Then one day they try it and your genetics show through. Patchwork to needles, lay flat or go bushman, only the code knows. While I had a brush with some extended chops and a jowel line a few times in the past 20 years I can’t recall ever just seeing who I was with a beard.

This year in the Carolina’s it’s been much colder than usual and my skin hates dry cold—and being a skydiver hey, let’s face it (heh), some added protection on the way down sounded like a good call. Well that’s the way I’m going to remember it.

As with anything new it created more growth than that on my face. You learn something about how you see yourself, how others see you, and by the way—you can stroke it. New sensory too.

Times are quickly changing. Maybe this has been a bridge for me. As I soon pair back what I let grow I will be left with a memory of visages of who I can be, pondering the different embodiments that I can take.

When you are a child, or young adult, being locked in a dark place is probably the closet to panic you get. The overwhelming fear of the unknown, a confined space, darkness, can usually evoke a pretty good shriek from many people whereupon you are released by teasing siblings or friends from your torment.

In scuba diving many people cannot do it. Whether it’s the water, a bunch of gear on you, breathing apparatus, or something more simple many people I speak with do not have what it takes to submerge themselves.

Being a Floridian I’ve always loved the water. My mother affectionately called me part fish for my comfort and never ending joy I found in pools or the sea. I started diving in 1992 at Seacamp. While I have more skydives than water dives I have always considered diving like riding a bicycle. Once I learned it’s all fairly rote in my memory. Gear assembly and testing, signs, the only thing I have to reference is my dive tables.

Heading to Cayman this year I found myself with a sinus headcold. For the first two days on island I thought my eyes would never stop tearing due to the unwanted pressure in my head. We scrubbed a few dive days to allow this to work itself out. During which time my wife and I took to snorkeling and free diving. Free diving allowed me to test what parts of my head were clogged and not by having to equalize multiple times and varying depths.

On the third day my head felt clear with minimal if any pressure build ups. We decided to make a comfortable dive at [Eden Rock](http://www.edenrockdive.com/). Robin and I were buddies following my father and step-mother down to Devil’s Grotto (a series of little tunnels and such). Like normal I felt comfortable, breathing was zen like, everything felt good. Robin and I stayed down about 55 minutes in total.

We then went to lunch at the [Sunset House](http://www.sunsethouse.com/), calculating our surface interval we prepared for another dive. I wanted to see the Mermaid again and my new dive buddy Beth and I were going to visit the wall at about 60ft. We swam out to our marker with family, submerged, and slowly found our way to the Mermaid standing tall in waters clear to about 50-60ft. Taking pictures of my dad being a hooligan we turned and began to make our way to a sunken deployment craft.

We descended further and I began to swallow what I was thinking was salt water. I began to think there was a light leak in my mask and somehow during breathing I was inhaling water. Diversionary thoughts began to enter my head as this sensation increased over the next few minutes. My mind was starting to echo really stupid thoughts of, ‘Sure would suck to have to emergency ascend’, or ‘How do I breathe again?’. Slowly but surely my mind began to get on a tear as this fluid—drinking—sensation built. My heart began a sympathetic response and began to race.

With Beth in the lead and my father next to me I motioned that I needed to stop. I was starting to hyperventilate at about 45ft and my logical mind could not for the life of it get my emotional self under control. I knew I could breath, I knew the life line of tubes connecting me to my can of air was worthy so I sank to my knees, motioned unease and held my mask and my mouthpiece. I know stupid things happen in the moment so I just sat there with my eyes closed, letting the sine wave of panic pass through me. I motioned that my heart was racing but how it was perceived I can only guess. I was blowing so many bubbles I went from 2400psi to 1700psi in moments.

We split the group up, Beth to go with my step mother Page and I would return to shallower waters to exit with my father. We turned and parted ways. A few minutes later my heart stabilized, the fluid in my throat stopped running, and my logical self retook control of my senses. I communicated with my father and we tooled around for a few minutes more then exited for what would be a short 27m dive.

When I took my mask off I found out I had a nose bleed, my medical father thinks I had sinus rupture and I was swallowing the drainage / blood from the blow out. What an amazing and frightening experience.

When you find yourself in an alien environment, or maybe just out of your situational comfort zone, and your body begins to abreact at something it can’t internalize properly it feeds your emotional mind a lot of dark fodder. The more I try to be my rational, logical, normal self, the more tenuous the feeling of actual control is when a situation is spinning out of your control.

The best thing one can do is stop and hold on. We are a thermodynamic device so inputs will be cyclical and responsive to what is happening. If you can ride out the wave you will probably see yourself safely through to the end but going all out emotional, or reptillian mind, will only cause you harm. Can you imagine if I had bolted to the surface? I would have put myself from a bad situation to worse in heartbeats.

The next best thing you need to do is extract yourself from the situation. Once I regained some function of mind the safest thing for all of us was to abort the dive. With clear instructions and good buddies I was able to make my way back to safer waters and further regain my faculties and composure. Am I disappointed I didn’t get to see the wall this time? Sure. Am I forever happy to have my health and know I can dive another day? Undoubtedly.

The older I get the more I understand that sometimes we have very little control of ourselves. When the amplitude of panic rises you have to be ready to react in safe manners. Whether it’s deploying a canopy, diving the seas, or driving the highway, you have to be ready for any situation and be ready to try and handle it, or escape from it, like a pro.

Here’s to a safe return and a new story to tell.

-a

On Sunday, January 6th, 2008 my grandfather, Honorico “Ric” Ciordia, known to many of us as Pop or Poppy, passed away. My grandfather was someone very special and dear to me. He had the perfect set of grandfatherly ways. He lifted me up in times of doubt and set me back on the path when it looked like I had wandered a bit too far. His beautiful mix between giving and discipline, listening and action, teaching and watching, was well played and beautiful.

My earliest memories of my grandfather are surrounded by lemon gumdrops. Riding with him in his old cadillac with a secret stash of the sweet and sour treats buried in the center console. He paced me on them but he seemed to always have them. Something about his consistency with this really made an impact on me.

Then came the [Georgia Bulldogs](http://www.georgiadogs.com/). Good ol’UGA. While he went and graduated from the University of Tennessee he had a real team spirit for Georgia. My grandfather and father deeply indoctrinated us into Georgia football. We knew all the fight songs, tales, went through their good streaks and bad. Those times were marvelous and until you experience large scale college football, the communion it provides you won’t quite understand it. Unfortunately UGA didn’t want me so my football spirit waned over the years.

As soon as I was able to reach his bar (which I now use for my elixir, espresso) he taught me how to make the perfect Scotch and water. No matter the time of day, no matter how many had come before Pop would ring out his drinking catch-phrase, “First to day!” followed by “Salud!”. From his home garden he raised his own grapes (among many other good veggies) and used his laboratory space (and assistants) to produce some very fine (very alcoholic) wine. My cousin Kristin McKnight wrote the following in 2003 to commemorate some of our early wine memories.

Poppy’s Wine

Down in his basement he did brew
That muscadine wine with a taste so true

Oh Oh that muscadine wine
Oh Oh made me feel so fine

Made with grapes on the government’s tab
We all know what you were doing in that lab

Oh Oh drinkin that muscadine wine
Oh Oh a great way to past the time

Well you drink with young ones, you drink it with old
No matter what your age the effects are ten-fold

If you were there in the early years, you get what I’m preaching
Because then it was in abundance and forever we were reaching

Oh Oh for that bottle of muscadine wine
Oh Oh hope I don’t get outta line

But who cares … Cuz I’m drinking that muscadine wine

The taste was so sweet, a nectar so fine,
It could only be … Poppy’s Wine!

— Kristin McKnight ‘03

I used to love being at his home in Griffin, Georgia. A classic ranch style house. He always kept a golf-cart for riding around his neighborhood or to the grocery store right down the street. The grandkids, myself included, used to wear that thing out whistling around the yard and street (sometimes on two wheels..). I’m surprised in hindsight we never got seriously injured. The only thing we walked away with (generally) was a lot of itching due to aging fiberglass frames.

His basement was a place I spent a lot of my time. It was filled with the artifacts of his travels, his hobbies (small boat replica’s, collecting, etc), his experiments, his slide reels and more. I could spend hours in a corner just exploring and thinking. Open another door, dig through another cubby, look through another volume of notes, it was amazing stuff.

He also collected wine labels which he would affix to the wall. As we came of age we would send him special labels from our own travels. The collection started small but over the years it grew to encompass two walls. I wish I had my own collection of pictures of this but my memory will have to serve.

While as he got older he faced more struggles and challenges than his body could keep up with I will always cherish the memories we had and work on not forgetting them. From the stories he told of being raised in Puerto Rico, to his time in the Navy, multiple birthdays, trips to far flung places. He was a brilliant man and lived in a world of good order. As I wrote this and went through piles of his life and the memories I have of him I cannot see a trace of regret. He was exposed to many facets of the world and seemed to have taken them in with vigor and determination. We should all be so lucky.

I am thankful to the times we had together and sad at the loss of not being able to have my future children know him. My wife tells me it is now my job to bring his experiences through me to our children. I think I can do that. At a family wedding a year or so ago the groom spoke of how we were where we were because of those that came before us. As I get older I see more of the collection of who I am by those who have been around me and am thankful for their contributed wisdom.

To my dear dear grandfather, Pop, I love you, I will miss you.

Obituary

DR. HONORICO “RIC” CIORDIA
1920 - 2008

Dr. H. “Ric” Ciordia, 87, of Pensacola, FL, and formerly of Griffin, GA, died January 6, 2008. Dr. Ciordia was born in Vega Baja, Puerto Rico. Survivors include his wife, Polly Pearson Ciordia; children, Dr. Richard H. (Page) Ciordia, of Pensacola, FL, and Cynthia (John) McKnight of St. Simons Island, GA. He was “Poppy” to his six grandchildren and two great-grandsons: Kristin McKnight of Edwards, CO; Melissa (Mike) Brant of Dublin, CA; Dr. David Johnson of Salisbury, MD; Elizabeth Johnson, Andy (Robin) Ciordia, and Catherine Ciordia, of Charlotte, NC; Cameron Lott of Dublin, CA; and Joey Ryan of Charlotte, NC.

He received his BA, MS and PhD degrees in Zoology from the University of Tennessee. He obtained a research grant from the U.S. Atomic Energy Commission in 1953 to study the effects of radiation on parasites and on parasitized animals. For 31 years he served as a Veterinary Parasitologist for the Agricultural Research Service, U.S.D.A., Georgia Experiment Station, Griffin, GA until his retirement in 1986. During his tenure there, he served as Adjunct Professor of Parasitology and as Professor Emeritus at The University of Georgia. He was the author of numerous scientific publications in his field. In 1997 he was honored by the American Association of Veterinary Parasitologists with the Distinguished Service Award in appreciation for outstanding service to the advancement of veterinary parasitology..

He was a veteran of World War II, serving in the U.S. Navy. He was a member of the Elks Club of Griffin and a volunteer at the Medical Center Clinic in Pensacola.

In lieu of flowers, please make donations to support his interests in education and classical music. Contributions may be made to: Arch Foundation, UGA Griffin Campus, 1109 Experiment Street, Griffin, GA 30223 or Friends of the Saenger, Attn: Renovation, P.O. Box 13666, Pensacola, FL 32591.

Visitation will be held from 5:00 to 6:00 p.m. on Wednesday, January 9, 2008 at Harper-Morris Memorial Chapel in Pensacola with memorial service to begin at 6:00 p.m. A graveside service will be held at Westwood Gardens, Griffin, GA at 2:00 p.m. on Saturday, Jan. 12, 2008.

The family of Honorico Ciordia wishes to give special thanks to the staff of Carpenter’s Creek Community, West Florida Hospital, The Haven, and Covenant Hospice for their compassion, kindness, and especially their appreciation of Ric’s humor. He could make everyone smile and laugh. First Today!

Dr. Mike found no blockages which is what we thought since Tyson chews in the air like he has something tickling his throat. His ears showed a light jaundice. Blood was sent off for analysis and the only physical soreness on the cat had on inspection was near his rear lymph nodes. The vet would keep tyson a few days and tube feed him a antibiotic/steroid/antacid, iv hydrate him, and see what was to be seen.

Dr. Mike called with good news and bad news. Good was Tyson was processing his food and the plumbing looked clean. He wasn’t throwing up either, and had quite an attitude. The blood work came back with elevated liver enzymes which could be anything from toxic insult, pancreatitis, hepatic lipidosis, cholangiohepatitis, to even cancer. Regardless this is not an easy diagnosis. With fluid uptake going well the vet released Tyson back to our care with a slew of meds to see if we could get him to eat again.

That was yesterday. Since then the cat has thrown up at least five times. He wouldn’t accept his food, or medicine, so we’ve had to syringe feed him which is a struggle. This morning I made him an apple puree with his meds and got 25 out of 50cc in him (which when alone is quite a task!). Hopefully it will stay down. Our options as I understand it are down to exploratories & biopsy. Each of which are dangerous for the cat and can be quite costly. I love my cat but I can’t just outlay a few grand to see if this is acute or chronic.

Just another lesson that life is rarely simple and straightforward. I’m not sure where his health is going but I’m doing all I can.

-a

Coffee at Andy’s

Coffee at Andy’s,“Oh, Boy, I can’t wait”!
One hour and a half, don’t want to be late.
Step on the gas to eighty, no more
Seems like forever till we’re at his back door.

Hugs and greetings, we say, “How ya doin”?
Now lets get down to it, the coffees a brewing.
No need to ask, forget the requests,
A shot of espresso from his very best.

He stands at machine, that cost more than my car,
A Barista he is, the best we know, by far.
With a hiss and a gurgle, he pulls me one shot,
While Tyson his cat, spies from stair up on top.

The dark liquid he brings in a tiny white cup,
It fits on my pinky, it’s down in one gulp.
As Mother and Daughter sit down for a chat,
With Tyson between them, he’s king and that’s that,

Andy prances his way, back to his place
Two cappuccinos to make, with smile on his face.
With machine fired up and pure water in hand,
He grinds and taps his coffee, from some foreign land.

He eyes the dark stream, with an odd knowing grin
The pressures just right, it’s so good, it’s a sin.
Designed by an artist the froth floats on top,
Like fluffy white clouds, poured till Andy says stop.

Two ‘caps’ to order, one for his love, one for mine,
And one for himself, for he knows he has time,
Till the sad gloom of empty he sees on my face,
Café’ Mochas’ on order, can he keep up this pace?

Off he goes for the chocolate, and new coffee to try,
Soon the cups in my hand and I tell you no lie
You haven’t lived in your life, no not even one day,
Till you’ve had coffee at Andy’s, and that’s all I’ll say!

-Bill Dietz

Thanks Bill! I love it!

-a

Let’s work on something better than nothing; something productive, proactive, growth related. You can only be passionate about a few things at the same time or you’ll be too fractioned to make any traction on all of them. This year I’m coming to terms with three such passions.

Rededication to coffee and the hunt for greater understanding and participation. To that extent I have made new goals to take apart my espresso machine, hang out with the [CCC](http://www.counterculturecoffee.com) espresso techs, and culminate my learning by _if possible_ [pid](http://www.espressoparts.com/product/V_PXR3_PID) my Nuova Simonelli Oscar. As well it goes without saying that opening the [cafe](http://www.caffenuance.com) this year would be fantastic. Not having control of so many variables we can only continue our efforts which begin with a fresh meeting with our property broker, Michelle Buckley of [New South Properties](http://www.newsouthprop.com/) to begin the churn of properties over again. This time we’re scaling back a little working to be more agile for a more expidient, but secure launch.

I’ve also let the artist in me languish over the past few years. I used to do a lot of digital art before digital art was even a real concept. Back in the early 90’s I could be seen with a large 12x12 [wacom](http://www.wacom.com) tablet in my lap just doodling away or working in Painter on some slow to create realistic oil piece. Over the years I got out of graphic design because I felt people I was working with or for asthetically didn’t get it. As well the web back then was table crazy, and tables just never grooved with me at all. It took the art and made it much more science than I wanted. I’d like to get a tablet back in my world and go back to basics. I love design, I love expression.

The last thing I can really say I’ll work on this year is local networks. Last year was a boon to me online. I’ve met many great people through the internet but the internet is something not yet realized locally as much as it should (much greater for bridging large divides). I need to return to my region and start building relationships at home. At this point in my life I need help (hehe take that as many ways as you need), and you gain help through relationships. Unfortunatly I really don’t have as many as I’d like in Charlotte so the effort must be put into this. With strong ties come strong abilities to leverage. Through this I hope to become a little more civic minded and motivated. The wonderful crew over at [Urban Planet](http://www.urbanplanet.org) has been a nice starting point.

As I come to a close the old UGA slogan runs through my head…
>It’s time to let the [big dawg](http://www.alumni.uga.edu/alumni/images/fun/wallpaper/640x480/Uga.jpg) eat.

-a

After months of delivery slides the Levine property group has decided to halt construction of their galleria location due to steel costs. At least that is what we are being told. The cost of steel has risen to such a degree that it would blow the economics of the deal. We’ve put over a years work into this location; it just sang to us and we had studies to prove it. Now it’s off the table for at least a year. Bah.

How utterly disappointing.

Jeff and I are parallelizing thoughts at the moment both working on a [Web 2.0](http://web20workgroup.com/) concept and renewed look for a property that has both the numbers and a more rapid deployment schedule. Every time we get close, we get pushed back.

I will not be put down though, this is a fight we will win.

-a