Category Archives: impediments

The Chain and the Dominoes

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Posted by on in Assistance, collaborating, Community, impediments, Inspiration, Matters of Faith, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

April 6, 2022, Houston- The message came over the loudspeaker: “Folks, we are waiting here (6 miles west of Lake Charles, LA), until a freight train heading west (it was actually heading east), is able to pass.” The message came from the spirit world: “The train in question is loaded with flammable materials. It is being held up by a safety check of the cars.” As it happened, the process took one hour. An eastbound freight train passed us, we passed a sidelined westbound train, that was loaded with about thirty-five flammable tanks and cars. This gargantuan city would take another two hours and thirty minutes to reach, from our perch between Lake Charles and Vinton.

Then came the real game changer: On Sunday, April 2, a rail bridge near Dryden, in the Trans-Pecos region of West Texas, caught fire, for the second time this year. All Amtrak passengers would have to disembark in San Antonio. Two of my car mates opted to fly from Houston. I have a commitment, call it what you will, to staying on the ground, this trip. So, a quick phone call secured a room for yours truly at Alamo Inn, San Antonio. I will be in one of my favourite Texas cities, for however many hours are left before check-out. Thus shall a day that has revealed both the interconnectedness of us all, and the fragility of that connection, have played out.

The day started nicely enough, with a shower, good coffee and a quiet hour or so of reflection, at The Quisby Hotel, another welcoming hostel-in a chain of safe havens that I have been fortunate to locate, over the past four years. The Quisby is in New Orleans’ Garden District, across a busy freeway from the Big Easy’s AMTRAK station. I will most certainly seek a place there, whenever my route takes me through NOLA.

A kind and honest driver came to get me at the appointed time. I was assigned a seat on Car # 2, we got underway on time and were efficiently headed west-until the debate at AMTRAK headquarters, as to how to handle our train, in light of the bridge fire, was resolved. A plan was announced to offer each of us a ride back to our place of embarkation (for me, that was New Orleans, and I already knew that the Quisby was going to be full, this evening. Besides, I have commitments in Prescott, this weekend. I will take a bus, if necessary.

The other chain of dominoes that is ever more tightly-connected is with my Baha’i study groups. As I remarked to members of one such group, we will be ever more engaged in threading the needles of various individual and collective needs, in the days and months ahead.

It will be late, very late, when we get to San Antonio, but I know it will be alright.

Through A Water Wonderland

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Posted by on in Assistance, collaborating, Family, impediments, Inspiration, Matters of Faith, Personal Values, Service Activities, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel, Uncategorized

April 5, 2022, Meridian, MS-

Peachtree Amtrak Station, Atlanta

The train pulled out of Peachtree Station, nearly an hour behind schedule. We have made progress, by fits and starts, along the way towards New Orleans. Now, we are leaving the commercial hub of eastern Mississippi. This is where the Atlanta crew got off and a crew that will be with us, until New Orleans, has come on.

The journey from Atlanta was through rain, until we got to Birmingham.

Downtown Birmingham, AL

Since then, the skies have been clear and the ground has been wet. Wetlands and rivers abound, through the central swath of Alabama and Mississippi. The Black Warrior and Tombigbee are particularly dominant. The former (below) has been made into a series of reservoirs.

Black Warrior River, near Tuscaloosa, AL

Ms. Blackstone, sitting across from me, put the whole concept of why some of us go on journeys into perspective-and one that fits nicely with the conversation I had with my brother, Dave, last night. In her view, each of us who goes out each day, whether close to home or further afield, is on assignment from the Holy Spirit. This helps explain the seeming randomness of some of the events that take place-who we meet, where we meet them and the tenor of our interactions. It also explains both the pleasant and less than pleasant events that happen, and the lessons drawn from each. It also gives me an affirmation that I am on the right course in this life.

In a few short days, I will be back at Home Base, with a full slate of “assignments” from the Creator of us all. I wish Ms. Blackstone well, in her daily work and am certain that, despite the dark clouds that encircle so much of humanity, the forces of division and darkness that prey on the fears of so many will fall short in their efforts to ensnare the human race.

Through downpours, tornadoes, bombs and bombast, stay strong.

Down to Earth In A Sonesta

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Posted by on in children, collaborating, Community, distraction issues, Education, Family, impediments, Inner Struggles, Inspiration, Personal goals, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

April 3, 2022, Atlanta- I left Heart of Dixie Motel, the fixer-upper that did not even have its own towels. (I had my own, for just such an eventuality.) It was mid-morning and I had plenty of time to get up here, to mid-town Atlanta, by the time I was to host a Zoom call. So it went, and the two paradigms of life in America stood in contrast to one another. Rural Dadeville, with mostly comfortable single family homes and a motel or two to house migrant workers, just up the road from the aspiring surrounds of Lake Martin-a fishing and boating mecca that gives east central Alabama a much-needed boost, versus Atlanta, the symbol of the South that rose again, with every amenity that one could call upon.

I find myself in a Sonesta Hotel, one of those which have become part of the system first established by A.M. Sonnabend, a Boston-based entrepreneur, of whom I heard as a child. Mr. Sonnabend lent the first three letters of his name to the brand-“Son”esta. I worked in a Sonesta, in Bangor, Maine, for a few months, in 1976-7, while simultaneously feeling my way in the newly-emerging field of educating the emotionally-disabled. I held my own in that motel job, and may actually have been better off sticking with the field, at least until I got my head on straighter. Things happen the way they should, though, and here I am, 46 years later, glad to have reached equilibrium in my life and impacted a fair number of children and youth in a positive way.

The next day or two will find me bidding farewell to the Hyundai Sonata, which safely took me to Miami Beach and back, via Brunswick, Amelia Island, Kennedy Space Center, Key West, Big Cypress, Naples (FL), Lake Okeechobee, Tampa-St. Petersburg, Spring Hill, and the Carter Country of southwest Georgia. Thinking things through, in the safety of a comfortable hotel room, is not hard. I have Celtic music gently playing and the knowledge that, although the faith-based activities I hoped to have included in this journey were eclipsed by lingering pandemic-related restrictions, I did right by family members along the way and made new, if fleeting, friendships-with people I may very well encounter again in the future. I kept the online meeting commitments I had, that either did not conflict with family engagements or get rendered cumbersome by lack of a proper venue at the time they were scheduled.

Above all else, I did not fold, did not collapse or get shaken by either aloneness or by the ignorance of others who did not honour my presence, even though I did theirs. March was both a hard energy month and a stage filled with opportunities for growth. April, May and June will bring more of the latter-mostly around Home Base, but with another likely journey of observation and service, towards the end of Spring.

The flutes and strings are telling me to be gentle with self and re-group, in any way that such is needed.

Two Voices of Reason, and Their Opposites

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Posted by on in Assistance, collaborating, Community, Education, Historical, impediments, Inner Struggles, Inspiration, Personal Values, Service Activities, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

April 2, 2022, Dadeville, AL- “Behold a tree. Does it speak to us thusly: ‘Don’t you see that God is not working Himself into a frenzy in me? I am calmly, quietly, silently pouring forth my life and bringing forth fruit. ‘ Do thou likewise.”-Clarence Jordan

Mr. Jordan was one of the founders of Koinonia Farm, an intentional experiment in Christian living, which began in 1942, west of Americus, GA. Together with his wife, Florence, and colleagues Martin and Mabel England, he built a community based on the brotherhood and sisterhood of all people. This brought hostility from those who were afraid of racial equality, with Ku Klux Klan attacks and drive-by shootings, as well as bombings in the 1950s.

Koinonia’s response was nonviolence and prayer. The founders, and the community, survived nicely, and the enterprise remains as it was founded, rooted in love and prayer. Clarence passed away in 1969. Out of Koinonia’s ministerial efforts have come Habitat for Humanity, and The Fuller Center for Housing. Koinonia remains a fully-functioning cooperative farm.

Here are some scenes of the property, which I visited this morning.

Koinonia Farm Welcome Center, west of Americus
View of the Main Campus, from Welcome Center
Dried mud beehive oven, Koinonia Farm
Jubilee House-one of several residences and guest houses on Koinonia
Koinonia Chapel, across the road from the farm.

An example of an unreasoning individual showed up, as I was preparing to turn left into the chapel’s driveway, and passed my car, on a double yellow line, in the opposite lane, seconds before I would have turned, had I not felt the energy telling me-“WAIT!” The vehicle must have been moving at 50 mph, leaving the road and bouncing back on it, about fifteen seconds later.

Jimmy Carter, the 39th President of the United States, is still alive, at age 97. He lives with his wife Rosalynn, on a private compound, in Plains, GA, where they grew up. Plains proudly holds its favourite son and daughter to its heart. The small downtown bears the imprint of the U.S. National Park Service. While not everyone on the block is a fan of Mr. Carter, those who grew up there are.

The east end of downtown Plains
and the west end.
Downtown Plains Park

Two very positive shop owners were the proprietor of a peanut butter ice cream parlor, who is a native of Plains and a small cash dispenser/convenience store owner, who comes from Sri Lanka. The owner of Plains Trading Post has one of the largest troves of political memorabilia and media, in the nation. I will leave it at that. He has several rare books on various historical topics. I bought one, as a gift to a family member.

At the Jimmy Carter National Historical Site, on the campus of the former Plains High School, it was noteworthy that one of the strongest influences on Mr. Carter was his school’s lead educator, Miss Julia Coleman-who was a pedagogically active Superintendent. Miss Coleman (She rejected the title, Ms.) was active in community gardening and took a personal interest in both the white and black schools, and their students. It dismayed her that there was so much resistance to integration of the two student bodies, even as late as 1965.

The Friendship Garden of Miss Julia Coleman

The fullness of Jimmy Carter’s life is well-depicted in the 25-minute video that is shown in the historical site’s auditorium. I hope to learn more, at the Carter Center, his Presidential Library, in Atlanta-but not until my next visit in the area. (Mr. Carter believes on keeping the Sabbath, so the facility is closed on Sunday). Needless to say, his legacy is already one of the most genuine and consistently enriched, of all the Presidents.

Tuskegee Airmen National Historic Site is situated at the very field where the men trained. Just north of the city of Tuskegee, Alabama, it is a spacious area, and is still used as a training site for pilots of small aircraft.

Main Gate to Tuskegee Army Air Corps Training Facility
These skeletal structures represent the Army Supply Building (foreground) and the Cadet House (background).
Hangar # 1, Tuskegee Army Air Corps Training Field

This hangar contains examples of two training airplanes, a plane motor and has audio presentations of several different players in the endeavour. Women served as security, parachute preparers, and aircraft mechanics.

Homage to Dr. Robert Moton, who fostered this airfield
Replica of a training biplane
View of Tuskegee Airfield training complex, from the upper parking lot

It was a full day, and I admit to being a bit less energetic than the various people zipping along the backroads of Alabama, while I headed to and from Oskar’s Cafe, and Heart of Dixie Motel, Dadeville. Oskar’s has modest, but very filling portions-continuing in the spirit of Georgia and Florida. Madolyn was another very focused and energetic server. The motel needs a lot of work, but it’s clean and safe.

Tomorrow, I head back to Atlanta, for a day or two.

Mirror Images

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Posted by on in Assistance, collaborating, Community, Family, impediments, Inner Struggles, Inspiration, Personal Values, Service Activities, Social, Striving, Travel

March 31, 2022, Americus, GA- The young server’s energy seemed to fill the room, as she took my order one minute, helped her boss set up for a birthday group the next and returned with my drink and two sets of checks for departing patrons, three minutes later. It was clear from her focus and poise that P enjoys her job, and equally clear that she is destined for higher ground. For now, she is everywhere at once, in Cowboys Firepit Grill.

Earlier in the day, I had a couple of lengthy conversations with T, who seemed to be almost a permanent desk clerk at the motel where I stayed, in Weeki Wachee, Florida-more a sign of the times, than an overwhelming desire on her part to hang out at her workplace. Shining through our talks were her love for, and worry over, her daughter (what single parent doesn’t wish for more time with their child?), and her focus on the quality of service provided by the motel.

When I went to a branch of my bank, in Lutz-about forty minutes southeast of Weeki Wachee, in order to take care of my April apartment rent, long distance, D, the teller, took the time to walk me through navigation of the bank’s application on my phone, and processed the transaction as quickly as my account’s minders back in Arizona would allow-which was ten minutes. During this time, D also helped three other customers get either started or finished with their transactions. He also showed me that the bank has an electronic money transfer system that is shared by my landlord’s bank-for future reference. This will certainly make things easier, the next time I’m on the road at the end of a month.

There have been several slackers I’ve encountered on this observational journey, but the three people I mention above, a teenaged woman, a thirty-something single mother and a man in his mid-twenties, embody the kind of work ethic that so many people my age see as having gone by the wayside. Diligence and pride in work are far from dead. None of these people gave an inch in their attention to detail or maintenance of professional standards. Thus did they also mirror my younger sister-in-law, who works two jobs, and with whom I had dinner on Wednesday evening. They mirror my middle brother, who worked diligently in the management of four companies, over a forty-year period, and who hosted me at his home, at the beginning of this trip. I see some of myself in each of the three, though I wish I’d had their focus, at a comparable stage in my own working life.

In short, pride in work is far from passe’. P told me to be sure to stop by again, if I am in the area. I’ll do her one better and pass the word on Cowboys Firepit Grill and Bar, Lake Park, GA, to my brother and his crew back in Atlanta. It’s worth the time, especially as he likes exploring small towns around Georgia.

Cognitive Dissonance

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Posted by on in collaborating, Community, distraction issues, Education, impediments, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Striving

March 30, 2022, Weeki Wachee, FL- The hapless individual, wearing a health agency tee shirt, began to clutch the area just below her rib cage. Her nurse friends got a chair and had her sit down, while they summoned a team to offer a higher level of care. Those in the waiting area made sure that she did not fall out of the chair, in the interim. Her pain did not abate and within twenty minutes, an ambulance arrived and took her to a larger facility.

The psychologist Leon Festinger offers the theory that much disbelief that interferes with a person acknowledging what is clearly taking place in front of him, is the result of cognitive dissonance-the distinction between normative unfolding of events (“business as usual”) and a drastic, wholly unexpected changed sequence of events, which is nonetheless real.

It took me a few seconds to look past the tee-shirt and see only another human being in acute distress. Yes, my guard was up for her safety until a proper team gathered around her and off they went to hospital. I relayed the gist of this incident to others without, of course, identifying so much as the location of the facility. My presence there was only to get a few stitches removed, from a procedure that was done two weeks ago. That matter took mere minutes. The poor lady’s husband arrived on scene and was likewise driven to her hospital by a close friend of theirs. Their ordeal may well have taken hours, perhaps much longer.

The cognitive dissonance that is vocalized by “It can’t happen here!”, is again and again being tossed in our faces, by a system that is collapsing, in one way nor another-and is being replaced by a structure that is both ground up and side by side. There is a top down element, but it is not the sort that the once dominant forces think they want. Those whose mantra is the above statement cannot but be increasingly confused by all that seems to be happening around us.

I am more certain that many of the changes we see will redound to the betterment of the human race. Those that don’t do so will likely bring changes in other ways, that will be to our betterment over time. We could discuss this all night, but it’s time for this one to rest.

Lake O

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Posted by on in collaborating, Community, Hiking and Nature, impediments, Personal Values, Social, Striving, Travel

March 28, 2022, Tampa- The boaters, bicyclists and joggers were out in force, on Sunday night. Not so, the swimmers. Lake Okeechobee has been something of a sink, for pesticides, over the past half-century. It is a matter of expedience, for the sugar industry and other agricultural concerns-with only passing interest in the welfare of their neighbours on either coast. Fort Myers, on the Gulf, gets much of the toxic release, but Palm Beach isn’t spared either. More consistent watchers than yours truly point out: https://www.tcpalm.com/story/opinion/2022/01/14/florida-must-enforce-pollution-rules-lake-okeechobee-our-view/6510462001/.

I can see where this body of water could easily be another bonus for Florida, if the will to correct archaic views on the processing of sugar and the disposal of toxic elements were in place. The berms would have to come down, and jetties/marinas built, over a decade of correction. We have seen cases where people in Belle Glade, on the south shore of “Lake O” and Pahokee, on the north shore, became terribly ill from the presence of waste that got into their drinking water. That aspect has been somewhat corrected- Big Sugar can’t have its workforce debilitated. The plagues that hit both coasts, though, with algae blooms off Fort Myers, Cape Coral and Port St. Lucie, in recent years, have scarcely been addressed.

I spent about six hours in Clewiston, on the southwest corner of Okeechobee, just long enough to see the effects of the current malaise on the populace. As in any community with a naturally salubrious environment that has been ravaged, (Gary, IN and Niagara Falls, NY also come to mind), there is fair measure of civic pride, just below the surface. The manager of the motel, where I stayed on Sunday night was effusive in telling me about the places “where the action is” and was outside in the evening, hosing down the parking lot-just enough so there was no runoff. Lake Okeechobee has a trail encircling it, which ought to be an integral part of a tourist and hiker-infused economy.

Back channel at Lake Okeechobee, Clewiston, FL
Channel shore, Lake Okeechobee, Clewiston

“Another Day In Paradise”

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Posted by on in Assistance, collaborating, Community, Historical, impediments, Inspiration, Personal Values, Service Activities, Social, Striving, Travel, Uncategorized

March 21, 2022, West Melbourne, FL- The day began and ended with the above comment-from two different motel employees: A handyman in Brunswick and a desk clerk here in West Melbourne. Part of my whole reason for being here in the Southeast is to discern how ordinary people are faring, under the blend of libertarianism and laissez-faire economics that is taking deeper root in this part of the country.

I have no issue with any given practice of government when the average person, across ethnicities and genders, is not made to suffer or be left out of a climate of prosperity. So far, I have seen people in places like Brunswick, Amelia Island/Fernandina Beach and Daytona Beach doing fairly well. I have seen a few people in Cape Canaveral and here in the Melbourne area who are not. Much depends on the local economy, but state and Federal policies also impact us.

My first stop in Florida, this morning, was American Beach, on Amelia Island, Florida, once a vacation place for African-Americans, during the days before desegregation. The country’s first African-American millionaire, Abraham Lincoln Lewis, established the beach for just this purpose, in 1935. His work was carried on by his granddaughter, MaVynee Betsch, carried on his work of preserving the beach and its Historic District, until her death in 2005. American Beach remains a National Historic Site.

Birney Beach House, at American Beach, Amelia Island
Dunes at American Beach
White sand and incoming tide, American Beach

In between visits with family, my focus is on the broader society. Fernandina Beach, the main community on Amelia Island, is Florida’s northeasternmost town. It was the site of a brief battle between American revolutionaries and British troops, in 1777. The area was then controlled by Britain, as the Territory of East Florida. Although the British retained control of the town, there was significant damage done by the Revolutionaries.

Information on Revolutionary War battle on Amelia Island.

Today, Fernandina is a comfortable, bustling holiday place. It was helped, early, by the establishment of Florida’s first Atlantic to Gulf Railroad, from Fernandina to Cedar Key.

Information on Atlantic-to-Gulf Railroad
Centre Street, Fernandina Beach, FL

After a gyro (pronounced JY-ro, in these parts) on pita, at 4th Street Deli, it was time to see what was up at Daytona Beach International Raceway- as NASCAR is a good barometer of how mainstream America is faring. The Raceway was closed. It’s not racing season, and it is Monday, to boot. Mainstream America was at Buc-ee’s, though, buying scrumptious brisket and pulled pork sandwiches, and a mix of travel essentials/trinkets. I picked up a brisket sandwich-and some rub-on sunscreen, to compensate for the sunblock I left behind in Arizona.

Bucc-ee’s, at Daytona Beach
Daytona Beach International Raceway

My last stop of the day, before arriving at my lodging, was the city of Cape Canaveral-now primarily a shipping port. The slowness of the recent supply chain difficulties, themselves partly arising from the Coronavirus Pandemic, seems to have affected the town, though I saw commercial traffic somewhat steady this afternoon. The Kennedy Space Center, west of Cape Canaveral, may be an early morning stop, tomorrow, and may offer a better sense of how the community is faring, given that Canaveral has been intertwined with America’s efforts in the Cosmos.

It’ll certainly be another day in paradise.

“The Sound of Heaven Touching Earth”

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Posted by on in collaborating, Community, Historical, impediments, Personal goals, Personal Values, Social, Striving, Travel, Uncategorized

March 20, 2022, Brunswick, GA- The feisty preacher had her congregation singing this refrain in unison, as a prelude to her energetic homily, as services proceeded in Mary Ross Waterfront Park, along East River. This is life in Brunswick, after the verdicts in the Ahmaud Arbery case.

Mary Ross Waterfront Park

The crew at Sunrise Diner is downhome and multiracial. They work tightly together as a team, with no daylight between them, in terms of pecking order or separation. The owner mans the host stand, his mother is floor manager and his son alternates between serving and bussing, with his daughter moving about, acting as both server and hostess. Men of colour are servers, bussers and cooks, but are treated as full members of the team. Regulars were being greeted warmly, as was this visitor-never treated as a stranger. The portions are not overbearing; they are just filling and delicious.

It was important to see this, on the heels of what could have been a good deal less than the move forward that came from the trial. Certainly, there is a lot that could yet be done, in terms of community growth, yet I got the sense that people here want the world to know that they, and much of the rest of the South, are moving forward in a positive way.

The area was settled by James Oglethorpe and his band of colonists in 1738, as Britain was seeking a buffer to Spanish Florida. Oglethorpe was a forward-looking egalitarian, who opposed slavery, well before the majority of colonists were ready to give up the system. For that, he would be ostracized and would leave Georgia for good, in 1743. From then on, Brunswick and Savannah, both platted out by Oglethorpe in an easily navigable manner with lots of green space, would follow the rest of the plantation-bounded communities, in maintaining a culture of black enslavement. A plain monument to him is found in Queen’s Square.

Monument to James Oglethorpe, Queen’s Square, Brunswick

Hanover Square is the largest of three parks designed by James Oglethorpe for Brunswick’s downtown core. It has several live oaks, symbiotic with Spanish moss, a salubrious fountain and a plain monument to Confederate soldiers. This last is the subject of ongoing debate, though it is easily overlooked. So far, there has been no lasting decision made about the small obelisk. Here is a view of the fountain.

Fountain, Hanover Square, Brunswick

Lastly, here are Old City Hall and a view of East River, which is Brunswick’s channel to the sea.

Old City Hall, Brunswick
American Star

It is important to me to visit and engage those communities at which many may look askance. There is a wellspring of hope rising in Brunswick, as there is in Minneapolis, and many other communities which have found their internal conflicts boiling over. I hope to see this happening in peninsular Florida, as well, in the coming days.

Thunder, Lightning and Patience

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Posted by on in Assistance, collaborating, Family, impediments, Personal Values, Social, Striving, Travel

March 19, 2022, Brunswick, GA- The young lady looked at the stuck register and tried, several times, to process my modest dinner transaction. When a teenager has trouble with technology-the struggle is definitely real. The manager came and got the machine back on track, while simultaneously dealing with what looked like a HUGE order that had somehow been messed up by the kitchen staff. Such was Saturday night at the Zaxby’s, in Dublin, GA, a place that first won my heart a few years back. It’s nothing special, in the wider scheme of things, but the kids took good care of me in 2018, the last time I was down this way, flustered and looking for a place to spend the night.. There’s a different crew now, of course, but some of the same people, who were having dinner there then, were there tonight. A boy who must have been no more than five, the last time, somehow remembered me and waved hello.

Patience was definitely the order of the day, once I got to Budget Rent-a-Car’s facility, near Hartsfield. Airport car rentals are almost always swamped, but today every rental company’s staff was telling their customers the same thing: “Plan on one or two hours of waiting, folks. Our vehicle turnaround staff is shorthanded.” I was long ago gifted with the ability to see what other people are enduring, thanks to Mom, who instilled that in us. So, sitting calmly on the floor by a support beam and passing the time by watching and listening to people, who were in the same boat as I was, was not a huge deal.

Ninety minutes after I was let off by the Uber driver from Newnan, I was in my own vehicle- a black Hyundai Sonata, replete with push button starter, touch gears and a cruise control system that slows down automatically, when the vehicle is getting close to the one in front. There is also the safety tone that goes off when another vehicle is in one’s blind spot and a screen warning, if one drifts a bit and the car hits the lane bumps: “It may be time to take a break.”

When I neared Savannah, some 70 miles north of here, the rain started in earnest. Once in Brunswick, the thunder and lightning joined in the festivities. Fortunately, my time outside in the fracas was limited, as both of my bags could be carried in at once. Yes, this time, Mr. Bring-the-Household Along has managed to confine himself to a modicum of items. Gone are the days when I will be seen trudging along, underneath three or four bags, trying to find the door to the night’s lodging.

I will be here in Brunswick until Monday morning, with a possible jaunt up to Savannah tomorrow afternoon, weather-permitting. It was a supremely lovely visit with my Atlanta area family, and I look forward to equally enjoyable, if briefer, time with family and friends around the periphery of peninsular Florida, over the next twelve days or so.

Spring is about to get sprung!