Good-Bye Bermuda, Love Laurie and André

Well, we didn't have the big Beach Party Send-Off  I had planned, but perhaps this is better.  I don't particularly like good-byes.  Besides, I keep running into so many people that I know many of you are already saying "You're still here?"    How to remember and encapsulate a whole  year's worth of experience?  Punctured eardrum, 2 injured elbows, a tangle with a Portuguese Man O' War, Sea Lice Infestation, lost teeth--all true, but although amusing, perhaps, not really representative.   Feral chickens, giant cockroaches, trails of ants, leaping lizards, giant toads.  Social ills, challenging school system, troubled kids, delightful children, loving parents, fun teaching, good teachers. Weddings, birthdays, illness, funerals, good-byes. Hot sun, heavy  humidity, high prices, hurricanes, house-sits. Black and blue elbows, turquoise water, pink sand, red hibiscus, yellow frangipani, green palm trees.  Delicious food, amazing fish fry, peas and rice, molly cake, rum, shrunken clothing.  Panto, set building, drop painting, backstage antics.  Sisters, swimming,  snorkelling, sailing, scootering, shopping, sunning, Sloop, Swizzling. Fishing, parties, dinner,  singing, Cup-Match, Non-Mariners, Easter,  French Group, Daylesford, Quiz Night. Family, friends, laughter, fun, visitors,welcome.

That about does it.  What more can be said except thank you to all of you who welcomed us, included us, housed us and made us laugh.  We  have felt like a part of your families in some cases.  Coming here was part whim, part adventure, and a lot of missing my big sister.  We have learned to live another kind of life and mostly how to spend most of our time having fun!  I have had the gift of a whole year with my sister and I treasure it.  We have made life-long friends and have gathered enough stories to bore our Canadian friends for years.  What more can we ask of a Bermudian Adventure?

Being here for a year enabled us to get a glimpse into the 'real' Bermuda not seen by tourists.  It is easy to  sink into the despair of politics, budgets, government decision-making and social ills.  All of that may be true, but so is an amazing environment that needs protection, people with a true joy and kindness, a natural beauty like nowhere else.  We have been so fortunate to  have been here.  There is always room for improvement, but there is so much that is still wonderful.  For God's Sake, get to the beach  you people--the water is warm!!!!!

We will miss all of you. We will visit again. And we will keep the back bedroom empty for when you visit.

To Pee, or Not to Pee

I expected to encounter different customs, cultures, language and such in a foreign country, but somehow it is the natural world around me that I find myself marvelling at.   Even the worst day (which is still not bad!) can be cured by driving by a palm tree or seeing the turquoise water.  It is the seemingly small things that I notice, now. I am fascinated by the plants. Did you know that avocados grow on trees--in the backyard??? We can pick papaya--or paw paw as they are called here. Bananas are ubiquitous, but good luck getting carrots. Apparently the Great Carrot Blight wiped out the crop and now it is illegal to import anything but frozen carrots. They grow them here, but when the season is over, so are the carrots. All the money I spent on tropical houseplants over the years and those very plants are quite literally weeds here. Although most of the plants and trees are not endemic to Bermuda, they certainly are pretty! There are blossoms all year round--hibiscus hedges, poinciana trees, oleander, frangipani. 

Hey Bye--How much to cross de rood?

 There are no squirrels scampering across the street.  There are, however, feral chickens and cats everywhere.  An interesting combination. Cocks do not just crow at dawn, by the way--and they lose their charm pretty darned quickly. I am not kept awake by the screech of the crows early in the morning, but  by the amazingly loud chirp of the tree frogs all freakin' night long. It sounds like 14 trucks are backing up in the bedroom--all from a frog the size of my fingernail. We don't watch the raccoons frolicking in the backyard, but we have named the lizards.

 As is the way with nosy mankind, in an effort to eradicate one thing, something else was brought in and so on.  So now we are surrounded by the  lovely kiskadee.  It is yellow, pretty and pretty loud.        

There are no natural  predators on the Island. Danger primarily comes from the road.  So the chickens have the run of the place, the lizards continue  to stick their tongues out at everyone, the frogs simply mock us all night long.    Even in the sea inside the reef you will not encounter sharks and the like. I have seen barracuda occasionally but they are much maligned.

Around  March, however, resembling for all the world like blue condoms floating on top of the water, the Portuguese Man O' War litter the beaches. Of course, no self-respecting Bermudian would be swimming at that time of year anyway. Like  the proverbial iceberg, there is much to worry about beneath the surface.   Not actually a jellyfish, these things pack enough venom to actually kill someone, although that is rare.  It is more likely that for a brief period of time, a victim simply wishes she were dead. But sometimes in the middle of Summer, when our defences are down and we bob along in water that is the same warm temperature as the air, and the winds have been steadily from the West, sometimes we find ourselves hunted by the dreaded Portuguese Man O' War.

Rather than choosing a Cruise Ship tourist, (he doesn't want to hurt an already lagging tourist industry) who would appreciate having a great adventure story to relate in a bar somewhere in New Jersey. "Fuggedaboudit.  I'm tellin' youse it was in the wahtah and it was ginahwmous. I thought I was bein' moidered, I tell ya!"  Instead he lays in wait for the unsuspecting resident snorkeller, one with only 2 weeks left in Bermuda before returning home to Canada and who has not had a trip to the hospital in several months.  Although it is worthy of note that the tourists did generously offer to pee on me.  I declined.  It turns out there is a specific treatment protocol that does not involve urinating on people, although  it would seem that I did not follow that protocol and somehow manged to encourage millions of nematocysts left by the tentacles to fire into me all at once and to keep firing toxin for several hours. So for the first little while, it is excruciating, burning pain.  And then the itching begins. You would think that something that looks so much like a condom should offer a little protection from things that cause itching.

As you can see from the title, I was inspired by a lovely evening watching the Bermuda Music and Drama Society's  production of Much Ado About Nothing (shameless plug) last night through a haze of painkillers. I'm sure that there are those who thought it might be about jellyfish stings, until they saw my arm.    Perhaps I should have entitled this  "To sleep, perchance to dream. Ay, there's the rub."  Methinks Hamlet must have encountered a Portuguese Man O' War. Now I long for the sweet lullaby of tree frogs or the gentle air conditioner to lull me to sleep, because there are not enough drugs, steroids, or ice to STOP THIS ITCHING!!!!!!

Who is Steering the Ship?

And so I have completed a year of teaching.  A year of teaching French.  A year of teaching Middle School.  A year of teaching in Bermuda. And I have survived! When I decided to do this, I naively believed that returning to the classroom would be easy and that my experience would enable me to do well in any environment. I wouldn't say I was wrong, exactly; but I sure wasn't right, either. I would call this year a success for a variety of reasons. I have encountered wonderful teachers, adorable children, I have been able to put my expertise to work, and I have learned from my failures—oh, yes, there were failures! And stories, lots and lots of stories.  Perhaps I will save those for the next blog. What I did not factor in was how difficult it is to move forward when the rudder keeps changing with the wind, or perhaps has a few too many rudders, or sails, or some other boating metaphor for a tangle of bureaucracy so large it sinks any ship that tries to move ahead.

 As part of ending my contract, I was asked to complete a written exit interview.  Below are some of the comments that I included (after I received my final paycheque, of course!)  I was told by other guest workers (non-Bermudians) to not write this.  Most believe that it will do no good, and many worry about the renewal of their work permit or contract--because yes,  that kind of outspokenness will impact your immigration status here.  Well, I have my plane ticket in hand, so... This is where my naiveté or perhaps my Pollyanna outlook come in.  I figure that if someone is asking, then they really want to know. I can see my Administrator colleagues cringing already. Suffice to say that the context is important to consider.  So here is my somewhat varnished and edited response.

5. Would you consider returning to the Bermuda Public School System? If yes, under what circumstances and in what type of position?

I would answer with a cautious and qualified ‘yes’. In my 25 years in education, I have taught in various disciplines and Districts and for the past 5 years I have been a Vice-Principal in a very large high school. Having been in a leadership role for much of my career, I always look for the ways to improve things. It has been humbling and instructive to not be in a leadership role at all.

I have never experienced the frustration, negative behaviours and most importantly, the lack of achievement of students that I have this year. I have spent a lot of time trying to determine why. I have included my observations and thoughts below and I sincerely hope that it is read with the intention with which it was written. I care about these students and I know that all those involved in Education do as well. I am at a loss to explain why some fundamental things cannot be changed in order to better serve their needs when I see so much expertise and passion around me. I have worked with strong teachers here, dedicated teachers, and teachers willing to put a great deal of time and energy into these children. I have watched the political landscape and have seen the glimmers of positive change and difficult decision-making. I have high hopes for the Public Education System which many seem to think is ‘broken’. Sadly, I have also seen a shocking lack of follow- through on initiatives, promises, support and even student consequences. What I hear most is ‘You’ll get used to it’ and ‘This is the way Bermuda is’. I don’t believe that, but I am concerned about the defeatist attitude that is pervasive.

Sadly, the people I have met in Bermuda have no confidence in the Public Education System. I have seen many positive things, strong teachers and capable leaders trying to do their best in a building whose windows have been broken all year and I have been told have been broken for at least 10 years in some cases; washrooms that have no doors on the stalls for the children; washrooms that are filthy, despite the best efforts of staff; toilet seats missing; water not fit to drink; air-conditioning that does not function; shutters that hang off windows; broken tiles; peeling paint; exposed wiring; fields that are not maintained; door locks that don’t work; a lack of basic teaching necessities. The teachers at Whitney work hard and do what they can—but the building is literally falling down around their ears. It is hard to do one’s best when all around us are reminders that this building—and by extension – we, don’t matter. 

 I come from  a system in which most classes have 30-32 students, classes with fewer than 20 students are cancelled, and teachers have 1 out of 8 periods as a prep—meaning 1-2 classes per week --and we have a very high level of achievement. This year I had classes of 2, 4, and 7 students—the largest class being 16 students. I taught for less than 60% of the periods; one day a week I taught only one class. Besides a significant financial drain, I would think my time and those of my colleagues would be better utilized. With such small classes one would assume that achievement would be higher, but there seems to be an inverse relationship. I don’t know the ins and outs of the contract and what it would entail, but using teacher time more effectively than by scheduling so much meeting time—that is not always used effectively --seems to not be working.

I did not find that communication was particularly effective either in the school or in the system. New teachers to Bermuda are not given enough information or personal contact. Events, changes and initiatives are in the paper before the teachers who are actually a part of them are informed. Policies are implemented without consultation, information or rationale. Phone numbers and e-mail addresses for parents are out of date. There is little personal communication beyond an occasional school-wide e-mail. School events—assemblies, field trips are planned or communicated last-minute or the day of; parents are not notified of upcoming events; a huge amount of class time is lost. Even today, I came to school for the 8:30 staff meeting that we had been told about only to find that it was moved to 9:00 and that I did not need to attend. 

But it is the students that I keep coming back to. These are all children with huge potential. Because the Bermuda Education System has essentially become privatized, it is no surprise that those who remain in the public system are those that have more challenges—either financially, socially or cognitively. With so much knowledge, research and experience on this Island and abroad—why are these students not succeeding? Most students have significant behavioural issues—and it is not their fault. Too many blame students and parents. We cannot change parenting styles, or the social ills that are becoming pervasive. I would respectfully suggest the focus of the Ministry of Education be on Education—qualified teachers, classroom instruction, a strong student support program for those with learning difficulties, classroom and school behaviour management, rather than on the social programs.  

I was excited at the New Teacher Orientation to hear about the assessment practices. This is an area about which I am passionate and knowledgeable. Sadly, the system in no way supports what I heard last August. There was much talk about formative assessment—hurrah! However there are so many summative reporting periods, pre-set weights and values, changes mid-year in reporting and calculation; ZERO information on how summative grades are calculated—that formative assessment is not even possible. I was actually told to include and count my formative assessments in the grade book—this is categorically the opposite of what it should be! I have been told that there are Principals that actually require homework to be a summative reporting category. I read an announcement from the Ministry of Education about the need for common formative assessments.This is fundamentally contrary to the purposes of formative assessment. I can only hope that it was a misprint and not a complete misunderstanding. As a teacher, I was unable to discover how grades are determined, if all quarters are weighted equally, if grades are changeable, if grades are cumulative, and I was not able to even see what the final grades of my students were—only their quarter grades. So now a student’s grades are determined mathematically and not by whether or not they have met the learning outcomes of the program because formative assessments are included, rather than being used for feedback.

There is a lack of consistency in approach to classroom expectations, school expectations. I have honestly never seen children behave so poorly. And again, it is not the fault of the children. They will behave as we teach them to behave. We all say and agree what we want and what we should do, but no one seems to follow through. Students who misbehave are not remediated well, correctly or consistently. When there is a misbehaviour, the child, or worse, the whole group, is yelled at,spoken down to, put down and threatened, but not actually taught how to behave properly. They are clearly too young or have not yet reached moral development and so they still respond to behavioural consequences—except there aren’t any. The behaviours of students are not ‘high level/high risk’, but are so pervasive that it is almost impossible to conduct a class. I see teachers give up on trying making a difference because they do not feel supported in helping these kids. The frustration becomes evident when teachers begin to talk about corporal punishment or retention as valid options. Although I do not believe that suspension (or corporal punishment!) is a typically viable option for misbehaving students—I do believe (as an experienced vice-principal) that when the behaviour of a child so greatly impacts the rest of the school, either by thwarting the learning or by example to other students—then there needs to be an option of sending that child home briefly to find a soloution or to a short term location in which their behaviours are better managed and remediated--especially for those who have great need of counselling services.

Student skill level is very low. They perform reasonably well short term in class with a lot of teacher attention but most do not seem able to work independently at all. As soon as any kind of challenge presents itself, most students simply give up. Many students do not complete work. I am not talking about homework—because that is a very large philosophical issue—homework should only be to practice those skills learned in class. Teachers quickly learn that homework is not a viable option. Even basic in-class work does not get done. There is professional development in the realm of differentiating instruction, but these students do not know how to follow even the simplest classroom expectations. All the abilities of fine teachers in showing them how to do this is for nought when there is zero support, follow-through or help from the numerous members of the leadership team. These students have not yet learned by Middle School how to work independently, in groups; how to break up tasks; how to take pride in their work, how to simply listen attentively. They have been brow-beaten by being told it is all about the exams—the standardized tests—never about the learning. They do not see the value in what they do. Although I do not agree with retention unless the student is taught in a different way by a different teacher, they know that they will all pass regardless of how, or whether, they actually achieve.

I have appreciated the opportunity to engage in professional dialogue. I have appreciated the help I have received from all those in HR who were so helpful as the various difficulties with work permits, travel arrangements and so on were ironed out. The people of Bermuda are wonderful. The teachers have been welcoming. The children have been delightful in so many ways and heart-breaking in so many others. I truly love Bermuda and would dearly love to return. I see the world through the lens of change and how to improve things; I hope my comments are seen in that light. I recognize that in my short time here there is much I don’t know about the history, traditions, culture and programs of Bermuda. I have seen many people wanting to make a positive impact on children. I hope it continues.

So to quote Oprah, ‘What do I know for sure?”  Teaching is hard.  Teaching Middle School is really hard--okay, and a little fun.  Kids need good, dedicated teachers.   Bermuda kids really need good, dedicated teachers. Teachers need good, dedicated administrators. Sometimes we think that  even if our boss, our company, our environment is poor, that we can close our door and still do a good job.  What hubris.  Someone needs to set the course and steer the boat--let the teachers and students do the hard work.  We're ready.

The Spirit of Bermuda

Last week may have been the best week I have spent so far in Bermuda. I was asked at the last minute to chaperone a group of 13 year old girls on a 5 day sailing trip aboard the Spirit of Bermuda, a 110 ft. tall ship (sloop). Needless to say I jumped at the chance. André struggled with being the supportive husband and being happy for me to being positively green with jealousy. I was concerned with turning green from seasickness. I have certainly spent many wonderful times on boats, but my sailing has mostly been limited to sitting on the aft deck with a drink in one hand and a bowl of cheesie poofs in the other. Being trapped on a ship with 21 adolescent girls is not everyone’s idea of a fun time—honestly it wasn’t mine either, but I was willing to make the sacrifice to get out on the water.

The whole idea of the trip is to provide middle school children with an opportunity to learn more about their home, to experience teamwork and responsibility while sailing around Bermuda for 5 days. The Bermuda Sloop Foundation, which commissioned the Spirit in 2006, splits the cost with the Ministry of Education to give every single child the opportunity. It has since been scaled down to 2 groups from each school. Despite the enormous costs involved, I have never been part of such an educationally valuable experience for kids. From the get-go, the students are the crew. They are shown how to do something and are expected to carry it out. They set the sails, reef the main, work the winches, pilot the ship, put in 2 hour anchor watches all night all under the eyes of the watch commanders—a group of young sailors who know the ship and understand students. Teachers have the option of participating fully or simply enjoying the ride. It was all I could do not to elbow the kids out of the way so I could do it all! I was hauling on the halyard, setting the battens and I’m not sure how many opportunities in my life will require me to tie a flying bowline, but I am ready when it happens.

You would think a bunch of 13 year old girls would complain about the amount of work, lack of down time, lack of junk food, lack of TV and cell phones, lack of privacy, time to do their hair (although miraculously they seemed to find time for this anyway. It would appear from the photos that I did not), not having their own room or even their own bunk. They were required to ‘hot bunk’ as there are always several crew on night watch, so they trade bunks with each shift. These girls rose to the challenges and responsibility given them. It was a sight to behold. They were the crew.

We went snorkelling on a shipwreck. Shipwreck is also an appropriate description of trying to get me into a wetsuit. I swear once they got that suit zipped up my head grew 3 sizes. As God is my witness, I will never wear Spanks again! Snorkelling was the absolute highlight for me. Many of the girls found the water cold and a couple were non-swimmers and were scared witless. They have since become my heroes—diving right in and grabbing my hands and swimming along with me the entire time—pointing out blue angelfish and parrot fish.

In the evenings there is an on-board educator to provide lessons specific to Bermuda and the curriculum—migratory patterns, weather systems, the role of the sea in the history of Bermuda, flora and fauna, etc. This was perfect for me as there was much I didn’t and don’t know a lot about Bermuda. We were able to visit NonSuch Island—a nature preserve to which very few people, including Bermudians, are not permitted access. We were treated to a private tour and were shown

the various species endemic to Bermuda—the skink lizard, blue-eyed spiders the size of your hand that eat cockroaches. Personally, I think cockroaches have a certain charm and I wouldn’t mind their proliferation if it meant I would stop dreaming about thousands of blue eyes in the lawn. We had an opportunity to see only 2 of 50 remaining cahows—a nocturnal seabird native only to Bermuda whose plaintive calls and night flights scared the initial prospective settlers away, leaving Bermuda to be colonized by the English. Otherwise I would be wearing a sombrero and sipping margaritas, rather than wearing long shorts and gulping rum swizzle. Honestly, they sailed across the Atlantic in search of adventure and riches and were scared off by a bird, not the giant blue-eyed roach-eating spiders?

We spend a lot of time believing that young people either can’t or won’t do anything of value. They either need to be babied or we are quick to comment on their failures. These girls rose to the challenge of being given real responsibility and did a truly amazing job. The most impressive thing was not how well they sailed the boat, but how they worked together, with not a mean word amongst them. If we could duplicate this in the schools of the world, we would see miracles happen in our communities. That’s not to say they stopped being little girls. They squealed and skipped and giggled and danced and sang and worried about their hair and got crushes on the crew.  I love being a role model.

It would seem that my fears of seasickness were unfounded. Sailing the ship, learning the language of boats and being on the water have created a renewed desire to make being in and on the ocean a bigger part of my life. Sailing is fun, but it is also hard work. That’s one of the things we wanted the girls to learn—anything of value is worth working hard for. Of course, getting the orange stains off your fingers from the cheesie poofs takes effort, too.

I Scream 'Coeune'!

Visitors to Bermuda have the option of renting a scooter, taking the big, pink bus or walking around the Island. It is not permitted for visitors to rent cars—it simply doesn’t exist. For those who are officially residents, you must have a driver’s license in order to drive any vehicle, and you cannot rent a scooter with any license other than Bermudian. So off we went to get our licenses. First there is the written—unusual questions, but no problem. Then there is the driving test, consisting of weaving in and out of orange ‘coeunes’ spaced way too closely together if you ask me. If one should fail the driving test, you are permitted to retake it in another 2 weeks.   So Andre was driving me to school for a couple of weeks… Honestly what does it matter if you’ hit de coeune’? How often do you have to weave in and out of orange 'coeunes' in the real world? Now, all of this was some time ago, but my wounded ego prevented me from blogging about it, although a good friend did suggest some lovely potential titles to explain my lack of driving prowess: “De Coeune of Silence’ ‘ Coeuney Island’, "Bermuda Try-Angle'.

Morning Commute

I have been driving my own (borrowed) little scooter since September and I love it! Even when the weather is awful and I am bundled up in GoreTex and rubber boots—it all adds to the feeling of adventure and a totally different lifestyle. Driving on the left is not as difficult as I had thought. It’s driving down the middle that I have to be careful of. There is something known as ‘the third lane’ here. Basically, if you drive a scooter, you can disregard all line-ups and slow traffic and drive down the centre line, when there is no oncoming traffic or when there is—depends on if you are truly Bermudian or not. Cars will simply allow you to cut in front of them if a particularly large vehicle is bearing down on you as you ignore all traffic safety laws. As it happens, knowing how to weave in and out of tight spaces comes in handy when trying to avoid head on collisions, slipping between cars, driving down the    sidewalk to get to a parking spot or trying to fit your bike  into a 2 ft wide space..but there are still no cones on the streets!

Accidents are common. Roads are very narrow and most are lined with rock walls. In fact, accidents are so common that the Government has an arrangement with homeowners that when (not if) someone hits their wall, then the government will rebuild it if they will donate a couple of feet to build a sidewalk.

It is only a matter of time before you will ‘come off your bike’ as they say here. It’s an interesting expression, to ‘come off your bike’--just as if you softly float to earth. I assure you, you don't. There is still gravity in Bermuda, perhaps more than in Vancouver.  Bikes run into walls, cars run into bikes, bikes run into each other, everyone runs into the walls.  Then there is what  I call the 'Arte Johnson Manoeuvre'. (Let those old enough to get the reference explain it to those who are too ridiculously young.)  This usually occurs in parking lots, at a complete standstill generally due to circumstances beyond one's control, wind, sun, balance, gravity...  Obscure segue:  It really should not be called a 'funny' bone.

'Elbow' Beach

 Only residents with an assessment number are permitted to have a car. There is only one assessment number per household. This is intended to limit the number of cars on the Island—makes sense, but there sure are more and more cars as Bermudians age and think that scooters are becoming more dangerous.  "Ha!" I say to them.  I still have a sense of adventure, so I will strap on my helmet, elbow pads, anti-gravity shield, tilt my head towards the Heavens and yell, "I scream 'coeune'!

Baby, It Ain't Cold Outside!

Let's face it.  Christmas is one giant Pavlovian response. Whatever your experience of Christmas--religious, spiritual, obligation, busy-ness, joy...we all respond  to the Christmas triggers.  The weather changes, cold, snow, rain.  Christmas displays in the stores.  Christmas carols in every mall and on the radio.  Shopping. Shopping for co-workers.Shopping for friends. Shopping for family.  Schools are filled with posters, pageants and parties.  Offices are decorated. Stores are decorated and our homes have exploded with tinsel, lights and scented candles. When these triggers are non-existent what is there to drool about? 

Merchants here put up Christmas displays, but there are not stores everywhere unless you intentionally decide to go to Town to go shopping. There is just the one town, hence the capitalization.  You don't go to Hamilton--just to Town. Not being in a car, the radio is rarely on and when it is, the stations play only 70s soul, reggae or hip-hop. I suppose  we could listen to our iPods on the bikes , looking at the screens, picking out songs or, perhaps watch a video while driving the bike, but I think you are only allowed to do that if you are born here. Christmas decorations go up in Town, but it is hard to take tinsel snowflakes seriously when juxtaposed against palm trees. Poinsettias are hung on the poles outside--and they live.  They grow here.  Poinsettias that don't die as soon as they are purchased--it's like a fairy tale!   And the weather!  Sure it is getting a little colder, windier and rainier; but the reality is it never gets much below 16C and when the sun comes out it is beach-worthy. There are no snow flurries.  Not even a good stretch of rain to remind us of the season Vancouver-style.

And so we never really felt that Christmas-y. Rather than 'decking the halls' as December wore on, we spent our time exploring more of Bermuda and heading off to Florida for a few days. Although we knew we would miss the children and other family and friends, we really didn't think it would be anything other than a nice vacation.  And it certainly was! We  met up with friends in Key West and enjoyed Christmas aboard their boat.  We did not sit around a Christmas Tree enjoying the twinkling lights and a hot toddy; rather, we watched 6 foot tarpon swimming around in the blue light off the stern and heading to a local watering hole for coconut mojitos (us, not the tarpon).   Flights being what they are, we returned early to Bermuda to a few days of glorious weather--not the gale force winds that had been lurking for weeks.  We found a few more secluded beaches to explore.

A wonderful, relaxing December vacation for sure, but Christmas?  No.  Christmas is about the family, the children, the friends, the shopping, the decorating (the bills) --all the things we  thought we could do without--just for one year.  We were wrong. We  can't complain (and be taken seriously) about anything during this year--but if we were going to complain, it would be to say that we never missed our family and friends more than over Christmas.   My mother was fond of saying that all she wanted for Christmas was peace and quiet.  Recent photos suggest I resemble my mother more than perhaps I may want to, but in this area we are not alike.   Bring on the family! Bring on the shopping, decorating, cooking! All I want for Christmas is noise, confusion and family. Next year we will be drooling every time we hear the ring of the cash register whenever we go Christmas shopping.