This is Jeff Warnement typing from chilly Columbus, Ohio. It's 10:10pm on a Saturday night and I just got back from a wonderful Father/Daughter dance at the YMCA. My 8 year old daughter, Cate, and I had a great time. My wife, Becky and son Justin hung out together and had their own date.
For those of you that don't know me, I am the middle son of Justin and Joanne (Goetz) Warnement. We live in Columbus, Ohio. I am in the Video Production biz and Becky is a real estate agent among some other things. Justin is in the 6th grade and Cate is a 3rd grader.
I'm sitting here wondering what to type next. What do you say to relatives that you've rarely if ever met. I know that if you are anything like your parents you must be pretty good people. Mom's siblings were and are some very special folks. I think my mom is pretty outstanding too.
I hope that with this blog, we may be able to get to know each other a little better. Even if it's in cyberspace, it's better than the alternative.
Thanks for listening. JHW
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Ms. Linda Goetz
In this pic from left to right - Linda Erikson (Goetz), Al Goetz, Angela Irons, Marki Nelson (Al's main squeeze), Dan O'Shea (Angela's betrothed).
It all began in Michigan, Grand Rapids that is, the place I decided to make my entrance into the world.
47 years later I call West Linn, OR home - not too far from Chuck and Chris Crawley.
Here's a few pics of my house which I share with my husband Roy Erikson, our german shepard Jake and our kitty Marconi. I have two children, Angela and Bill Irons. Angela holds a chemistry degree from the University of Oregon. She lives close by with her fiance - getting married in September. Bill works for the Boilermaker's union when he's not doing his work with the Army Reserves. He's currently on his way to serve in Iraq and possibly Afganistan. He'll be there for a year.
Roy is a production planner for a manufacturer of electronic chips for autos (and we're really hoping his job fairs through the economic storm). I work for Uncle Sam at NOAA Fisheries as a secretary.
It all began in Michigan, Grand Rapids that is, the place I decided to make my entrance into the world.
47 years later I call West Linn, OR home - not too far from Chuck and Chris Crawley.
Here's a few pics of my house which I share with my husband Roy Erikson, our german shepard Jake and our kitty Marconi. I have two children, Angela and Bill Irons. Angela holds a chemistry degree from the University of Oregon. She lives close by with her fiance - getting married in September. Bill works for the Boilermaker's union when he's not doing his work with the Army Reserves. He's currently on his way to serve in Iraq and possibly Afganistan. He'll be there for a year.
Roy is a production planner for a manufacturer of electronic chips for autos (and we're really hoping his job fairs through the economic storm). I work for Uncle Sam at NOAA Fisheries as a secretary.
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Feb 10th
We are early risers, normally 5 to 5:30 am, even in the states. We are rewarded with a beautiful sunsise over the sea.
In between the house and the sea is the "beach trail." A trail of very hard, compacted sand due to heavy use. Locals, migrant workers, tourists, and ex pats walk or ride by on their bikes all day long. There is nearly always a wave and a friendly hello.
The shower needs a better cleaning job than the maid provided. Found some comment and a scrub brush under the kitchen sink. I also purchased a small bottle of bleach at the store yesterday. I decide to clean the whole bath - it needs it. I am done in about an hour, and Roy gives me an impatient look. He is having a hard time winding down and is ready to go do something. We decide to make the most of having the golf cart, and set about exploring the island. We head north first. The roads here are purposefully not maintained, the locals don't like the tourtist traffic.
There is a lot of construction going on up here, huge timeshare resorts.
I have a feeling the road will be improved before too long. Although the most frequent mode of transportation from the north end to town is by boat. At times the road comes precariously close to the mangroves in the lagoon, and there is the feeling a crocodile could jump out at you any minute! Roy says he's keeping one eye on the swamp and the other on the road.
We stop by the house, and notice a new tenant... an iguana lives under the house!
All puffed up to impress...
Back in town, driving along the narrow streets. There are banners up from the elections. The streets are uncrowded, it's about 10 am. Most shops are small and there are a lot of vacancies - shops that have gone out of business.
After a couple of wrong turns we are in a part of town most tourists don't venture into as we're starred at as we go by. It's where the locals live. The homes are delapitated, some seem to be barely standing. There are dogs running about and garbage everywhere and my heart breaks for these people. We are so spoiled in the US! 
We head south of town. The older resorts are here, and they block the view of the beach. The paved road goes for quite a ways before we are back on sand. There are mangroves to the west and a few scattered houses to the east. There was tons of construction garbage just dumped in the mangroves, and some of it smelled bad. We found a road that led out to a bay. There was a dock and we walked to the end of it. We're totally isolated now. Lots of conch shells lay about.
Back in town we had a hard time finding the place to return the cart, but finally spot it. We had driven past it 2 or 3 times. Turns out it was a small shop no bigger than your average bathroom. They couldn't find our paperwork, but promised to ensure we didn't accrue further charges.
We walk back toward the beach, it's amazingly picturesque with colorful dives shops built on top of the docks. Little shacks, really. We pick a spot on the beach and watch the pelicans anticipating scraps as the local fisherman clean their catch of the day.
Stopped at Caliente's and had a few beers and the best ceviche ever. It was a long walk in the hot sun, not much of a breeze in town.
Back over the bridge a few raindrops fell. I had been nervous about the weather as the forecast for Belize City before we left said rain all week. But the weather is different out here near the atolls... We get back to the house around 5, Roy took a siesta. A storm rolled in just as the sun was setting. The wind picked up and started blowing everything around in the house. I had a hard time shutting the doors without having it blow out of my hand or slamming shut before I moved everything inside. All the commotion woke Roy up. The rains came - the drops were the size of quarters and coming down in sheets. One could have showered out there easily!
Feb 9th
This morning we depart Houston and arrive Belize City around noon. The plane lands and at the end of the runway, it makes an unexpected u-turn? We're headed back to the terminal! There's only one runway...
The air is hot and sticky, we are shuffled into a small room with barely room to stand. Lots of people anxious to start their vacation. It takes an unexpected two hours to get through customs, apparently there is a national election that just took place and some political unrest as a result. So they are being extra careful in customs. But we enjoy talking with other people in line. We missed our flight to Ambergris Caye, but Maya Island Air put us on the next flight. The airport is small, there are a few quaint shops and Jet's bar where I pick up a couple of Belikin Beers for Roy and I.
We board a Cessna. There isn't a co-pilot so the seat is offered to a passenger. An elderly gentleman takes the seat and the pilot comes around to his door and instructs him not to touch the petals on the floor. The gal behind me and I exchange glances and giggle nervously. The gentlemen's wife says "He's got really big feet. They shouldn't have put him up there!" to which the plane erupts in laughter.
Views from the plane over the Carribean Sea are breathtaking.
Each airline has their own 'terminal' which consists of a room the size of a double wide trailer and an attached covered deck. Baggage claim is a metal cart rolled over to the deck.
The maid does the dishes and washes and changes the sheets while we're there, which I think a bit odd. But the husband proves to be a weath of information about the wildlife in the area and the local fisherman in their boat just off our dock. They are net fishing for sardines. He explains the birds on the stumps just the other side of the neighbor's dock are Great Frigates, common to the area and gorgeous in flight.
We had rented a golf cart at the advice of the property manager - she said it would be easier getting around town at least on the first day, getting groceries, etc. She was wrong, the roads are so bad! Many pot holes on the sandy roads meant slow going, the bikes provided with the home were much more easy to navigate. Still we were glad to have the cart as we were able to explore much more of the island while we had it. Headed back into town we find groceries are unbelievably expensive, and all the produce in the store is wilted or rotten. Three small bags and $90 US later we head back home. Dinner is at Sweet Basil, a restaurant just six houses down from ours - safe to walk after dark. The sun rises here about 6 am and sets around 6 pm every day of the year.
The air is hot and sticky, we are shuffled into a small room with barely room to stand. Lots of people anxious to start their vacation. It takes an unexpected two hours to get through customs, apparently there is a national election that just took place and some political unrest as a result. So they are being extra careful in customs. But we enjoy talking with other people in line. We missed our flight to Ambergris Caye, but Maya Island Air put us on the next flight. The airport is small, there are a few quaint shops and Jet's bar where I pick up a couple of Belikin Beers for Roy and I.
We board a Cessna. There isn't a co-pilot so the seat is offered to a passenger. An elderly gentleman takes the seat and the pilot comes around to his door and instructs him not to touch the petals on the floor. The gal behind me and I exchange glances and giggle nervously. The gentlemen's wife says "He's got really big feet. They shouldn't have put him up there!" to which the plane erupts in laughter.
Views from the plane over the Carribean Sea are breathtaking.
Crystal clear torquoise waters sprinkled with deserted islands of mangroves.
It's a short 15 minute flight. At the last second before we touch down, a seagull slams into the windshield - the pilot says this happens about once a week!
It's a short 15 minute flight. At the last second before we touch down, a seagull slams into the windshield - the pilot says this happens about once a week!
Each airline has their own 'terminal' which consists of a room the size of a double wide trailer and an attached covered deck. Baggage claim is a metal cart rolled over to the deck.
We walk the three blocks to the management agency for the keys and transport to the house we rented north of town.
The house isn't ready - I'm wondering why considering we were late arriving. But the maid and her husband come and escort us the mile to the house. They lead us through the narrow streets paved with concrete pavers, and show us where the grocery stores are. We take a right and head toward the beach - we're on the "Beach Road" now, driving right on the sand next to the piers. I'm struck by the beauty, but also by the lack of people - February is supposed to be their busiest tourist season and this feels, well, vacant.
This is a park in town off Front Street.
We're north of town in a residential area called Tres Cocos. The house has a lanai in both the front and back, view of the Carribean Sea to the front, and the lagoon filled with crocodiles to the back.
The maid does the dishes and washes and changes the sheets while we're there, which I think a bit odd. But the husband proves to be a weath of information about the wildlife in the area and the local fisherman in their boat just off our dock. They are net fishing for sardines. He explains the birds on the stumps just the other side of the neighbor's dock are Great Frigates, common to the area and gorgeous in flight.
We had rented a golf cart at the advice of the property manager - she said it would be easier getting around town at least on the first day, getting groceries, etc. She was wrong, the roads are so bad! Many pot holes on the sandy roads meant slow going, the bikes provided with the home were much more easy to navigate. Still we were glad to have the cart as we were able to explore much more of the island while we had it. Headed back into town we find groceries are unbelievably expensive, and all the produce in the store is wilted or rotten. Three small bags and $90 US later we head back home. Dinner is at Sweet Basil, a restaurant just six houses down from ours - safe to walk after dark. The sun rises here about 6 am and sets around 6 pm every day of the year.
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