“You can shake the sand from your shoes but not from your soul.”(Florida Keys Promotion)

As December arrived and hurricane season ended, it seemed the ideal time for Ruth and I to relax with a three day, Florida Keys interlude away from crowded South Florida before the upcoming tourist season arrived. We intended to enjoy a scenic drive south on this brief vacation along the U.S. 1 “Overseas Highway ending up in Key West for some engaging tropical amusement. Skirting west on the Florida Turnpike Extension to avoid the congested urban chaos of Miami on this surprisingly chilly Tuesday morning, we began to notice a stiff breeze blowing inland from the latest cold that had settled in overnight. Entering the Upper Keys in Key Largo, our first bridge crossings would now begin as the normally aqua serene waters of the surrounding bays appeared churned up by such gusty winds into a pale green torrent of rising, wave swept conditions. So why had we chosen to wear only an informal attire of shorts, flimsy tops, and no jacket today on this blustery morning today?

Continuing south to Islamorada, I then reflected fondly of those nostalgic days past of seafood feasts, hometown cafes, and music festivals when stone crabs, lobster, and tropical grogs were once purchased at more affordable prices. Traveling further along the Middle Keys and its shrinking land areas interspersed with adjacent shore inlets, I noted the stoic presence of fishermen braving the harsh weather conditions that morning along bridge catwalk corridors. During those moments, it seemed surreal to recall that I once had joined this parade of sea-hardened vagabonds to cast my fishing reel over these windswept waters to patiently await the big catch of the day.

Crossing through Marathon into the Lower Keys region, additional  memories of past youthful exuberance surfaced as we entered the spectacular overlook section of the Seven Mile Bridge. For in the 1980s. I twice ran the entire length of this bridge as a participant in long distance, run competitions. It felt exhilarating to feel an explosion of positive energy in this 2020 bridge crossing by being in sync again with wild ocean nature that I once had so euphorically experienced as a runner there. Settling into our quaint motel resembling a South Beach, “Art Deco” like structure in mid afternoon, our first evening would end quietly with a slow saunter along a holiday-decorated walkway in the heart of Old Town Key West. What new excitement then might lie ahead for us tomorrow and Thursday for these well seasoned travelers on this brief winter journey? Enjoy the photographs below.

“In order to understand more it is imperative that we improve our knowledge before choosing which side of the fence we feel compelled to belong.” (J.P. Robinson)

You might have fallen in in love with a beautiful mermaid. Or perhaps you could profess holding a meaningful conversation with a leprechaun, elf, or even a green headed space alien. The list of possibilities for alternative truth thus seemed endless at the annual indoor convention of the “Flights of Imagination Society” held during the second week of November in Memphis, Tennessee. You might wonder then what were these predominately unmasked participants like, that so fervently dedicated their vacation time to redefine their own realities of life during this “electric” vibe spectacle. As I curiously strolled amid the energized crowd during the three day festivities, I can share with you some captivating observations where seemingly no one was “playing possum” with their deep seated beliefs.

You might know then the majority of the attendees I met led seemingly routine lives on the surface as tax paying, middle class Americans. Yet underlying such apparent normality, it became clear to me upon closer inspection that an intense level of distrust in scientific fact and established truth pervaded the crowd atmosphere here. On several occasions on the floor of the indoor auditorium, for instance, I noted how so many of them vocally expressed their discontent with scouring traditional sources of information like printed newspapers and electronic social media. It follows from these conversations that they accordingly foresaw no drawbacks in subscribing to alternative dogma supportive of extremist cults and conspiracy theories prevailing amid the country today.

Let’s examine a few individuals more deeply that I conversed with in perusing the various promotional exhibits during these sessions. I thus vividly recall Mary and John, two backwoods rebels in Maine, who swore blind rejection of science in feverish praise, while boldly stating as well that they believed a species of reptilian lizards was currently running a dysfunctional government in this country. Then there was Glenn and Joe from Alabama, whose extreme right wing advocacy as part of the “Bringum Boys” movement publicized that public school children were being poisoned by morning juice boxes that turned them “gay.” Of final note, I reveal my intimate conversation with old timers Wendell and Allie, two devout Christian ranchers from Texas, whose spiritual compass revealed to me a belief in their “flesh and blood” conversation at a crop- circles field with the physical presence of God.

On the last day of the convention, an unexpected event happened that severely impacted the closing proceedings. For on that fateful Saturday morning of November 9th, a “dead silence” ensued in the auditorium upon hearing media reports that the current President of the States had been defeated in the present election. But what happened after that moment can be best described as pure chaos as vengeful shouts of anger intensified amid the stunned throng throughout the remainder of that morning. I slowly concluded then how deeply revered the dethroned “King of Conspiracy Theory” had been to so many of these mutinous disobeyers of fact at this festival. Great optimism exploded in my mind for I now realized that today’s victory for  truth and reason would become the correct path for healing my county’s current woes in the years ahead.

“When you arise in the morning, give thanks for the food and for the joy of living. If you see no reason for giving thanks, the fault lies only in yourself. “(Tecumseh)

Jackson typically led a quietly unspectacular life in his small, Midwestern Iowa hometown. His favorite times happened in those private moments of worshipping at church, walking his dog, and spending quality time with the family. As he never imagined himself as the type for lavish social celebration, the upcoming Thanksgiving holiday for him normally seemed to be a foolish facade of food – filled excess. Yet there had been earlier signs that Jackson wanted to “break out” of his self confining shell. For in October, he began to deliver overstuffed food baskets and Corona preventive masks to homeless people as a volunteer advocate downtown. Clearly, he had demonstrated on those occasions, a stronger compassion awareness for these poverty stricken pawns of the system. As the Corona pandemic deepened again in his surrounding community in early November,  Jackson’s new activism began to manifest in other ways. For he began to engage in vehement,  public protest speeches on social media in response to encountering town residents who were not wearing their masks or taking socially distanced gatherings seriously.

Jackson’s changing persona of assertiveness would continue to intensify during his latest food basket “run”on the day before Thanksgiving. For what pangs of guilt would drive him to embrace Freddie, a talented homeless man who bellowed out offensive rap song lyrics to him upon being given his turkey basket on the town square? For what purpose as well would the suddenly bolder Jackson fervently coach other unfortunate individuals “surviving on the street” to then join Freddie in forming a chaotic choir of feast filled gratitude with some talented singing efforts of their own? As dusk fell early on that Thanksgiving Eve, he also organized a homeless conga line along this unsanitary street pavement. So why would our “new look” Jackson next take the time to lead this scraggly group of Corona masked wanderers in “Pied Piper” fashion around the entire town?

With so many curious onlookers in town witnessing this parade of homeless victims  that night, Jackson had thus spread a realistic measure of truth with his intended leadership message. Wake up people. Go ahead an enjoy the holiday in private tomorrow. Feast on turkey,  relive past times,  play with the kids,  or indulge in whatever “suits your fancy”. But let’s remember to give thanks that our lives are worth living for for ALL! Happy Birthday Joe Biden.

“The world is a book and those who do not travel, read only one page.” (Saint Augustine)

Are you feeling a persistent urge to “get out and about” these days amid the continuing crisis of the Corona pandemic lockdown? In fact, clear evidence has accumulated that there lies a genetic component in those who possess such “Wanderlust” predispositions in their day to day existence. Perhaps you then would like to shed some light on how deeply the “spirit of travel” urge runs within your soul. So I have added a live poll below for you to complete in order for you to obtain a rough idea of your “Wanderlust” intensity and how your results compares with other readers who have likewise completed this survey . It’s likely that the more yes responses you select, the stronger your “Wanderlust” compulsion. For more information about the scientific explanation of “Wanderlust”, click on the following link.

“Democracy is based upon the conviction there are extraordinary possibilities in ordinary people.” (Harry Emerson Fosdick)

When Ruth and I embarked on our most recent road trip on September 26, I realized an opportunity that our cross country travels would place us in an advantageous position of seeing firsthand some 2020 pre-election vibe in places we would visit along the way. With no particular strategy in mind for the most part, we soon experienced some extreme political messaging amid the Deep South, Midwest, and Rocky Mountain regions of our country.

One striking caption for example posted on billboards along I-95 in the Carolinas compared Donald Trump’s status as a religious savior on par with God. Another catchy phrase posted on the side of a parking delivery truck in farmland Iowa made reference for Trump “Degenerates” to rally now for him in “Let’s Roll” style. Mobile messaging for Trump most prominently took place as well on passenger cargo trucks in rural counties with “Make America Great Again” banners flashing in the breeze. In striking contrast to the Trump Ad blitz we encountered then, Biden/Harris signs throughout the trip were found “far and few between.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“The liberties of our country , the freedom of our civil constitution, are worth defending against all hazards. And it is our duty to defend them against all attacks.” (Samuel Adams)

A recent road trip visit to the History Colorado Center in Denver inspired me to post a photographic showcase below of America’s long and glorious struggle to sustain the ideals of democracy in our country’s past. As you observe these images, some key questions of current interest from this exhibit quickly emerge for you to consider then about how “power to the people” matters. To what extent does the survival of democracy set the stage for voting behavior as Election Day nears? Does Democracy’s continuance seem worth the fight to you at this critical juncture in our country’s history? With which Presidential candidate do you stand on this issue then as a responsible voter?

“Everyone must take the time to sit and watch the leaves turn.”(Elizabeth Lawrence)

Perhaps the most rewarding part of our latest road trip for me has been the opportunity to slow down from life’s challenges and simply embrace the subtle nuances of autumn’s seasonal glories. In this regard, it certainly helped that I took some time at the end of our vacation to re- witness some nostalgic October memories of childhood play in my former hometown of Cuyahoga Fall, Ohio today. For I possessed a strong desire to curiously frolick again amid a colorfully canopied ambience of dying leaves in the heavily forested lands along the Cuyahoga River Valley then. Somewhat sadly, I must soon return again to my home of unchanging subtropical greenery in South Florida. So understand how the following picture show from this  Northeast Ohio visit affects my heart and mind with autumn filled exuberance today.

“ The answers you seek never come when the mind is busy, they come when the mind is still.” (Leon Brown)

Every once in awhile in my mentally taxing urban life in South Florida, I daydream of a lone wolf howling atop a snowy mountain in the utter stillness of wild mountainous nature. That event means its time for Ruth and us to plan visiting Steamboat Springs, Colorado again for a heavy dose of Rocky Mountain solitude. So it would become no surprise that we would spend a well needed two weeks of our current road trip “lying low” in Steamboat in Mid October to savor the simple pleasures of autumn’s silent seasonal glories.

Consider then that I am the kind of person who struggles to sustain his minute by minute concentration on everyday activities like reading, writing, and listening. Yet I had no problem allotting a sizable amount of time during our present Steamboat visit to focus my extended attention out my motel bedroom window at wild nature’s changing presence. At such times I fixated with imaginative pleasure at such details as a colorful mass of falling leaves, the subtle shading of sun/cloud colors, or first falling, mountaintop snowfall. Adventuring out of town to Pearl Lake and Stagecoach State Parks, I felt my rhythmic breaths of the chilly Colorado air suddenly slow in yogic like meditation as I stood in stoic silence for several minutes amid the nearby presence of two mountainside lakes.

Yes, I am truly hooked on living the illusion of Steamboat stillness reminiscent perhaps of a timeless Monet painting. For while Steamboat functions clearly as a tourist town with an abundance of local eateries, western shops and trendy outdoor activities, I prefer the simple therapeutic “high” of doing nothing here but being sensory- alive. So take a close look at each of the following photographs from our latest Steamboat stopover. You might imagine such activity stillness as an integral part of your own life story.

“To be far from the madding crowd is to be mad indeed.” (A.E. Coppard)

One of the most frustrating aspects of the lingering Corona problem for so many global minded wanderers as we are today manifests in the long term impact of international travel restrictions being enforced now and likely in the unforeseeable future. So Ruth and I in particular realize that if we are unable to soon visit the historic “old town” centers of cities like Vienna, Prague, and Munich… in person, then we should concentrate on finding places that genuinely resemble them as part of our current road trip travels.

So during week two of our present adventure, we booked a two night stopover at the Vinchester Inn in the historic town of Hermann, Missouri. Known for it’s rich German heritage, our first impression of Hermann,  founded by German immigrants in 1836 seemed to confirm the authentic atmosphere of “Little Germany” we so desired. For as we ambled from our hotel the next morning along Schiller Street toward the Missouri River, we gazed wondrously at such quaint brick structures as Chalet Luzern, Hermann House Gasthaus ,Weinkeller Hermannhof, and the Inn at Hermannhof along our way. Enjoying tasty brat and sausage cuisine at Hermann Wurst House afterward would suitably fill our desired German agenda as well. After lunch, our walking tour of Hermann’s Germanic influence would continue along the south bank of the Missouri river which served as a historic transportation hub for Hermann’s citizenry so successfully in the past. For German settlers once made Hermann one of the largest wine producing markets in the world during the steamboat/railroad era of the late 19th century. 

So how might I assess our one day tour of Hermann now? Overall, I sensed that merely spotting the facades of Germanic looking building there seemed somewhat dull. For with the social isolation of the Corona pandemic deepening, the lack of opportunity here of enjoying diverse human contact as we typically encounter in the big cities of Europe certainly dampened our tourist interest today. So the festive atmosphere of German music, costume, or cookery amid “Oktoberfest” or a beer hall encounter will have to wait for a real visit to Bavaria hopefully in autumn, 2021. Enjoy the following photo display.

Note: For those of you who wish to find other small towns to visit in America of strong European resemblance, click on the website below sent to me recently by my blogger friend Sherry.

https://lbfromlv.wordpress.com/2020/08/14/ten-american-towns-that-feel-like-europe-by-jennifer-nalewicki-smithsonianmag-com-august-11-2020/