From Transit to Silver Bullet (06/27/2026)

(with some excuses for some repeats).

After three years of camping, we realized we enjoyed it enough to up our game. Our Transit van was a lot of fun, but it had a low roof. As we often tell people, changing clothes — or putting on clean underwear while lying down on the bed — was getting old. So, we have been looking at campers since we got back from our trip to Michigan last year. We've visited dealers and found a few that we liked. 

And then I started to do my research. Online research can be fun, especially Reddit. There were a lot of good and bad comments about the brands we had been considering. Some folks really liked one manufacturer, others thought that they were crap. Did we want a slide-out? The questions did not stop. Then the questions about weight and tongue weight. What kind of vehicle can tow such a behemoth? Do you need a weight distribution hitch (WDH for short) and anti-sway-bars? We even visited friends to look at their unit and setup; we wanted to know what their experience was. Our heads were spinning. 

We were almost ready to put our money on a 21 foot Imagine. We had some great conversations with the salesperson and were asked to put a refundable $2,000 down to lock it up while still thinking about it. That request turned the tide against the dealer. It felt, if not exactly like a scam, then at least like a way to apply psychological pressure. Then came the advice to have it inspected by a third party, even though it was new. It seems that the dealer that we were talking to did not allow that. And that did it. It even gave us stronger doubts about whether this was the right move. Is this particular dealer selling crap? The somewhat high-pressure sales approach and the refusal to have it inspected made us decide to look elsewhere. We ended up visiting the Airstream dealer that we had visited some 5 years ago. 

Yes, we ended up buying an Airstream. Our decision was based on the looks of these campers, but also on the quality and resale value. They are more expensive, but they felt right. After looking at various models we decided on a World Traveler, and the reason for that was the V-berth like beds, which makes it easier for us old folks to get in and out of bed in the middle of the night. We have now owned it for two and a half months. I wrote the first draft of the current post during our second trip in our new rig, while sitting at a campsite in the mountains of Virginia. All I can say is that this was the ultimate act of self-love, buying a new truck (Ford F-150) and an Airstream; a silver bullet. We named her Abigail, and then I read today that Abigail means: Father’s joy. Wow! 

The new Airstream and truck

What have I learned during these two camping trips, the drive home from the dealership, and the drive back and forth to the dealer for a small warranty job? First, it is definitively an upgrade from the Ford Transit we have camped in during the past three years. But then it is also less maneuverable than the Transit. You have to plan which gas station can handle you and the long setup we now own, or which parking lot is large enough for a shopping trip or lunch. We have to drive slower with a 22 ft (7+ meters) trailer behind us. When it comes to electricity, the camper has 300 watts solar and 200 watts storage in lithium batteries. The second site (Peaks of Otter) we camped at had no hookups (or shore power) and we never ran out of power. That site also had no water, and three days were about the limit of our freshwater tank. I have already researched how we can conserve water and we may be able to stretch it on our next trips. Lastly, we discovered that we are getting older. We are both in our early 70s and noticed that we need more breaks and limit the driving time to less than 4 hours (or less than 200 miles). We are just getting tired much earlier than the good old (younger?) days. Tired drivers are dangerous! 

From here on out, you will get occasional trip reports from an Airstream. We are definitely not slowing down and will report on some of the trips we will be making. Stay tuned!

Relaxing during our second trip

Inherited Distance: When Blood Is Not Enough (05/26/2026)

Recently, I spent an afternoon with friends and learned a lot about family dynamics. She is a good friend of my wife, and her daughter has a lot of issues with her uncle. I am just amazed that there is nothing new under the sun. People fight with each other, especially with those close to you. It reminds me of a saying in my native language: “good neighbors are better than a distant relative.” We have been trying to live our life that way, especially now since we have absolutely no relationship with my siblings, sometimes to my regret, but also often to my relief.

My parents were perfect role models for family feuds; we must have learned it from them.

On my father’s side: Once my uncle Karel died of meningitis in the 1960s, we lost contact with his wife and two kids. It seems my uncle was a player (well taught by their father) and they were about to divorce. When I finally met my cousin in 1971, we were 18, she did not want to acknowledge me, she actually was angry at me at first sight. We ended up in the same classes in college, but she always stayed angry with me and once told me that her mother had told her what scum we were. I finally met her brother around 2001 but he was friendly and told me that she always had an angry outlook on life.

My uncle Willem also screwed around and divorced his wife. They had four daughters and he had a son from the affair. Once they divorced, my parents chose sides against the brother. My father and his brother finally reconciled a year or two before Willem died of cancer. My father always appeared to be sorry that the break lasted so long and that they only had two years to catch up.

On my mother's side: Things were not any better. I previously wrote about how my grandmother mistreated my grandfather and my mother. One of her brothers (Jan) died in a German concentration camp. But eventually my mother broke her relationship with her two remaining brothers. Simon fooled around, got divorced and again there was a choice against him. Eventually my mother did allow him to visit her, but this was a few years before she died at the age of 76. Her other brother Cornelius and mom had a mutual breakup and they never reconciled. The breakup was also wife related, my mom and my aunt could not get along, and the breakup occurred sometime in the 70s and they did not see each other for 30 years although they lived less than 2 miles apart.

I have often wondered why both had these issues. While it is easy to assume what brought it on, my parents did not accept unfaithfulness or divorce, I doubt whether my father was faithful. It is easy to blame my mother, she seemed always angry, had a strong character and was principled, uncompromisable, and stubborn. I should have asked them what made them like this. Now it is too late; they are gone.

In a later post I will eventually chronicle why my siblings and I all broke up. But this post is getting long. We broke up around 2005. Around that time I told my siblings that we were emulating what our parents did with our own interactions. “Fuck you” was my sister emailed me in a response. My brother wrote me: “Now you did it.” In other words, we have not spoken since 2005. Do I miss them? I think about them at times; but I feel that I tried to make amends but was pushed away. I have given up, I will no longer make an attempt on reproachment. I told my wife that I will be open and respond if or when they contact me. I will be friendly but be very cautious and probably will not allow myself to become too close.

What will I recommend you do? Try to treasure your parents, siblings and extended family as much as you can, but don’t let them abuse or bully you, your family, or the life you lead. In an article in Very Well Mind the authors write that if fighting is unavoidable, it is best to not take things personal; find support elsewhere; try not to perpetuate it; invest in your own family; and accept the reality of the situation. I think I have done all these things in my situation. But if all fails get professional help by seeing a therapist. I just hope our daughter breaks the cycle.

My sister and I.  I was probably 11 here in this photograph and she was 2 or 3.

My brother an sister.  We visited the Holland American Line's Rotterdam when it visited Curacao where we grew up.  I think they were 9 and 4 at the time. 

Sucking the Marrow Out of Retirement (05/21/2026)

It has been more than a month since I have written here and updated the world on what I have been up to. I am not planning to stop or disappear from the written word or the world, but these past five to six weeks have been absolutely jam-packed with excitement or activity.

It all started out with the delivery of our new travel trailer or camper: an airstream (model, World Traveler). We got a Ford F-150 the week before, so we had something to tow the airstream with. I drove the airstream home with a friend and backed up into our driveway in the dark. It was all successful. But we had applied for a loan to pay for all this, and that was the stressful part; all the hoops we had to jump through. We can afford all these purchases, but a loan made sense from an investment strategy.

Our neighborhood had a community wide yard sale three days after parking the trailer in our driveway. On a whim, I put a for sale sign on our camper van, and to our surprise we got an offer on the van that we could not refuse. Next was getting the van ready, emptying it. But we also needed to outfit our new rig. On top of that, my wife took off for California to visit the family. Followed by an exciting board meeting at our UU church (of which I am the president) where we decided to follow our principle and spend around $80,000 to put solar on the roof of our church. That weekend we had our annual cluster meeting where all the local UU churches come together. This was followed by a trip to the airport to pick up my wife. Subsequently, we needed to get ready for our shake-down cruise, our first (weekend) camping trip with the new camper, to figure things out. Mixed in to all of this is managing the church contracts for solar and another meeting or two. And here they tell you that life gets slower when you retire.

The word life, reminds me of a YouTube clip I watched where someone old stated something like “I don’t know how much longer I have to live, but I want to make the best of it: I am going to make sure that I use and enjoy the remaining time to the best of my ability.” This reminds me of the words Henry David Thoreau wrote in Walden: “Suck out all the marrow of life,” or “when I came to die, discover I had not lived.” I have noticed that you become more aware of your mortality when you grow older. “How much time do I have left” has been going through my head. It hasn’t stopped us from buying the camper; currently I am planning a three-to-four-week trip through the Canadian maritime. I hope to do this early in September. But first an off-grid trip to The Peaks of Otter campground on the Blue Ridge parkway to celebrate our 49th anniversary. Interesting fact, Thomas Jefferson thought that the Peaks of Otter were the tallest mountains in the entire USA.

So yes, life sometimes gets in the way of writing my blog posts, which are a form of diary for myself as well as an update to the rest of the world. I promise I will keep doing this as long as I can; but maybe not that frequent.

The airstream arrived in our driveway!  We are still debating where to place it.

Camping in Westmoreland State Park.  We decided to cook our first meal outside, which we will probably do with more.  It was just very pleasant to be there with the dogs.  Westmoreland is one of our favorite parks.  We have stayed here at least three other times in the cabins.  This is our first time camping. 

Our first meal in the new camper.  We cooked steak, fried potatoes with onions and peas.

Breathing Botany’s Baby Batter: A Pollen-Season Memoir (04/07/2026)

Or, the Yellow Haze of Spring

It’s spring. The days are getting warmer; the birds are chirping; the daffodils in our garden have finished flowering; leaves are popping out everywhere; the redbuds and dogwoods are blooming; the May flowers have woken up—and yes, there is pollen everywhere.

Pollen is so thick right now that our gray deck is yellow, and you can watch it drift over the boards when there’s even a slight breeze. Our concrete driveway is yellow, and the vehicles are coated, too. While the major culprit in our pollen plague is the loblolly pine, it started earlier with the maples and oaks. They announced the start of pollen season about two weeks ago.

The first time I mentioned pollen on this blog was in 2014. My first post was in June 2013 (wow—13 years ago), so April 2014 was more or less the first time I could have complained about it in these pages. I think I mentioned it every year since. Spring pollen has been a perpetual issue here in Virginia (and farther south). For a few weeks, the sky looks yellow and—somehow—everything else does, too. We were walking along the York River and clouds of yellow dust drifted over the water from the shore. When you walk the dogs in our neighborhood and a gust of wind kicks up, you get a face full of the stuff and your eyes sting from all the tiny particles. Even your shoes turn yellow after a stroll through the grass or along a forest trail.

I had a perverse sense of humor when I was still teaching—actually, I still have a streak of it. I’d ask my students if they knew what pollen was: plant sperm. Tree sperm. “Now everyone, take a deep breath in through your nose and inhale all that sperm through those nostrils into your lungs.” A few weeks later, the water in my rain barrels smells horrible. Rotten eggs smell like perfume compared to this brew. Pollen has a high protein content, and all that protein has to break down—ferment, rot, or whatever you want to call it. I’ve always assumed this liquid is fine to use on my bonsai; I’m sure it must be nutrient-rich. And, over the years it hasn’t killed a plant yet.

Soon, this pollen episode will be a thing of the past. We’ll have forgotten it until the end of March next year when it begins again. Now, the seasons will get warmer, and summer will be upon us. Heat and humidity will be there, and maybe a chance of hurricanes? Let’s just hope I can keep complaining about pollen on our deck and cars for a few more years.

Our deck covered by pollen

Uganda here we come (03/17/2026)

The couple was aimlessly wandering through the departure halls of Zanventem, the international airport of Brussels in Belgium. He was 24 and she was 22. It was February 1978 and they were filled with apprehension. They had met two years earlier and got married 7 months ago and now they were going to the man’s first full-time job as farm manager at a leprosy center in Uganda. It was 10 o’clock in the evening. They were taking a Sabena (the Belgium National Airline) flight to Nairobi, Kenya and from there to Entebbe, Uganda. Into the unknown.

At the time of their move, Uganda was ruled by the ruthless dictator Idi Amin who had given himself the title "His Excellency, President for Life, Field Marshal Al Hadji Doctor Idi Amin Dada, VC, DSO, MC, Lord of All the Beasts of the Earth and Fishes of the Seas and Conqueror of the British Empire in Africa in General and Uganda in Particular." He was known for the deportation of all Asians in the country and a brutal murderer of anyone who opposed him. Moreover, flying to Entebbe meant they were going to the airport that was famous for the hostage crises and Israeli raid of 1976. Everybody they knew told them that they were crazy and that they were going to be in severe danger by going there. The couple kept telling themselves that leprosy would repel anyone that could threaten their lives; people were afraid of that biblical disease called leprosy, or so they thought. Now these two were not religious, they went for humanistic reasons and for adventure. Little did they know what would happen in the next year and a half.

The two had arrived in Brussels in the morning by train from Rotterdam. They deposited their luggage at the hotel from where the Sabena shuttle to the airport would leave that evening. Having time to spare, it was time to do some sightseeing: the Great Market and Manneken Pis, have a last Trappist beer and a nice dinner. After that, they sat in the hotel lobby waiting for the shuttle to the airport.

Their flight left Brussels around midnight. They were flying over the Sahara when the sun came up. It was one of the most beautiful sights they had ever witnessed in their young lives; parts of the mountains and dunes illuminated by the orange light of the rising sun, while the opposing sides of hills were still in the dark.

They never exited the plane in Nairobi, but they could feel the warm tropical air rushing into the cabin when the doors opened to let passengers off and allow new ones to come on board. Th majority of the embarking folks were Africans and so, the ethnic makeup of the passengers changed dramatically. Reality hit, they suddenly realized that they were no longer in Europe but were entering dark Africa.

The landing into Entebbe gave them some beautiful views of Lake Victoria and their first Ugandan villages down below. Once landed the plane taxied to the terminal where they were greeted by a huge banner with the face of that ruthless Ugandan dictator, Idi Amin Dada, the conqueror of the British Empire. The banner was draped from the roof of the arrival building and reached all the way to the ground. Now in 2026 the couple is being reminded of that sight by similar banners with the picture of the current U.S. president that are draped of buildings. Let’s not talk about Amin’s massive deportation drive of folks that had migrated into Uganda and did not look like him. Nothing new under the sun.

Once they cleared customs, the couple was met by Pieter, the Dutch doctor and medical superintendent of the leprosy center, and Steve, the Ugandan anesthesiologist. Later they learned that Steve was a wheeler dealer for the hospital, he knew which buttons to push, who to bribe and even had sex with him. But so did the sworn bachelor Pieter, neither gentleman had ever heard of sexual harassment and avoiding sexual relationships with underlings. But after all, this was Africa and late 1970s.

Naturally, that couple were my wife and I. As you know, my writing is a collection of autobiographical sketches, environmental essays, and political commentary. Hope you enjoyed this one and it gives you an insight into my brain and who I have become over the years. Feel free to browse the keyword list for the word Uganda; there is so much more, and more to come.

Manneken Pis

The conqueror of the British Empire