Of Roy Jones, Cellphones and a Day at the Beach
Roy Jones Jr. Squaring off against Antonio Tarver tonight. Hey Roy, we've all enjoyed watching you but, regardless of what happens tonight, retire. And I write this before the fight starts, noting I advocated retiring after the last fight. That's the problem with celebrity--it's hard to walk away from. I repeat: win or lose, retire...

Seems everyone has a cellphone these days--and they're all ringing. I remember my first cellphone; the battery was weak, it was big, and I only turned it on while I was in my car--which was a lot--plugging it into the cigarette lighter outlet. Now, I carry around this Blackberry, calling, receiving e-mails, and surfing the net day or night. I suppose it's good and bad--I'm in touch but find myself sending work-related e-mails at 11 pm sometimes.

Cellphones used to be a status symbol. Now they're leashes; signs that someone, somewhere can find you no matter where you are. My Dad said, reminiscing not too long ago, that he remembered a time when you could be "out of pocket" for the afternoon. No longer, and I think we're not, all in all, better off for it. Everyone should have a place to go away from the world: a repose for the soul--timeout for the mind to consider the wind through the pines or the water making designs in collusion with the sun.

But about these ringtones, I think they're getting out of control. Hearing Bach in a Nintendo sounding way is, I don't know, cheap? I'm weird in that way, I set my phone to vibrate--always. I also can't hold a conversation in public--even the most innocuous. I have to excuse myself. Others apparently can talk about all sorts of intimate things around total strangers--I sat in the Atlanta airport once and listened (I had no choice) to the details of a rather convoluted weekend some guy apparently had and was now trying to explain to his girlfriend. Unbelievable.

Late this afternoon, my daughter, her mother and I went out along the sound and played in the water. We watched the great blue herons (Ardea herodias)and osprey (Pandion healiaetus) flying, and the mullet (Mugil cephalus )jumping. Wading into the cool, clear water, we bounced and splashed, dipping our heads and watching the minnows play. I held my breath and looked straight up from the sandy bottom--watching the blue sky shimmer and shimmy above a few feet of water, feeling the gentle sting of salt in my eyes, cleansing.

A comb jellyfish (Ctenophora beroe) floated by; I picked it up in my hands and showed it to my daughter. She absolutely squealed in fascination, running her hands along its soft, slimy sides, looking at the inner workings through its clear body, and holding it between her cupped little hands. My little marine biologist--everyday, let's look at something new, okay?

Okay...