“Without a rich heart, wealth is an ugly beggar.”
Ralph Waldo Emerson.

On a lengthy road trip as we are currently venturing on, it’s vital to have “chill” stops to regenerate your fervor for the long road ahead. A three day stay in one place gives us time to rest for planning our next destination. Taking full advantage of a weekend stay in Fort Collins Colorado, I long for a shady spot to sit quietly and read.

A look around Old Town seems suitable now. Ambling around a bohemian atmosphere of new age rock shops, indie music stores, and independent bookstores, I spot a shaded bench nearby a set of hanging bells and sit down to relax. With little ambition, I become tempted to test my musical talents on this beautiful chime. Uncharacteristically, I find the patience to window shop with my wife for no particular reason.

In the distance, I gaze in awe at the snow peaked vistas of the Rocky Mountains. The mere glimpse of this towering expanse in morning glory hypnotizes my present attention. Breathing in and out deeply, I savor the opportunity I have been given to witness the slow unfolding of such ineffable beauty, alive and healthy today.

No longer a product of my ego or possessions, I seek inner satisfaction in the presence of nature’s calling. A “minimalist” outlook for traveling lightly on the road this spring/summer has set the tone for a more permanent downsize of my material possessions in retirement. The true test of this resolve will take place when I return home to my familiar routine of staying obsessively entertained in busy South Florida.

My wife and I continued our tour of the Midwest in Kansas City, Missouri. Fortunate arrival timing and seasonable weather conditions allowed us to have an enjoyable weekend of major league baseball, live music, and military pageantry. Finding no problem in booking an affordable motel near several, major sights, we set out the following morning on a walking itinerary of the downtown area.

During the golden era of railroads in the early 20th century, Union Station became a major hub of transportation in downtown KC. It remains today as a great symbol of civic pride. Beginning our walk through this historic terminal, we heard melodic echoes emanating through the busy corridors. Stepping outside the front entrance, we amazingly witnessed a crowd of more than 20,000 people celebrating a festive, military concert of the Kansas City Symphony. A program of proud, patriotic music unfolded now, to demonstrate that there is a serious commitment in this city to honor those men and women, who paid the ultimate price, for our country to remain free.

At the corner of 18th Street and Vine, our next destination became the American Jazz/Negro Baseball Museum. As a major center of Black American achievement in Kansas City, I quickly learned from the exhibits that there was also a hidden story of institutionalized racism behind these important, American art forms. To gifted pianist Count Basie and other talented black musicians, Kansas City once meant a lack of opportunity to play in white-only dance bands. To pitching legend Satchel Paige and other African American athletes, poorly funded, Negro baseball leagues were their only option in an era of race segregated, major league baseball,

Driving to the eastern suburbs of K.C, we caught sight of Kauffman Stadium. Winning the World Series of baseball in 2016, the Kansas City Royals had achieved the pinnacle of success for America’s national pastime. As this stadium fills every night with winning baseball, we were thrilled to obtain two, decently priced tickets in the upper deck of Royals stadium. As the game proceeded, I witnessed a team of relatively unknown players unselfishly overachieve with timely hitting, great hustle, and reliable pitching. On this night, we felt their contagious energy as they efficiently handled the opposing team while royal blue remained the talk of this baseball crazy town.

I learned this busy weekend that Kansas City immortalizes the lives of its hometown heroes. Many of them rose from humble circumstances in early life to attain legendary status in public leadership, professional baseball and new forms of creative music. Being so immersed in this historical sample of KC society, I saw firsthand evidence that American greatness in this heartland of Missouri remains strong.

Last summer, my wife and I blew through the Ozark Mountains of Arkansas on way to visit a friend in Texas. East coast bias as it is, I prematurely labeled the area as somewhat primitive as a result of its woodsy nothingness I observed along the way. In returning this summer to Eureka Springs, a place I had only briefly seen before, I realized then my previous failure to identify the true essence of Ozark country.

Although Eureka Springs contains less than 3,000 full time residents, it plays bigger as a tourist destination. People come to relax here from the stresses of urban life to experience a time warp taste of small town hospitality. No rush today, you can sit quietly by a natural spring or window shop for antiques at your leisure. You might even find the urge to hop on a local streetcar to absorb the slower pace of life surrounding you.

It seemed odd to this city hardened dweller that everyone appears so trustingly amiable. Along a steep, hill, I spotted a 1962 classic Pontiac. The owner appeared willing to give me a grand tour of the vehicle. A proprietor of a local bead store provided hometown advice to my wife for making free bead designs. A morning breakfast at our motel became a trusting exchange of conversation about family matters and life crises.

What I most learned from my brief experience of the Ozarks is that a nostalgia for my past memories of close knit friends and family remains strong. There was once a time in my life when I played after school until dusk with neighborhood friends, listened attentively to mom and dad at nightly family gatherings around the dinner table and told silly jokes to fellow YMCA members near the campfire.

Paying homage to the quirky friendliness of the Ozark region, the following joke seems appropriate. “An Arkansas farmer brought his hog to the Barber Shop one day. The barber humbly asked the man what services were required. In response, he tersely stated;  “Gimme me a haircut, but I need my Razorback.”

The “rocky road” that consumed my mind to re- experience a champion sports team in Cleveland, Ohio is over. As a 12 year old child of nearby Akron in 1964, I witnessed a heavily underdog Cleveland Browns team led by fullback, Jimmy Brown, destroy the Baltimore Colts 27-0 in the National Football League Championship game. My parents had relocated our family to South Florida at that time but I never lost the youthful passion for winning that this city had given me that day. How odd that it would take 52 years of sports futility for this to finally happen again. Thank you Cleveland Cavaliers and especially LeBron James. As NBA basketball title holders in 2016, a lifetime of Cleveland sports failure has finally ended for me.

When Akron resident, LeBron James rejoined the Cavaliers, two years ago, he understood the pain of the Cleveland sports fan. Foregoing the temptation to maintain his superstar presence on a proven, Miami Heat powerhouse, he longed for a more lasting presence. In addition to offering his unique, basketball talent, LeBron’s aura of success personified the blue collar mentality of Cleveland as a city. Work hard, nothing comes easy, and remain humble to the cause, became the mantras of this true, American hero on the court and off now. It would only be a matter of time then that the city’s renewed love affair with its hometown hero would logically end in the attainment of a coveted, basketball title.

Game 5, 6, and 7 of the NBA finals demonstrated LeBron’s leadership commitments to these high ideals. Down three games to one to a Golden State team that had only lost nine games all season, the Cavaliers became the first team in NBA history to win a championship under such losing circumstances. Undeterred by these bleak prospects, LeBron’s offense and defensive brilliance and willingness to adjust his game in the face of physical intimidation, masterfully inspired his teammates to three, consecutive victories. As all eyes fell on him as the final game ended, the “King” would fall to his knees in silent reflection of this historic accomplishment.

The Cleveland curse is over for me now. I will no longer expend my energy on “fear of failure” neurosis that we will never win the big one in my lifetime. I will never dismiss Cleveland grit to envy New York, Miami, Los Angeles as “more glamorous  sports markets. I will never waste time in fretting over missed, game opportunities with unneeded boos. There has never been a better time for being “all in” with Cleveland now. Go Cavs, Go Browns, Go Indians.

I felt the ghosts of segregation as I walked the downtown streets of Montgomery, Alabama today. It was difficult to imagine a time when a black skinned person could be jailed if they sat in the front of a bus, took a seat at a restaurant lunch counter or attempted to enter a bus terminal through a whites only passageway. The evidence was clear at the Rosa Parks Museum, however, that these heinous acts of racial discrimination against African Americans were once sanctioned by law in this city.

What exactly it meant to be black as I followed the segregationist path of history at this museum confused me. If you looked white, but we’re actually a mulatto black, you might obtain a first class travel ticket. If you were white and painted your face black, you could be adored as a performer in a vaudeville minstrel show. At the federal level, a black could be protected by the equal protection provisions of the 14th amendment but at the state/local level they were sure to be denied basic rights by racist, Jim Crow laws. Accordingly, inner city, public schools were technically integrated by mixed race, yet white flight to suburban communities ultimately re-segregated them over time.

I took a short walk along Dexter Avenue to find the imposing presence of the Alabama State Capitol and the adjoining First White House of the Confederacy. Along the way, rebel flags flew as an anti-abortion protest took place nearby. It was here that Martin Luther King and his freedom fighters ended their peaceful march from Selma to Montgomery after being viciously attacked by angry, white supremacists along the way. Only a simple, Civil Rights Memorial plaque remains today to honor the forty one people who died in this infamous episode of American History.

As I concluded my brief glimpse of Montgomery’s turbulent past, signs of a better times became clear. A black college student spoke to me of her plans to obtain a doctoral degree in her hometown. Restaurants were filled with integrated gatherings of many races. The Confederate flag no longer flew atop of the conspicuous dome of the State Capitol. Rosa Parks’ courage to peacefully reject the injustices of a blatantly, racist system reminded me that Americans must have similar resolve to preserve their “liberty, justice, and pursuit of happiness” for all. Donald Trump’s example of perpetuating violence and distrust among our citizenry cannot be tolerated in this pivotal election year.

Prime Time of Life So Why Not Dance Away

My Time Our Time For When There Is No Care

Trouble Now Music Stops Before the Light of Day.

Precious Lives Gone No Longer Couples Pair

We Seek No Revenge For Vainglory Kill

For Smoke or Fire Grows Quickly Distant Foes

No Words Of  Blood Can Quell An Angry Will

That Finds A Place To Hell in Others Woes

See The World As A Place For All To Love

Find Inner Peace in Brethren We Serve

Will To Be One Oh Silence Mourning Dove

Gain Wisdom of Grace As Fallen Deserve

Anger Will Not Redress Dreams Gone Shattered

Our Souls Can Find Peace Our Lives Had Mattered

On a rainy, London morning, I sit quietly in my tiny, Bloomsbury flat, immersed in a neighborhood that is steeped in intellectual tradition. As an aspiring writer, I admire the mystical towers of Kings Cross Rail Station reminding me of the amazing wizardry of Harry Potter. As a history buff, the massive, British Museum collection is there to display evidence of the evolving greatness of world civilization. As a former professor, I walk near the renowned University of London to observe serious students of many cultures busily pursuing their dreams to pursue academic paths to address the uncertain dilemmas of our modern times. It seems clear that while London has often been ravaged by mass destruction in war, a high standard of excellence remains in the fields of science, education, and literature,

On the surface, one might envision London as a place where its citizenry pays homage to an out of touch, monarchical system governed by unalterable, class distinctions. One might be surprised, then, to know that the city of London recently elected its first, Islamic mayor, Sadiq Khan, to govern a population where over 12% of the population is considered to be of Muslim ethnicity. In a continent that has been continually ravaged by religious strife and war, London voters clearly have learned a lesson from history that an embrace of multiculturalism can be the right choice to manage national security in a dangerously violent world.

As I stumble along cobblestone alleys of Dickens and Darwin, I embrace the authentic feel of old English tradition. Resisting the path of gentrification, small pubs and shops line each street where catchy names – Fuzzy’s Grub, Neal’s Yard Remedies, and Lamb and Flag …provide motivation for me to engage in polite, friendly conversation with local sellers. Pub fare for me today seems suitable. Perhaps a lunch of mushy peas or bangers and mash accompanied by a quick conversation about soccer might suffice now. This might also be the afternoon that I relax for English high tea and an accompanying crumpet.

As our friend in war and peace, Londoners welcome American tourists with open arms. I wonder, however, how much damage to this legacy will take place if the hostile message of Donald Trump, ultimately isolates my country from its allies with his arrogantly defiant ways. Can my country go it alone to learn the lesson of sacrifice that Londoners experienced when Hitler’s invading WWII armies threatened to occupy British homeland? As “Big Ben” rings proudly in the distance now, freedom reigns true here. May I continue to live in a country that will honor this precious right as I return home in these truly irrational  times.

What a relief to have finally left the open sea to enter the southerly path of the Elbe River Narrows.This gateway to historic, Hamburg Germany functions as a maritime highway, with a noticeable gridlock of oil tankers, fishing boats and recreational yachts. It seems improbable that a large, cruise ship, such as ours could even traverse this busy waterway.

There is a plethora of action in the cold air over the Elbe as well. Overhead, helicopters buzz our boat as hungry sea birds hover for a free meal. German flags fly gloriously in their struggle with gusty conditions aboard ship. White trails of jet exhaust disperse into smoky clouds that partition the blue sky above.

Our cruise ship will now be guided by pilot boat for the remaining 37 miles to Hamburg through increasingly urban environs. This journey will seemingly give me a decent look at German wind and petrochemical power interspersed with fairy tale, town settlements of its medieval past. Nothing flashy, but certainly a testament to German efficiency.

With great enthusiasm, I hear that we dock near downtown Hamburg a day early. Amazingly, Hamburg celebrates a national holiday this weekend and the riverfront is choked with sea vessels of past and present. A carnival atmosphere of excitement develops as thousands of people make their way to the riverfront now to watch the great parade of ships

Realizing that my visit today would be a perfect time to obtain firsthand knowledge about the Elbe’s importance, I make my way to the downtown docks for a view of this maritime celebration. German sailors in spotless, white caps and uniforms stand proudly aboard their respective, military vessels. A young, Russian sailor smiles broadly at the crowd as he performs the tedious task of polishing his ship’s insignia. I make my around a long queue of avid, tour seekers nearest a modern, Polish vessel and realize that the Elbe is truly an international gateway for many countries around the world.

I return to my cruise ship now as the river parade ends. I stand on board the largest vessel on the river that day and wave back below at those who gaze in awe at the immensity of our presence ashore. It seems surreal that a massive city such as Hamburg could virtually shut down for the day to pay homage to its maritime glories. Home is where this welcoming spirit resides in me today on a sunny day above the Elbe River.

L

The first Saturday in June is a special day in a small, Nebraska town. USFman is in for a rare treat as he eagerly awaits his first visit to Val Days, a special gathering of family and friends on Town Square tonight. He imagines having a good time tonight at the invitation of his farming friend from the State Capitol.

“Hop aboard the Hillbilly Limousine as your wagon whisks you through the farmlands of America’s heartland to the highlight of tonight’s festivities: the barbecue competition. As always, there are three, home cooked categories to choose from – ribs, pork, and chicken. Fill your plate as high as you can and don’t worry about the calories. Pay close attention to your meal tickets and place them in the cardboard voting boxes of your choice as we dutifully do every June.”

“For extra entertainment, check out the nifty tractor and hot rods parked across the field. Don’t worry about the kids as the hayride wagon ride will keep them busy. Tonight would also be a great night to challenge a beer drinking buddy to a fierce contest of horseshoes or ring toss. If you’re still hungry, the snow cone stand is just around the corner. They even have root beer tonight.”

“Your Hawaiian shirt and urban sunglasses will definitely attract notice. So turn off your device and talk with some of the friendliest people you have ever met before. Slow down your pace for once and savor the beauty of the vast fields of gold beyond tonight. And most certainly you wouldn’t want to miss the grand finale: our legendary, awards ceremony for the first place, barbecue winner in town.”

Thoughts of reality creep into USFman’s mind now as he settles in to devour the immense plate of food he has selected. “Oh my God, someone just fainted in the barbecue tent. I would have called an ambulance immediately. Wait a minute, there are probably no hospitals for miles around here. Why do these people appear so disinterested and continue to eat? Oh well, chalk it up to the hard life on the prairie. Just remember that country people work hard, attend church, and by all means stay honest and humble.”

Our first stop after a solid week of sea days landed us in Beatleland, or Liverpool if you prefer. It’s not difficult to realize that the Beatles experience is the primary attraction here. Stepping off the cruise boat, a walk to the right along the Mersey River and my wife and I arrived at the tourist friendly, “Beatles Story Museum.” Deciding to skip this show of tour bus madness, we alternatively headed downtown to Matthew Street, where it all began for the Fab. Four.

Descending down steep stairs to the basement of the dark and dingy Cavern Club, we became immersed in authentic, Beatle history. Picture the blue shaded glasses of John Lennon and old guitars interspersed with famous concert photos taken of the Fab Four in these early, rock and roll times. Feel the cool vibe of memorable performances in this renowned venue like the Who, the Yardbirds, and Paul McCartney’s brother, who played regular “gigs” into the late night there.

Further along Matthew Street, we gazed with interest at the famous Music Wall where early British rock figures are memorialized in red brick partitions. Beatles memory shops lined the street to allow us ample time to purchase our obligatory souvenirs of the late 1960s era. Paying our respects to the John Lennon and Eleanor Rigby statue, we ended our return down Beatles memory lane in Liverpool. Returning to the cruise terminal, we admired surrounding yachts and tugboats painted in full psychedelic display. I regret that we lacked the time to venture out into the Liverpool suburbs to view the real Strawberry Fields and Penny Lane. Interestingly, cruising on our vessel today would be Pete Best, the original drummer of the Beatles. This mystery celebrity would talk live on board about his memories of crazed, 1960s Beatlemania.

Returning to Liverpool today was nostalgically memorable. Twenty five years ago, my wife and I attended a live concert in Liverpool with Paul McCartney and Wings. We stood for the entire concert screaming among throngs of Beatle lovers that day. Liverpool remains a very hip place to appreciate that time when five, unknown musicians- Paul, John, George, Ringo, and Pete began a legacy to become the greatest rock and roll band of all time.