Thanksgiving and Thanksliving


I guess I have a new role, that of cancer survivor. Tubes are out. I’m relaxing and trying to get my energy back. Minus one kidney now, but it appears that they got everything for which I am very grateful. Nice just in time for Thanksgiving. Now it is keep a watch on things, scan and appointment with doctor every three months to start. Thank you all for your prayers, emails, messages and for being there. God bless you all!

It’s Pretty Interesting Actually


For those of you who like the gory and grim details . . .

Not to worry, the surgeon is sitting nearby at the computer making all the moves. Instead of having a large, invasive incision you have several ports or holes for the machine arms to fit through. To increase the working space they first inflate your abdomen with gas (really!). Since it’s still limited space and to prevent damaging other stuff that’s crammed into your abdomen they have to move stuff out of the way, pulling and holding it back with what look like little plastic ties. When they’re done they shove everything back in place, deflate you, tidy up, and sew up the tiny holes leaving a few drainage tubes to keep you company. Apparently afterward you have a sore gut from all the poking around and inflation, but they provide happy pills to ease the pain. In my case they’ll start some chemo right away to catch any stray cells that may have gotten loose, and quite possibly put me on dialysis for a while to help out the remaining good kidney adjust to its increased work load.

I’m scheduled to be in the hospital a few days and then 6 weeks of relaxing, no lifting, no driving, just a chance to read, binge on the British Baking Show and Lego Masters, and trying to keep the dogs from pouncing on my sore gut.

I’ll let you know how it all works out, and in the meantime THANK YOU for your thoughts, prayers, and for reconnecting with me. God bless you all!

Under The Knife


 So surgery is coming up Nov 3 and they will remove my left kidney and the tube (ureter) connecting that kidney to my bladder. I’m thankful to have Seattle Cancer Care/Fred Hutchinson/UW Medical Center about an hour drive from my home in Anacortes, WA. And I’ve got a great doc doing the surgery and planning my “defense” by the name of Sarah Psutka, MD. In addition to being a physician/surgeon she’s also a researcher and professor at UW Medical School. I liked her approach and watched a lot of videos of her presentations, so felt like I knew her and was happy to have her leading my “team.” Since I knew a lot about her, I thought she might like to learn something about me, the patient, so what follows is a kind of introduction that expresses my philosophy about the whole journey on which I’ve now embarked. Amazingly she actually read it and has commented several times about how much she appreciated it.

I deeply appreciate everyone who has reached out (generally I hate that term, but it applies here) to be me and expressed their love and promised their prayers. So, for what it’s worth, here’s my philosophy about this entire thing, as written for Dr. Psutka.

“I’ve watched a lot of your videos and I like your general approach to things … I’m not sure we’ll have time for this conversation, but maybe you’d like to know something about the patient and my general approach.

“We lived in Panama on a small coffee farm for 18 years. As we got older and because our kids were both in western Washington, we decided to sell our place in Panama and move to Washington. So, we’ve had a year of nonstop, major stress. My retirement job has been lecturing around the world on cruise ships. In March, just as I was preparing to get on the bus for SeaTac, I started uncontrollably shaking and could hardly move. Fearing a stroke, we called 911. They had to restart my heart 2 times in the ambulance, and 3 times in intensive care. They put in pacemaker. While I was in the hospital my wife Nikki came to visit me, slipped and fell in the hallway in front of my room and broker her leg. So, a LOT of major stress. Then in the blood workups there were things they didn’t like, which led to the discovery that I had urothelial cancer, so the hits keep on coming and here we are.

“In my active working career, I was pastor of churches for 35 years and ended up with many parishioners in various stages of cancer. And I’ve always felt a lot of compassion for folks like you who must be the bearer of bad news time and time again, fighting an enemy that usually wins. When I was a pastor one of my elders was the director of nursing at a big hospital. She got me scrubbed into surgery for a day for a remarkable experience of being right there and watching amazing procedures, everything from a c-“section and hernia repair to cornea replacement and two ureteroscopy procedures, which sure didn’t help my anticipation of my own ureteroscopy.

“I also participated in an American Cancer Society “internship” for clergy where we were admitted to the hospital like regular patients, and then spent two days listening to the top cancer specialists. They talked about treatments, their own struggles and frustrations, some facts and treatment scenarios, survival expectancies and how we could deal better with our parishioners in cancer situations.

“My own philosophy of life and death is summed up in a story about Saint Francis. He was out hoeing his garden, and someone interrupted him to ask, “What would you do if you knew you were going to die?” (Not that we all don’t know that we are going to die) and his response was “Finish hoeing my garden.”

“My first church was an all-black congregation in a Puerto Rican neighborhood of the South Bronx (“Fort Apache”) in 1968. Having worked at Cook County you might appreciate this. I knew a lot of people, gang members, street kids, etc., but when I went out at night in the housing projects, I always wore a clerical collar hoping not to be mistaken for a cop. Anyone white in the projects at night was just assumed to be a cop, and they were shooting cops back then. There were times when I never thought I’d leave the South Bronx alive. I didn’t mind dying for the cause, by I didn’t want to die because someone mistook me for a cop. And now here I am almost 60 years later

“The Heidelberg Catechism, although written in 1563, still sums up my approach. The question is, ‘What is your only comfort in life and in death?’

“The answer for me, ‘That I am not my own but belong body and soul in life and in death to my faithful Savior Jesus Christ. He has fully paid for all my sins with his precious blood and has set me free from the tyranny of the devil. He also watches over me in such a way that not a hair can fall from my head without the will of my Heavenly Father. In fact, all things must work together for my salvation. Because I belong to him, Christ, by his Holy Spirit assures me of eternal life and makes me whole-heartedly willing and ready from now on to live for him.’

“You can take the boy out of the Bronx, but you can’t take the Bronx out of the boy, so I still love a good fight, So bring it on!”

Cutting, Literally, to The Chase


While any move is stressful, our move from Panama back to the US was off the chart!  Our international mover was horrible, loosing stuff and damaging most everything else and has been totally unresponsive.  Needing to buy a home at the peak of house prices in Washington state and with little inventory was a nightmare.  And moving three rescue dogs from a farm in Panama to a tiny backyard in Anacortes was challenging to say the least.  And all of this while the world reeled from Covid!  Needless to say, it was stressful.  But with the help of our daughters, both of whom live in Western Washington we made it … barely.

We were settling in while I was racing around preparing for a five-month commitment to work on PEARL MIST cruising the Great Lakes, Canada and New England.  I was looking forward to the respite of working!  The day I was rushing to catch the airporter bus I collapsed.  Thanks to the emergency response of the local fire and rescue department I made it to the emergency room.  I am told they needed to restart my heart twice in the ambulance and another three times in ER.  I had a pacemaker put in, was spending a few nights in the hospital, and we almost made it.  (Had this happened in Boquete with no 911 emergency response with trained paramedics, I would have been dead.)  So, I’m in the hospital and my dear wife comes to visit, slips and falls in the hospital hallway in front of my room, and breaks her leg.  More drama!  Folks you can’t make this stuff up!

During my brief hospital stay several blood tests raised concern and a bunch of tests, cat scans, and totally invasive (use your imagination!) procedures, it was determined that I also had kidney cancer.  If there was any good coming out of the heart drama, ii is that accidentally they discovered the kidney cancer and apparently much kidney cancer is discovered by accident.

More tests … by now I’m beyond any embarrassment and thinking of getting rich starting my own “Only Fans” channel, but who would watch?  So, I’m in the good hands of the University of Washington Seattle Fred Hutch Cancer Center.  The cancer appears not to have metastasized and is confined to my left kidney and ureter which they are scheduled to remove November 3rd using a computer robot assisted laparoscopy.

Hopefully, I’ll be “out” when they wheel me in to face this contraption!

Fortunately, I’ll be “out” while they poke, prod, examine, take a look around and then remove the left kidney and ureter (the tube to the bladder).  If all goes well, afterward I’ll have some treatments to be sure no kidney cancer cells escaped and then, after recovery, I’m hoping to return to a somewhat “normal” (at least for me) life, albeit with regular checkups.

By Spring I sure won’t have miraculously become a “spring chicken,” but hope to get back to work, hopefully back on the Great Lakes, picking up where I left off before Covid hit and with all my medical drama behind me.

Sorry for the long-winded post, but I wanted you all to know.  I would ask for, and deeply appreciate, your thoughts and prayers.  

The Move From Hell, Part 2 – Mexico Moving Company


We ended up selling the home we had designed and built just outside of Boquete, Panama to a very nice family from Germany. We negotiated a sales price and were waiting for funds to clear on the deposit before going ahead with shipping our belongings to Washington, where we wouldn’t be able to purchase a home until the sale closed. With Covid and worldwide shipping problems we knew that even getting a container would be a problem.

The folks from Germany have turned out to be really nice people who love our house and property and have made some great improvements including wisely giving up on growing coffee and turning that land into pasture for their horses. Unfortunately, they had linked up with a poor lawyer, who although he spoke both German and Spanish, gave them some poor advice and turned out to be a problem holding things up for both of our families.

Once we had the deposit, and the German’s container was already at sea, we moved ahead. We decided we were going to return to the States to live in Washington near to our kids. Real estate in Washington was going crazy with soaring prices and bidding wars for properties that went hundreds of thousands above the asking price. We couldn’t have picked a worse time. Supply chain issues resulted in US ports that were swamped with freighters tied up for weeks and that was getting worse by the day. We had decided we would move our valuable stuff back with us at the tune of about $24,000 and take our three rescue pups with us. Crazy, I know now, but at the time we thought it made sense.

I’ve already written about the “adventure” and challenge of moving three dogs from Panama to Seattle. It doesn’t sound that complicated, but it was. Had we just chartered a private jet it would have been easier, but of course we would have had nothing left with which to purchase a home in Washington.

I had asked the one person who knew more about folks moving to and from Panama than anyone else for a recommendation. She didn’t have anyone to recommend but had heard “good things” about Mexico Moving Company. Let me clear one thing up from the start: they are not Mexicans, but a company based in Texas (but the money ends up getting sent to their home in Alabama). It’s owned and run by father and son, Ronald Ponton Sr. & Jr., that apparently began moving folks between the US and Mexico and had expanded to their destinations including Panama.

The only good thing I guess is they didn’t drop our container in the sea en route!

It was tough getting space reserved on a freighter for our 40′ shipping container, so we took what we could get. We ended up fooling around with the buyer’s attorney which messed up our timing, so our stuff had to be loaded and shipped before I had the money to fly to Washington and buy a house. So the container with all our stuff was at sea with us, anticipating shipping delays, intending to buy a house before the container arrived, or, worst case need to store it a few weeks, something we had discussed with Mexico Moving Company.

Both of the Pontons were smooth talkers who promised all the right things and said all the nice things about taking care of our valuable possessions.

Here, from their website is what they promise:

Unfortunately for us, they failed on every single thing they promised. It was all just smooth talk. They made our move much more stressful than it needed to be. It was totally unprofessional. Just about everything they touched was scratched, damaged or broken, As we discover new damages and items which just “disappeared” we are again and again reminded of the distain Mexico Moving showed towards us and our treasured possessions. I would never again use Mexico Moving Company nor would I ever recommend them.

Unlike most moving companies there was no record or inventory made. We were told that the container was completely ours, so it was not necessary to number and record each item. We were told the container once loaded would be locked, and with the possible exception of a US Customs inspection, it would not be reopened until it was delivered. For a number of reasons, admittedly some over which they had no control but should have anticipated given their claimed “experience” and “professionalism”, a number of valuable items just disappeared.

Basically they had no packing supplies. They scrounged together some from others moves, but not enough. Their packing crew was mostly teenagers with absolutely no experience or concept of packing. An antique German wall clock was just stuck in two cardboard boxes taped together. The pendulum and weights were just stuck in the body of the clock without any packing. Naturally a container on a ship at sea is going to rock and roll. We spent $400 trying to have it repaired, which their representative who was hear for the unpacking assured us, since he was appalled at the poor packing, Mexico Moving would take care of. Despite promises and smooth talking they have taken care of nothing.

I am NOT a professional mover, although I’ve moved a lot. The four foot very fragile Carnival ship model that I PACKED ARRIVED WITHOUT ANY DAMAGE! Our collection of fragile shells and very fragile coral that I PACKED ARRIVED WITHOUT ANY DAMAGE!

They say they wrap furniture. Our furniture was wrapped with a single layer of cling plastic wrap. Pictures where stuck between cut pieces of old cardboard packing boxes including pictures with glass. Nikki’s valuable South Seas painted woven wood bark painting arrived with it’s glass cover shattered. Estimated cost to replace the glass in Anacortes was close to $600, $300 if we chose acrylic instead.

Don’t let these folks near your stuff!


The Move From Hell, Part 1


I suppose this is therapy … but also maybe good advice if you are ever thinking of moving to or from a foreign country.

We moved from the Ventura/Santa Barbara area of Southern California to Boquete, Panama 18 years ago. At the time Boquete wasn’t overrun with expats, and most of the available local houses weren’t the style to which most North Americans were accustomed. So, a lot of new expats just built their own homes. We had no mortgage on our home in Ventura and sold it in a good market so, like a lot of other expats back then, we were somewhat flush with cash. We bought a 4.5 acre little run-down coffee farm and designed and built our 4,500 sq ft dream home for a fraction of what it would cost to build something similar in Southern California. We had 18 years of living in what was mostly paradise. No heat or air conditioning required, pretty much perfect weather most of the time. And we grew and drank exceptionally good coffee.

But after 18 years things changed. When we came locals would ride into town on horseback and tie up in front of the little pharmacy. Eventually with the gringo boom things flourished. Locals now had fancy, new Toyota 4x4s, horses were replaced by horsepower, and a lot of the new ex-pats had come lured by promises of “cheap,” with different values content to live in gringo bubbles. Coffee is a fickle plant and with global warming the climate had changed bringing warmer temperatures and new diseases and the only way to keep growing coffee at our altitude was to keep dumping more and more expensive chemicals onto the plants. Chicken shit, a wonderful treat for coffee plants, which once was $1 a bag was now $7 a bag! And we were getting older, finding it harder to get good medical care and with no emergency 911 response system . . .it was time for a change and to look for a new adventure.

So, we put our house on a market crowded with high-end gringo homes all built around the same time in an expat market dominated by folks who’d suffered financial setbacks in the States and were looking for cheap.

For me personally the end really came when we sold off our property in Boca Chica on a hill overlooking the ocean. I’ve always been in love with two serigraphs I purchased at the endless “art auctions” on the ships I’ve worked on now for over 12 years … my retirement gig. Julian Askins created these dreamy images of what to me were the ideal settings for my retirement.

Our tiny cottage in Boca Chica was no where near as grand, but I had created this little Greek-like cottage overlooking the ocean, and it was to become my retirement dream.

Only one problem: it was hot, not that I necessarily had a problem with hot (and it was mostly just hot for a few hours in the morning before the breeze from the ocean kicke in), but it was too hot for my wife who hated being hot and had graciously tolerated my dream … but it was my dream. So we sold it and that ended that.

I still have the pictures but have moved on.

We put our dream house in Panama on the market and began looking for a place to live. Sure, we would have liked to go back to Ventura, but we knew when we left California that we would never be able to afford to go back. The Boulder area of Colorado was interesting, but we knew how cold Colorado could be. Same was true about Santa Fe, New Mexico. We both love Southwestern art, the traditional Spanish architecture, and the culture, but again it’s cold in winter, and pretty barren. So, if we don’t like cold how did we end up in Washington?

Well we’ve always like the NW states … the coastal areas of Oregon and Washington, and Alaska are not just beautiful but a lot is spectacular. My daughter Noelle couldn’t wait to get out of Southern California, so went to the University of Puget Sound. When she graduated she took a summer job driving a tour bus for Princess in Fairbanks, fell in love with her boss and the rest is history. After two years in Fairbanks they moved to Seattle for Noelle to get her Master’s degree. My son-in-law went to the University of Washington and his family goes way back in the state. My daughter teaches in Seattle and they are never leaving Washington. My grandsons hardly have any article of clothing that isn’t emblazoned with the Seahawks logo.

My daughter Rebecca went to Willamette University in Salem, Oregon and worked in Yosemite, Marin Headlands, and the Bay Area, but had a lot of friends in Washington. Just as we were considering where to move, she took a job in Washington. And as we were getting older we wanted to be closer to our family. I had worked with American Cruise Line on a ship doing Puget Sound cruises and fell in love with the little seaport-like town of Anacortes, so here we are! Both Nikki and I have always found ourselves tugged between our love for the sea and our love for the mountains, and here we have both.

We will have been here a year in December and have almost recovered from the trauma of our move … more later on that. We’re working on adjusting to four seasons. In Panama there was very little difference between daylight hours year round and we still struggle with that. I’m told last year was an unusual winter in Anacortes and we usually will only get s skiff of snow. Hopefully they are honest about that. Gradually our house is looking like OUR house.

It has been a VERY stressful year and I’m sure that the stress has contributed somewhat to some of my health problems. If I’ve learned anything from our stay in Panama it is this: you always need to have an exit plan. It’s true in business, and it’s true in life as well … moreso than I ever imagined.

Stay tuned for Part 2 of The Move From Hell, meaning the move itself was “Hell” not that the place we were moving from was “Hell”. No, if anything Panama was almost Paradise.

So we are adjusting. Living only two hours from my daughter and grandkids outside of Seattle, and 30 minutes from my daughter up here, is fantastic. And we are slowly getting out and exploring this fantastic area of Western Washington.

What We Learned and The Stuff Folks Don’t Tell You About Panama


After an 18 year adventure of living in Panama, here are some things you should consider if you are even thinking about relocation to Panama. This section is under construction, so keep checking back as I finish writing. One of the challenges of doing your “do diligence” before moving is that you often don’t know the questions you should be asking. If you know what to ask and check all the information, not just what may be packaged for you by the relocation company, you will go in with eyes wide open and have a better experience living in Panama. In spite of the hassles, we had a wonderful 18 year adventure and I hope you will too.

Regardless of what anybody says, YOU DO NEED TO SPEAK & READ SPANISH

if The Same Thing That Happened to Me Earlier This Month, Had Happened to Me in Panama, I Wouldn’t Be Here

“We Get By With A Little Help From Our Friends”

In Panama Corruption Like Sh** Runs Downhill

Your Lawyer May Be Your New Best Friend … Or Your Worst Enemy

Moving TO or FROM Panama: Some Stuff You Must Know

“My Balls and My Word”

“My balls, and my word”


“I neva f***ed anybody over in my life, who didn’t have it comin’ to ‘im, you got that? All I have in this world is my balls, and my word, and I don’t break ’em for no one, you understand?” (Scarface: Tony to Sosa)

“My word is my bond”  is part of our cultural heritage in the US.  It’s how the West was won . . . if, of course you forget how the settlers treated the Indians . . . and it’s part of our national identity . . . except of course for Presidents, Congress and the US government.  Dishonesty seems to be a way of life with those folks.  But other than that . . . a lot of ordinary Americans still believe in the value and importance of their word.

The stock market works on this principle.  Much business in the US is done on the basis of a handshake.  My poker-playing buddy would lend other “players” hundreds of thousands of dollars, just based on their word.  With the exception of politicians and government, in the US one’s word has value and means something.

In theological terms it means something.  An old version of the Bible, that I was raised on, says, “Let your yea be yea and your nay be nay.”  So I was raised that if you say it, you’d better do it.  If you don’t intend to do it, don’t say it!

And if you do say it, and don’t do it, your credibility is shot!  Period.  No ands, ifs or buts.

It seems the saying, “My word is my bond”, originated around the 16th Century. Since 1801 this has also been the motto of the London Stock Exchange  where transactions are made with no exchange of documents and no written pledges are given.

Now I get to Panama and a person’s “word” doesn’t mean s***!  Just because a person says they will do something doesn’t mean they have the faintest intention of actually doing it.  And they feel no shame, no guilt.  It’s a way of life.  Promises mean nothing.  Nothing!  Whether its a professional or a day laborer . . . what people say means nothing.

In my culture it is a matter of trust.  If I can’t trust you to keep your word, can I trust you at all?  If you are not trustworthy and dependable in small things, will you be trustworthy and dependable in large things?  So coming out of my culture, when people continually don’t perform, you start to wonder if you can trust them at all.

To say you are going to do something with no intention of doing it, or without breaking your balls to do it, is the same as lying. Who trusts a compulsive liar?

It is a major cultural difference and one which is very difficult for gringos like me to come to terms with.  To promise to do something, with no intention of actually doing it, with absolutely no compulsion to perform, goes against every grain in my body.

Welcome to Panama!

As my friends Nikki & Squirt wrote in one of the songs in their “Postcards From Paradise” play, ” . . . better get used to it if you’re going to stay, don’t give a damn how you did it in the US of A!”

But it can still be frustrating as hell!

Moving TO or FROM Panama: Some Stuff You Must Know


No matter who you are or where you are moving from or to, moving is a pain in the ass! Here’s some stuff we learned the hard way and some things to think about if you are moving TO Panama or eventually move FROM Panama back home, wherever “home” may be.

FIRST: TRAVEL LIGHT We had (tense is important here) a lot of really neat things that we’ve picked up in our travels around the world. Our decorating theme we’ve always described as Marco Polo with a little Hemmingway thrown in. Our stuff was important to us and when we moved to Panama 18 years ago we were going there “for good.” The home we built in Palmira, just outside of Boquete up in the Chiriqui Highlands, was on “Cemetery Road” because our little road led down to the tiny cemetery that served our tiny hamlet. I remember when we moved in my wife said, “This is it! I have only one more move and that’s down the road to the cemetery. I’m not moving again!”

So we thought. And we were wrong. I guess nothing is forever.

The current advice is take as little stuff as you can with you to Panama. There is a good likelihood that at some time you will be coming “back home,” and if that’s even a distant possibility sell, give away or store your stuff and travel light. When we moved to Panama it was hard to find what you needed and were used to in Panama and particularly in and around David. Now you can find pretty much anything and everything in David which is only a half hour or so from Boquete. People are coming and going and there is lots of stuff in a few good resale shops. Now we know folks who’ve “moved” to Panama with nothing more than a few suitcases prepared to rent or buy locally whatever they need.


I learned this, or should have learned this, in my MBA classes. See point above: nothing is forever. It will eventually end either jetting back home or in a box in a little Panamanian cemetery, or in a pottery jar that your kids won’t have any idea what to do with or how to get rid of. If you have an exit plan you will be able to make wiser decisions throughout your stay in Panama knowing that whatever you acquire you will have to get rid of or take with you.

Of course we didn’t have an exit plan, so when our first family of three dogs died, and then we adopted three more, we weren’t thinking of ever leaving Panama or, in addition to all our stuff, getting three dogs back to the states. Not really understanding the legal differences in Panama, the quality of the medical system and what our future needs would be, and, of course, not reading or fluently speaking Spanish, and without a thought-through exit plan, we were sitting ducks for crisis when and if it became time to exit.

Making any kind of move is a stressful event and it you’ve thought all along about an exit plan when the time comes, it will make it far less stressful. In our case it is almost as if by failing to have an exist plan in place all along, we created the most high-stress exit possible. Even if you end up developing a somewhat last-minute plan, Panama being Panama and people being people don’t count on things working as planned!


Times change, and not always for the best. Things such as Covid and economics take their toll. When we moved to Panama, flush with cash from selling our home in California, there weren’t houses available period, and those that were often were not built to North American standards or expectations, at least not in Boquete. We, and a lot of others who arrived around the same time, built really nice and somewhat grand homes. I think, if I recall correctly, our construction costs ran about $70 a square foot, plus of course finishes, site development, well, yada yada. As construction began on the new Canal locks, prices for concrete, steel, and other building materials soared due to high demand and limited supply. So housing construction prices climbed steadily.

Then things started to change. The US dollar devalued and bought less. Many folks in the US saw their retirement plans disappear and the folks moving down, lured by promises of “cheap living” in Panama, were all looking for cheap houses which still offered all the comforts of North American living. Literally thousands of expat folks came to Boquete area looking for “cheap” and some might argue changing the whole tenor of things. Folks who had lived as expats for years were at a point where they either needed or wanted to “go home,” so all of those grand houses started coming on the market offered at prices less than it would cost to build them in that current market. We saw the writing on the wall that eventually, much as we had enjoyed most of our time in Panama, time was marching on and it was time for us to go “back home” and be near to family. But. given the market, it took a while to sell our home and farm not making the profit we had hoped for, but more-or-less (discounting inflation) breaking even. But, make no mistake, we had a wonderful adventure in Panama that was well-worth it to us for the “cost.”

If we had a well-developed exit plan we would might have done a lot of things differently … wouldn’t we all.


So we decided we were going to return to the States to live in Washington near to our kids. Real estate in Washington was going crazy with soaring prices and bidding wars for properties that went hundreds of thousands above the asking price. We couldn’t have picked a worse time. Supply chain issues resulted in US ports that were swamped with freighters tied up for weeks and that was getting worse by the day. We had decided we would move our valuable stuff back with us at the tune of about $24,000 and take our three rescue pups with us. Crazy, I know now, but at the time we thought it made sense.

Molly tries out her quarters for the flight back to the US. Understand that the folks who brought her to Panama before getting rid of her to Dog Camp, flew her as a “service dog” FIRST CLASS to Panama on Copa/United. We certainly were a comedown for Molly but we love her and weren’t about to give her up.

The dogs were a major challenge. We worked with a pet relocation outfit which was somewhat helpful at times. We couldn’t use our regular vet in Boquete but had to use another David vet who had trouble copying down the correct information on the paperwork and identifying our neutered male dog as a female, all of which resulted in my wife and dogs being driven en route from Boquete to Tocumen Airport in Panama City and ending up getting a call when they were halfway in Santiago about the paperwork problems, then having to drive back to Boquete and start over. The normal challenges were acerbated by Covid which resulted in fewer flights and smaller aircraft which could not handle the large containers required for our full-sized pups. Suggestions were to charter a private plane (right!), fly all three dogs from Panama to Amsterdam or Frankfurt, thence to Costa Rica, thence to Miami, and finally to Seattle. Not wanting three dogs to take a world tour, nor pay for their world tour, we finally got Copa to fly them to LAX. Since I had gone ahead once the sale of our house in Panama closed to buy a house in Washington, I drove from Seattle to Los Angeles to pick up Nikki, three dogs, and three dog crates from Copa/United cargo in LAX. That cargo operation was a nightmare and we only narrowly avoided our dogs getting on a live taxiway and chasing a 737 aircraft down the runway!

Road Trip!

I never thought I’d be writing how grateful I am for Motel 6 because they were the only place that would take us and our three dogs for three nights. The rooms were clean and comfortable if basic, and the dogs actually loved riding in the car and staying in motels and were, for our farm dogs, exceptionally well-behaved on the journey.

So the dogs and we made it.

The furniture and rest of our stuff more or less made it although not all in one piece. I had asked the one person who knew more about folks moving to and from Panama than anyone else for a recommendation. They reported they had heard “good things” about Mexican Moving Company. Let me clear one thing up from the start: they are not Mexicans, but a company based in Alabama owned and run by father and son, Ronald Ponton Sr. & Jr., that apparently began moving folks between the US and Mexico and had expanded to their destinations including Panama.

It was tough getting space reserved on a freighter for our 40′ shipping container, so we took what we could get. We ended up fooling around with the buyer’s attorney which messed up our timing, so our stuff had to be loaded and shipped before I had the money to fly to Washington and buy a house. So the container with all our stuff was at sea with us, anticipating shipping delays, intending to buy a house before the container arrived, or, worst case need to store it a few weeks, something we had discussed with Mexican Movers.

I’ll write more about our horrible experience with Mexican Movers and why I would never recommend them at a later date. Suffice it to say we are here and we’re trying to build our new lives in Washington. Unfortunately about everything the movers touched was scratched, damaged or broken, so we are constantly reminded of the distain Mexican Movers showed towards us and our treasured possessions.

52 Pickup


In the 13 years I have been writing this blog there have been a lot of changes … in the ways in which we communicate and share online, in where and how we lived, in times of our lives, and in the world. Challenges of political division, global warming, the introduction of Covid, the disruption of supply chains, new hourly wage minimums and inflation, and “the Great

Retirement” .even a US Supreme Court messing with precedent and threatening rights we all thought we had.. all of which have and are challenging us in various ways. Pretty much we’ve all been dumped into a game of 52 Pickup, you know what happens when you get fed up with a card game and throw the whole deck into the air … and then have to pick them all up.

So things have changed, and so its time to shift the focus of my hallowed blog, which by the way has been written all over the globe, on and off ships, and when the Internet on board sucked, in cafes and anyplace with a good Internet connection in over 300 ports around the world.

And I’ve long since given up on writing a blog daily … or even weekly.

So the blog continues … sorta kinda. There will continue to be a focus on my retirement job, which is lecturing on ships around the world about the ports we visit … kind of my “business” Web site as well as some retrospect to our 18 years living in Panama. And from time to time, as the spirit moves, I will ad some personal info, and just some fun writing stuff, the bloggy-type stuff. If you are interested, please subscribe. Just stick your email in the subscribe box on the top on the right sidebar. No one will call. You won’t be added to any junk mail lists. And if you ever tire of getting my blog stuff in your email, you can easily unsubscribe.

I’ve enjoyed sharing with you and I’ve met fascinating folks from around the world. Thank you and I hope we can stay in touch and you will subscribe and keep visiting.

“We Get By With A Little Help From Our Friends …”


Sorry. Even although it’s perfectly legal in Washington, available in pot shops everywhere, and in the Beatle’s next line in the song, we don’t get high.

We appreciate the thoughts and prayers from everyone. Both of our daughters, despite their own very busy lives, have been wonderful. And even although we are brand new to this tiny community, our neighbors have brought food and wanted to help out. So we’re getting there. My pacemaker is doing fine, as am I, and hopefully in a few more weeks I’ll be able to drive which will simplify life a lot. Nikki’s orthopedic doctor is pleased with her progress and her breaks are healing a little ahead of expectation. She’s managed all kinds of moves and challenges. The mayor’s wife of one of our kids’ towns has loaned us a wheelchair. Unfortunately I can’t lift or push it, but when one of my daughters is here to load us into a car and push the chair, we can take some beautiful walks. And Washington is abloom with azaleas and rhododendron and the weather is changing … warming up and some sun. The days are getting much longer and I will miss the uniform days nearer the Equator in Panama.

I’m scheduled to go back to work on board PEARL MIST August 20 on a Great Lakes Cruise and then doing the fantastic fall foliage cruises on the St Lawrence and New England through mid-November. Right now everything is a go. We pushed going back on the ship until August 20 so I would have plenty of time to fully recover.

What I probably won’t recover from is sticker shock. The fire department ambulance treatment and ride was $1,410, but then again there was an ambulance with trained EMTs who were able to shock me back to life twice. So far, and you all know how hospitals keep finding more stuff to add to the bill, the hospital bill from Skagit Regional Medical Center, what they billed the insurance/Medicare is $76,000 for emergency room and a two nights stay. The estimate is that our out-of-pocket cost will be around $1,000. Whatever, I’m grateful for the care and to be alive, and grateful for insurance and Medicare.

People always want to compare medical care in the US with Panama. When it comes to emergency/911 response if it is available in Panama (and it wasn’t where we lived) there is no comparison. When we lived in Boquete town and Nikki went into anaphylactic shock due to a medication, the first question the ambulance folks asked was “Do you have money for gas.” The kid who accompanied the ambulance had to wedge himself between the side and the gurney on which Nikki rested less she slide out the back doors which wouldn’t close.

So we knew there from experience there was a certain amount of risk living in Panama. Back then we were willing to accept some risk, but as we’ve grown older for us now the risk is no longer worth the reward.

Regarding prescription medicine: it depends. First, not all medications are available in Panama. Panama’s medical establishment, like the CDC in the States, doesn’t necessarily approve or allow sale of some medications which may be available in other countries. If you have essential medications you need to check this out before you move. For a while we were able to order medications in the US and have our kids send them to us in Panama using one of the forwarding operations in Miami. Then Panamanian customs got wind that expats were doing this and started opening and inspecting packages and prohibited sending most prescription medications into the country.

Life is more simple in the US even with the hassles of insurance company reviews. You simply pick up what you need at the local Walgreens. Since most of my medications are available in generic form. most are covered by my Medicare Advantage plan. In Panama I would be paying at the local drug store for every medication. Granted some were half the price of what I would pay if I was just buying them myself in the US and they weren’t covered by my insurance. But some of those pills were $12 each when I had to buy them in Panama.

So it depends.

Don’t go with easy answers or generalizations regarding medical care and medicine. This is an important consideration if you are thinking of relocating to Panama or anywhere else. Do the research first regarding your specific situation.