Newport, Rhode Island

My time in Puerto Rico came to an end, sadly. Before reporting to my next duty station, I headed home to Massachusetts on leave. While there, I had a day trip down to the Naval Base in Newport, Rhode Island. For all the people who like me, salt water runs in their veins, the ocean and the beach are at its best in the middle of winter. My love of the sea comes from a long line of relatives. It's one of the main reasons I joined the Navy. I knew I would always be close to the beach.
Newport is famous for its mansions, the yacht race, and old money. It offers plenty of restaurants and shopping. I took the tour of the mansions during a field trip in high school. But this time, I walked the trail that follows the rocky coast. It's called the Cliff Walk. On a day that was cloudy, cold but not freezing, no wind, it was perfect. Or maybe the word is invigorating. The salt air was heavy, smelled wonderful. This kind of rock was everywhere. After I brought it home, I found out it was the Rhode Island state rock, cumberlandite.

From volcano to rainforest

This is volcanic rock from El Yunque Rain Forest, Puerto Rico... my backyard, literally. The road leading up to this tropical rain forest winds around an dormant volcano. In fact, if it wasn't for this volcano, there would be no rain forest nor Puerto Rico. The volcanic ash and the lava that once flowed out thousands and thousands of years ago all provided the perfect atmosphere and conditions to create this lush forest. Around every turn there are waterfalls, birds calling, a thick canopy of leaves providing relief from the heat, the smells, the sounds...even 30 years later, I can remember it like yesterday. One of many trips up the volcano, I remember taking some lunch and a few beers up. We found one of the waterfalls off the beaten path. We put our picnic in a plastic bag, waded through the pool, and went behind the falls. There was a cave with plenty of room for five of us to enjoy our little private oasis. I'm not sure if this is allowed today but it's a memory that has always stuck in my head.

In the Navy

After enlisting in the Navy, I ended up in Puerto Rico. During boot camp, when the man asks you where you would like to go, you have three choices. (at least you did, back in 1980) My choices were anywhere in Europe, anywhere in the Far East, or anywhere in the Caribbean. It was a sweet deal. I looked after their aircraft parts as an  inventory clerk, and they let me live on the beach for $100 a month. Okay.

Part of the welcoming is to take you on a day trip, driving around the island on a school bus, to check out all that Puerto Rico had to offer. The island is green and beautiful. The people are amazing and kind. Lunch was a buffet at a seaside resort. It was picturesque. After lunch, we decided to get our feet wet. Much to our amazement, the sand beneath our toes in the water was moving. Reaching down, just underneath the sand, we lifted out handfuls of sand dollars. I had never seen a sand dollar that was alive. We were told to let them bleach out in the sun for a few days to let them become the familiar white. After 31 years, unfortunately this is what I have left of my sand dollars. To the right are the two "doves of peace" that are found inside the shell.

The first few days of getting into the island mood were just setting the tone for what turned out to be one of the most memorable periods in my life.

Misquamicut, Rhode Island

The summer of 1978 was pretty memorable. One week after I returned from England, I was off camping for a week  to the resort area, Misquamicut Beach in Rhode Island with my friend Jeanne. Her family owned a camper which her father hauled behind his station wagon. I've always enjoyed the camping experience and staying by the ocean, even better. During this vacation, we saw Grease in the theater, played mini golf, giggled around boys, and spent a lot of time on the beach. Along with the the title "rock collector", you could add "shell seeker". To this day, I can spend hours looking for treasures that the tide has brought. Rhode Island is famous for the Quahog shell or basically the hard clam. The pieces I picked up were once again ancient. The clams that occupied these monster homes could feed a family of four. The edges have been worn smooth by time to the point you can see many layers, many years traveling the bottom of the ocean until the ocean released them into my eager hands.

My First Rock

My first rock was collected in Withernsea, England in the summer of 1978. My mother was born in Hull in 1930 and spent her first twenty years in this village that sits on the edge of the North Sea. Her mother had a tobacco and candy shop. Her Uncle Charlie had a stand where he sold fresh mussels to eat as you walked along the promenade which runs alongside the rocky beach from one end of town to the other. The views are always breathtaking and the smells are soothing. The village has its shares of arcades, the bowling green and a lighthouse to entertain the summer visitors.
My mother tells of the time when her father and her were taking a walk along "the prom" during the war. German fighters often passed by after the british bombings on their way back to Germany. This time however, they had decided to let loose the leftover bombs on the village. Many buildings were destroyed, along with the movie house which had luckily just emptied from the afternoon matinees. The town bowling green sits inside a crater formed by one of those bombs.
We spent three weeks in July with my mother's Auntie Vi and Uncle John. It was my first visit to England, but not my last. I regarded them as my grandparents for I never knew my real ones. Every birthday and every holiday, there was always a little something sent from them. During the time we were there, they made me feel so special and made sure we were having a good time.
One lazy afternoon, my Uncle John and I wandered into town and to the beach. At the time, I had no idea what the sea could offer up with each tide, but my Uncle John knew. The moment he broke open a rock and I saw the fossils inside, I was hooked. 
The concept of holding a piece of history and the bones of the earth has fascinated me every since.

Rocks and Places

 Rocks and places...the two things I have been collecting all my life with a passion. This morning, I laid out the design to match the, what I thought was quite clever, name for my blogging experiment. My name is Gio...my two hobbies start with "geo"...why have I never thought of this before. Brilliant. Picked a background. Changed a few colors and fonts to go with my new blog name. I'm just the coolest. Now, what to I want to write about...and I got stuck. Well, my basement isn't going to clean itself...let me give it some thought. 
 Eight hours later, half the basement looks good. I'm feeling quite satisfied with a job well done. I've also got a sense of how to start my little blog. But today, I dedicate my first blog to a country, which has been in my top 5 list of countries I want to see before I die, that was devastated by two huge rocks shifting under the sea. My heart goes out to the people of Japan. May you all find strength from the support of the world, including myself.