Big-league soccer returned to Chapel Hill on Tuesday with a friendly match between Manchester City and Celtic FC. The rain storms stayed away and the night was beautiful. Our family and cousins (including one who flew in from Idaho after many delays caused by the global IT issue) filled 9 seats not far from the pitch, and we enjoyed the game. Celtic was victorious 4-3.
It did rain later that night, so the next morning I went slowly up the gravel drive. Sure enough, there was a box turtle to document. This one had massive scars from some traumatic injury in the past.
Erin took a quick trip to Boston for a conference and was back late Friday night, so we planned a date for Saturday, a wine tasting at nearby Rocks & Acid Wine Shop. The wines were Italian, cold and light and refreshing, with some tasty food by the chef of Chapel Hill restaurant Osteria Georgi (one of our new favorites). After that, we walked two doors up to Market & Moss for dinner, then across the street to see the entertaining Twisters (a good short Atlantic article about the director here). We walked halfway home, came upon friends, chatted until Anna drove up to take us there rest of the way.
There’s a scene in Twisters, toward the end, where the main character Kate is standing on a bluff, a river below and a storm in the distance. That was so close to a memory I have: I’m in Mississippi Palisades State Park, looking across the river to Iowa as the sky darkens. My prom date and our friends got into our car for the drive home but were stopped by the storm — a tornado, we were to learn. In 2005 I blogged about that tornado memory. In May of this year, I found a site with historical tornado data and I was able to confirm my memory: an EF01 twister on May 8, 1988 just east of Oregon, Illinois. (I recently recounted that memory in a therapy session as I explored fear and my various responses.)
My 2005 blog post also mentions “steady gales that tried to blow me off the top of the Oahu pali.” I lived in Honolulu after college, and in December 1992 a high school friend came to visit. We joined the hiking club for the strenuous Puu Heleakala hike on the Waianae coast. The winds at the top made me nervous, but it was the blister from my new hiking boots that would get infected and send me to the hospital for a shot of penicillin.
This week I firmed up my plans for a September visit to Chicago and DeKalb. I’ll join my cousins for “An evening with Goose” (a jam band, read this Atlantic profile) at the Salt Shed, meet a college buddy for dinner, then head west to visit relatives in DeKalb, where I spent my high school years. Looking at a map to confirm a memory of where I played pick-up soccer on summer evenings, I noticed there’s a “seed to spirit” bourbon distillery south of town called Whiskey Acres, and as I learned more about the farming family behind the distillery, I realized that I know that “fifth-generation farmer and self-proclaimed ‘recovering attorney’ turned distiller” — Jamie Walter is the friend who hiked with me to the top of Puu Heleakala.
In work Slack this week I posted this:
Librarians are the best! I wanted to confirm a childhood memory so contacted the librarian at the university in my home town. Asked and answered. I regularly contact the Duke librarians for help. Remember them, and thank them!
I’ll add here my thanks to the librarians at UH Manoa for digitizing the Honolulu Weekly, that wonderful newsweekly that helped me make the most of my time in Honolulu. (I was able to confirm the hike details in the Dec. 16, 1992 issue).
Oliver joined me for pick-up soccer Wednesday night (soggy and sloppy) and this morning (hot but we played long). I had a perfect view up the field to watch him take the ball, dribble and juke his way toward goal, then curve a shot into goal, a bit like Oscar Bobb for Manchester City in Kenan Stadium on Tuesday (Bobb signed Oliver’s City jersey at a pre-match event).
© Anton Zuiker