i stayed at home today. It was Sunday. i think. Didn’t feel like Sunday.

i’ve been in my version of sequester for a fortnight. No symptoms. Just thought what if everyone in the world had stayed in a safe version of sequester for these two weeks just what the statistics would look like. There are enough illogical resisters out there that this thing could go on for years.

How much does the media impact this? They are trying to inform us, but some of their reporting creates panic. How do we fix that? Haven’t fixed it history, and we keep stumbling over our mistakes, get up, and keep moving on as if we never stumbled. Sad.

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My brother Joe is an incredible person. Incredible. His depth and expanse of knowledge is amazing. And he is deep. Deep. And good. Did i mention good?

In a moment of my disillusionment a while ago, Joe suggested i read  an author that might help me get my mind right (Still one of the best lines from “Cool Hand Luke”). Rainer Maria Rilke. I did. Reread him in during this downtime. Caught a passage that sort of screamed at me deep inside:

Why should you want to give up a child’s wise not-understanding in exchange for defensiveness and scorn, since not understanding is, after all, a way of being alone, whereas defensiveness and scorn are a participation in precisely what, by these means, you want to separate yourself from.

And i thought: there is way too much defensiveness and scorn out there. Yet, we seem to thirst for it, enable it, applaud it. We hide it in nationalism, socialism, religion, causes, but it’s there, front and center at every roll call falsely responding “here” as if it belonged. Why?

Joe is so valuable to me and should be to so many people. He has two traits combined that are damn near impossible to find: wisdom and caring. He does not suffer stupid, but he always tries to help. He is religious in the right way.

Thanks, Joe.

As we finished dinner tonight and could not find anything we cared to watch, certainly not the infinite updates ad nauseum about our state of fear and tired of reruns, we caught a streaming of the San Diego Symphony. Ahh…

Don’t know when we spent an evening listening to Tchaikovsky. Nice.

And we, here on our hill in the Southwest corner, near four miles as the crow flies from the Pacific, find all is calm — as the word “pacific” was intended to mean — and being close to only a few can bring understanding and inner peace.

i wish that and good health for all of you.

And quite frankly, i’ve been alone more or less for more than a year several times, mostly at sea, and it ain’t all that bad.

In this dark time (if you are responsible and wish to what is best for you, your family, your friends, and the world) of hunkering down, it can be difficult to adapt. As Hays Mershon pointed out, us old mariners who spent months at sea and even longer periods away from home, have more experience than most when it comes to being isolated on a small ship for long periods of time. Seems to work for me.

But today, as you might discern from my earlier posts, was a birthday. We’ve gotten away from presents between Maureen and i on birthdays. It’s usually a meal at a favorite dining spot, dress up, good food, great atmosphere, and home to bed. That’s about it. But still, under the present conditions, going out for dinner was pretty well shot.

So what should i do?

Well, we started by screwing up her domain: breakfast. i took off for Donny’s Cafe. Donny has a great little place annexed to a bike store. Coffee is the thing, but he and his wife have expanded it into magic breakfasts and great lunches. It’s so good, all the bikers and all the cops go there. But  Donny’s place is closed except for coffee and limited breakfast items for limited morning hours. “Ah, hah,” i said — well actually the “ah, hah” came when i realized i was out of my whole bean Colombian coffee which i grind and make with a French press in my mornings — ordered an asiago bagel and an onion bagel with cream cheese (of course) and an avocado toast. Nice quiet breakfast. Maureen didn’t have to cook and i washed the dishes.

Then in the evening, Sarah and i (and Maureen, she couldn’t keep out of it), we went special. Earlier in the week, Wine Vault and Bistro brainstormed a way to still provide incredible food and wine to their customers. Wine Vault has long been our place to go for special evenings. The atmosphere is perfect, the chef is incredible and the pre-fixe repast with paired wines is absolutely the best. Chris and Mary came up with a plan. They sent out emails to regular customers offering pickup of four magnificent courses and par bread created (and i write “created” purposefully because his stuff is beyond just cooking) by Chef Gregory.

Mid-afternoon, i traveled downtown to the north end of India Street, a food maven’s heaven of cuisines: the iconic El Indio Mexican restaurant with a park of outside tables across the street (El Indio used to be where Marine Major Bruce Brunn and i would hit after a lunch run around Balboa Park for post-run tacos with a Dos Equis in the little park before returning to our flagship); the iconic Blue Water, which is the best seafood deli i’ve ever experienced; the British pub Shakespeare’s, which takes you all the way to England and provides Black and Tan’s, Guinness and Bass Ale, along with the fish and chips or bangers and mash; the Thai special place Saffron; a new American deli; a Japanese Sushi Bar across Washington; and Maureen’s favorite post meal go-to Gelato Vero Caffe, which she claims has the best gelato outside of Rome. Nearly all of these great places are offering take-out at various days and times.

Traffic was almost non-existent, parking was where i chose, both anomalies in this usual glob of vehicles. i picked up our order with a nice six-feet apart conversation with Chris and returned home in record time.

Sarah then took over getting the food prepped and setting the table.. Maureen, unable to keep her gourmet self out of it worked with Sarah on the preps while i felt…well, dispensable. The result:

Sarah found blooms in the yard for the flower arrangements. She got out the high end placemats, the good silverware, the special San Diego Zoo napkin rings, the wooden wine goblets given to us by the legendary Aunt Fran for our wedding gift, the handmade china Maureen bought from an artist when she lived in Monterrey. i brought out the bluetooth and outdated iPod and put Julian Bream on “shuffle,” low volume. And we dined on: Salmorejo (gazpacho-like chilled tomato soup from Spain), Thai Shrimp Curry (a spicy Asian stir fry with a shellfish broth over fragrant jasmine rice),  triple mushroom lasagna (with housemade ricotta and black truffle Béchamel), Cassoulet (with Toulouse sausage, bacon stewed beans, and roasted root vegetables), and that wonderful baked bread.

At the restaurant, we get the pour of the paired wines with each course. Not ready to take on four wines, we selected a bottle of 2017 Margerum “M5” Red Rhone Blend from Santa Barbara.

Damn near a perfect dinner.

Maureen and Sarah settled into the family room to watch the end of a chick-flick comedy thing. i washed the dishes.

i had asked Maureen to name the one movie she would pick to watch if she could only watch one all of the time. She demurred. i mentioned a few i knew she liked plus threw in “Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid” and “Silverado.” She laughed and asked, “What about Monty Python?”

And i said, “Sure, i love “Search for the Holy Grail.”

Being Maureen, she didn’t choose her top pick, she chose “Search for the Holy Grail” because she thought Sarah and i would prefer it.

We all enjoyed until it reached, or rather, the knights reached the Bridge of Death. Maureen declared she ate too much and retired.

It was a lovely birthday day.

Of course, reality struck this morning:

“What did you do with the paperwork for the new blinds?” she asked as she shuffled the the file cabinet in my office.

“i gave them to you,” i said indignantly.

“No, you didn’t,” she shot back.

“Yes, i did.”

“You gave them back the first time, but you took them back to check something,” she responded.

“Yes, but i gave them back to you.”

“No, you didn’t,” she almost shouted as she began to rifle through the mounds of paperwork on my desk much to my annoyance.

“Yes, i did,” i answered haughtily but thinking she had a small chance of being right went out and checked in work room in the garage. No luck.

“They are not out there,” i said upon returning, “i gave them back to you.”

“No, you didn’t.”

This went back and forth a few more times getting more heated after each exchange.

…then, then, she picked up a file out of the cabinet and said in amazement, “Look, here they are.”

i then had several options, and i knew, i knew it made no difference what i said, it was still going to be my fault.

So i said, “See, i told you so.”

She wagged her finger at me with a scowl, laughed her sheepish laugh, and then we both laughed, then hugged and kissed.

Her birthday is over, but it was still my fault.

This is the post for Maureen’s birthday from last year, the annual retelling of how we met.

i included last year’s introduction because it is so true. i also wanted to make a few more comments: i have praised her quite a bit here. She deserves every bit of my praise and very little of my snarky comments. There are two things that shout at me concerning how lucky i am to have her in my life. One, i am pretty sure she is the only one who could have put up with my dark side for all of these years, the bad habits, the snoring, the crazy thoughts i continually announce. But perhaps the best thing about Maureen Renee Boggs Jewell is she loves me in spite of all of those bad habits.

Oh yeh, she is the youngest and prettiest seventy year old i have ever known.

2020 introduction:
It dawned on me this morning as she arose early and ruined my birthday surprise as only Maureen can, i should make this an annual post. This is a love story. It’s true, although we still disagree on some insignificant points, but then again, that’s what happens when the birthday girl of 69 has been married to a goofy guy for near 37 years. And her disruption of plans this morning and the arguments over insignificant points leads to laughter and a hug. Can’t ask for more than that.

Once again, Happy Birthday, Maureen.

In March 1982, i was the Weapons Officer on the USS Okinawa (LPH 3), an amphibious helicopter carrier – For some quirky reason, the department head position was entitled First Lieutenant, which i preferred, on all of the ships of that class, except the Okinawa. My commanding officer was Captain David Rogers, one of the best captains i had on the ten ships on which i served.

Dave was very proud of his ship. He desired it to be the best, and asked me to come up with a way to make our quarterdeck (for landlubbers, this is the main, if not the only entrance to the ship, a ceremonial and practical place for greeting guests coming on board, a check-in, check-out place for officers and crew, and for enforcing security. In short, like the bridge at sea, the quarterdeck is one of the most important places on the ship when moored or anchored.

But on carriers, or at least helicopter carriers like Okinawa, the quarterdeck was located on the hanger deck, one deck below the flight deck. It was a cavernous area for stowing helicopters and performing maintenance. It was not a showy place. That made making the quarterdeck better than all of the others on the waterfront a difficult task.

Okinawa already had a huge red Japanese torii (ornamental gate) we placed on the quarterdeck when in port. But the captain wanted our entrance to be better. That was my challenge.  Finally, a couple of my division officers, CWO4 Boatswain Roger Ellis, and i came up with a solution.  A bosun is the heart of deck departments on large ships. Bosun Ellis was one of the best bosuns around. His wife was a very short and very round Filippino lady who was involved in a lot of department activities, including creating beautiful macramé (she made the lanyard for the boatswain pipe the department gave me for a good-bye present  a year later. It hangs from my Navy brass clock in my home office still).

The Okinawa’s quarterdeck spilled into the hangar bay, a huge but not very attractive space. Guests, while waiting for whomever they had come to visit, had to stand in the area. We decided to buy partitions and make a waiting area with some nice, but durable seating and hang artwork on the partition walls.

Captain Rogers thought that was a marvelous idea. So on Friday, March 12, 1982, Boatswain Ellis and his first class boatswainmate were to include panels in their bi-weekly department shopping run. The boatswainmate had straggly, straw-colored hair, which he combed into as much of a ducktail as a regulation Navy haircut would allow. On these runs the duo wore civvies. Both had on jeans. Bosun Ellis had on a black tee shirt, which did not hide his more than adequate beer belly. His hair, jet-black, was thick and also worn with a hint of a ducktail. The boatswainmate wore a studded black leather biker’s jacket over a white tee shirt. When he took off his jacket, his cigarette case was wrapped in the left sleeve of the tee shirt.

They left the ship about 1400. i had a lot of paperwork and stayed in my department office until well after 1700, more than an hour after liberty call. That’s when the pair returned.

Somewhat surprised to find me, the bosun told me they had gotten all of the needed supplies except for the panels. When i asked why, he explained, “Well, sir, we went to Dixieline Lumber (the local hardware store). They didn’t carry panels. They suggested we try this place downtown, Parron-Hall Office Interiors.

“We went there and it was real fancy, way above our pay grade. But this lady came out and helped us. She was nice and pretty, and I noticed she didn’t have a ring on her left finger.

“But she was way too skinny for me.”

Handing me the brochures he brought back from the lady, he concluded, “So I thought you should go down there and take care of getting the panels.”

On Monday morning, March 15, 1982, i drove downtown and walked into Parron-Hall Office Interiors. The receptionist called for Ms. Boggs. Our first meeting is still disputed. She says i had on my Navy hat. i have never worn my Navy hat indoors and insist my piss cutter was either in my hand or folded in my back pocket. i say she had on a light dress, and i could see her legs silhouetted by the sunlight coming through a window. She says no way.

Regardless, our panel search was finally completed. Somehow i managed to get about five “business lunches” out of the purchase. i hated fraud, waste, abuse, and corruption, and tried hard not to let this beautiful young woman influence me, but i did keep the relationship as friendly as possible. When the purchase was made and the delivery was on the ship, i went to her office for the last administrative check on Thursday.

Then, i asked her if she would like to go see John Lee Hooker at the Belly Up Tavern in Carlsbad that Saturday.

She asked, “Who’s John Lee Hooker?”

i replied, “He’s one of the best blues singers,” and then inquired, “You do like the blues, don’t you?”

She evaded the question by declaring, “I like all kinds of music.”

She then stated i should know she had a “primary relationship.” i asked, “What’s that?” She laughed.

We went to see John Lee at the Belly Up Tavern Saturday night, and then we went back to the Belly Up on Monday to see Doc Watson.

And so it began.

As to why i was attracted to her, she was beautiful but the realization we could have a relationship that lasted for a long time came to me on a special night the following autumn.

We had been out for dinner uptown, not in La Jolla, which was most often our preference. For some reason, we were driving around Kensington, an upscale neighborhood. We passed a beautiful ravine, and i parked. We just talked about many things in the short stop, and she talked of her beliefs. It struck me hard that she and i had incredibly similar views about living the right way. The more we were together the more i recognized how caring she was without a mean bone in her body.

And then, she sent me flowers. It was probably a first. A florist delivery truck pulled up on the pier and  the driver delivered a rather impressive floral array to the quarterdeck.

“These are for Commander Jewell,” he said. They were delivered. i became a shipboard legend. This rather incredibly beautiful woman had sent flowers to Commander Jewell.

Then i got orders across the country to the USS Yosemite (AD 19) in late summer, which would deploy across the world to the Indian Ocean. She voiced concern about our relationship lasting so far apart. So i asked her to marry me. She said yes.

Before i left, she gave me some photos of her. One of her bosses, Bob Long, was also a very good photographer and had a shooting session with her. My favorite was enlarged, framed and hung on the bulkhead of my shipboard office. It is now above the desk in my home office.

She was beautiful. Still is.

It is late.

All the lights except the reading light above my chair are off. Maureen went to bed to read. She will be asleep now. i can no longer read more than two paragraphs in bed without falling to sleep. That is why i am in this chair.

i will not write my usual thousand-plus words here tonight. i may do that tomorrow to honor her. She deserves honor. After all, she has put up with me going on 37 years.

No words, even though i might attempt it tomorrow, can express how much i love this lady.

She is beautiful inside and out. She is caring. She is loving. She’s a little crazy. She has a great laugh.

We are a great fit. You bring me joy.

Happy 69th Birthday tomorrow, my beautiful Maureen.

i love you.

The other day, i received a Facebook post with a digital story telling from a young friend…well, she’s younger than me, but that is becoming just about everybody. Regardless, the story was impressive, and i dwelt on how to write something about what a wonderful and caring person she was and remains.

i considered our get together from a couple of years ago. i was pretty much retired, and she was planning for retirement when we met, and sort of got to that stage. But not really. We both still have things to accomplish. The dinner we shared with spouse and friends was delightful. Then we had coffee on a Sunday morning. We caught up. Her accomplishments are remarkable and in keeping with her caring.

Then, i remembered our past. i began an email to my family: wife, daughters, son-in-law, brother and his wife, sister and her husband. Then i changed my mind.i thought she might find it embarrassing, maybe even a little offensive, especially considered the status she has obtained. So i asked for her permission to tell the story.