huge stone fireplace.

On our trip home Sunday, I decided that it was time for Cheryl to tackle the 318 curves in 11 miles that make up the famous “Tail of the Dragon”. If you search this site, you can find out more information and photos of what I’m referring to. Anyway, we left Blue Waters and headed north on US 129 towards the Dragon. As we passed Tapoco Lodge, I reminded Cheryl that “this is where it starts”. For the next 15 or so miles, I sat back and watched as Cheryl pushed the BMW through the tight swithback curves that the Dragon is known for. Several times along the way I could feel the back end start to ease out slightly as we went from left turn, to right turn, back to left turn. I think I even caught a smile on her face every now and then as I watched her trying to tame the Dragon.

It was a great weekend for us to get away. We got to spend some time alone, with no TV, no cell phones, no computers - just us, together, in one of the most beautiful places that we have ever found.