Mirror Images

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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.

A Gram-tastic Hostel and Twin Bayside Gems

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March 29, 2022, Spring Hill, FL- I sat patiently on one of the rock benches outside the Dali Museum, whilst a budding model was having a short photo shoot on the limestone pillar that is one of the building’s supports. Once it was completed, her photographer came over and asked if I would be so kind as to take a photo of the two of them and their male friend. I agreed, and as they were delighted with my photograph, a couple of shots of me at the rock pillar were taken. Thus was a memorable encounter with Kellie, Tyler and the model, who wouldn’t give her name. It is always a joy to encourage young people in their endeavours, however these may look at first glance.

The day began in the one and only hostel dedicated to the memory of the one and only Gram Parsons. The rock/country music fusion pioneer, so bedeviled in his personal life, like so many musicians of the 1960s and ’70s, still casts a giant shadow on the music scene, forty-nine years after his death. Like the man himself, Gram’s Place is eclectic, over the top and leaves an indelible impression.

The Flying Burrito Brothers were an offshoot of The Byrds, organized professionally by Gram and a fellow Byrds alumnus, Chris Hillman. Gram worked with this band from early 1969, until mid 1970, freely admitting he was a bit on the lazy side, while still coming up with amazing material, when he was so moved.

This take on a Bob Dylan song captures both Gram’s talent and his nonchalance. It also foreshadows his passing.

You just never know what you might find, on the grounds of this fascinating hostel. It’ll rank as one of the best places at which I’ve ever stayed. Luxury is nice, but authenticity rules!

It was soon on to downtown Tampa. Parking my vehicle in a spacious lot, I set a loop that took in the city’s Riverwalk, went over a bridge across the Hillsborough River and through Plant Park (named for Henry S. Plant, a railway pioneer) and the University of Tampa. The city was in a fairly relaxed frame of mind, into early afternoon.

In January, 2002, a teenager, Charles Bishop (nee Bishara), crashed a stolen Cessna into the Bank of America building. He was the sole casualty of the crash. He left a letter, claiming to have been inspired by al-Qaida.

Tony Jannus, a 25-year-old pilot, transported a former mayor of St. Petersburg, and a bag of mail, on the nation’s first commercial flight, across Tampa Bay.

This large complex was once a hotel, operated by the entrepreneur, Henry Plant. It became the University of Tampa, in 1932. The steel minarets were regarded by Mr. Plant as a symbol of majesty. They are a point of pride for the city and for U of T’s students.

Once back across the river, it was time to head to Tampa’s sister, St. Petersburg-named, on a coin toss, by Peter Demens, a Russian immigrant, after his home city. Had the coin toss gone the other way, “St. Pete” may well have been named Detroit.

Brigadier General Kosciusko, who cam from Poland to assist the Continental Army in America’s War for Independence, also sought freedom for enslaved Africans, and bequeathed funds for their education and training, after emancipation. Alas, this wish of his would not be met, even in rudimentary fashion, until the 1860s.

This sculpture by Vic Payne is found in various cities. It does capture the spirit of St. Petersburg, as much as it does any other city. After a lovely day in the “Florida Twins”, I was ready for the quieter clime of Spring Hill, an hour to the north.

A Treasury of Fragrance and Colour

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March 27, 2022, Naples. FL– Not long ago, I made contact with a man who has the same first and last name as me. This Gary Boivin is Assistant Director of Naples Botanical Garden. The emphasis in this exquisite facility is on the sights and smells of tropical plants from all corners of the globe.

For this post, I am going to let the pictures tell their own stories. Here are a dozen of the best.

Though I did not actually meet my eponym, I have to say this body of work, the efforts of nearly a hundred people, is well worth an extended visit by anyone who finds self in Southwest Florida.

Aunt Grace’s Homeland

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March 26, 2022, Naples, Florida- The sweet-spirited young woman was glad as heck, that someone entered her family’s small cafe, just as she was opening the door to business. I felt like royalty, being welcomed as if I was the first soul in years to stop by. It didn’t hurt that she had a gorgeous smile and a barely concealed measure of confidence. When I ordered coffee and a piece of fry bread, (a staple among the Miccosukee, as well as among First Nations people around the United States and Canada-a testimony to the creative use of worm-shot flour, back in the Nineteenth Century.), J placed the order for the bread and turned to her uncle and me, admitting that she only knew how to use a Keurig. Uncle D was nonplussed, and calmly showed his teenaged niece how to make coffee using a drip system. Her coffee was superb, as was her mother’s fry bread.

These are the extended family of my late Aunt Grace, who left Big Cypress after World War II, and never returned, even after leaving her husband. Gracie was content to raise her five children and work as a waitress at a discount department store’s lunch counter, until she died a few years back, at age 90. She was pleased when I went to work with other First Nations people, though. She was quiet. but firm in her assessment of things- much like young J.

The Miccosukee are a southern branch of the Seminole, who came to central and southern Florida in the 1700s, and are the branch of Seminole who managed to elude Andrew Jackson’s forces, when he was appointed military governor of Florida, in 1821. Today, they live along the Tamiami Trail and in sections of the Everglades and Big Cypress natural preserves. No sane United States official, today, would recommend moving these careful stewards from the Federal lands. South Florida is rightly viewed as a proving ground for our species’ commitment to conserving water and all other living natural resources.

I spent about an hour in Osceola Panther, as Uncle D’s small village and store are called. Here are some of the scenes from the store and along the Tamiami Canal outside.

Another hour was spent, up the road, at Big Cypress National Preserve, which offers extensive programs to educate the public on the intertwining topographic areas of savanna and wetlands, which comprise most of southern and central Florida.

Here are a few scenes of everyone’s favourite swamp creature: The alligator.

The heat became a bit enervating, after noon, when I found myself dealing with the hyper-energy of Naples, southwest Florida’s southern anchor community. Here, I found that I had returned to suburbia, intense high-speed traffic and people who had scant patience for one another. After a brief preliminary visit to Naples’ excellent Botanical Garden, I rested, took in a Baha’i planning session and rested more.

Heroes and Legends

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March 22, 2022, Vero Beach- The above title is also the first building one enters, at Kennedy Space Center’s Visitor Complex, in Merritt Island, FL. Heroic figures aplenty are presented, visually and audibly, at this intensely captivating and informative science center. To be sure, having grown up in the classic period of the Space Age’s inception, I have my share of those who I hold in very high regard: Alan Shepard, John Glenn, Walter Schirra, Gus Grissom, Deke Slayton, Neil Armstrong, Sally Ride, Krista McAuliffe, Ronald McNair, Eugene Cernan, even Yuri Gagarin and Gherman Titov. My heroes, in general, are both male and female, of all ethnicities and skin tones-and it does not matter that I, a heterosexual cisgender white male, hold this view. Heroism is about character and achievement.

My first hero, my father, would have turned 95 today. He worked in aeronautics his entire adult life, so to visit Kennedy Space Center on this particular day was a sublime blessing. He held the astronauts in high regard, as well, admitting to being a bit overwhelmed by all the science that the increasingly complex business of space was encapsulating. I do think he would have thoroughly enjoyed this place, though.

Several whooshes of cold air and descriptions of rocket launches later, I walked out to Rocket Garden, where those vessels that launched so many legends into space are exhibited, at least by type.

Suitable mention was made of the works of fiction that stimulated so many minds with thoughts of space travel, from the 1920s to the actual inception of successful space flight. These stimulated many young people to seek training and careers in the inchoate field of astronautics. Among them were all those we know today as astronauts-both men and women, and so many astronomers who foster and guide the space travelers.

There has been so much heartbreak and tragedy coming out of the Space program, as there is in any novel and complicated operation. Three jarring events stand out: The 1967 explosion which killed Apollo 1 astronauts Gus Grissom, Ed White and Roger Chaffee; the deaths of the seven crew members in the Challenger explosion of 1986; the launch time deaths of seven crew members in the atmospheric re-entry explosion of 2003. They underscore the fact that many failures take place, in all phases of research and implementation of aerospace work.

Project Apollo was the stuff of the greatest sagas, even of conspiracy theories that say the moon landing never happened. It was Gemini, the intermediate step between earth orbit and the moon missions, that deserves equal billing. Eugene Cernan, the first person to walk in space, described his experience: His blood pressure hit as high as 170; He lost 13 pounds in 2 hours; the heat shield on the module reached 3,500 degrees Fahrenheit, making egress and return to the capsule a tortuous affair. The work of the Gemini pioneers has made all the difference going forward, from Apollo through the shuttles and Space Station era.

My last stop at the Space center was the Shuttle Hall, at which a hundred people at a time were treated to seeing the Shuttle Atlantis, retired in July, 2011, after logging in over a million miles.

There are many things that can unite people of all backgrounds and viewpoints. The exploration of space is a field with which anyone can identify. Space, like the Earth itself, belongs to all of us.

“Another Day In Paradise”

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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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Pi in the Sky

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March 14, 2022- It is noteworthy that the ancient Greeks recognized pi, the number that is the basis for determining the ratio of the diameter to the circumference of a circle and pie, the normally circular pastry shell that has been used as a container for honey, nuts, chopped meat and fruits, since the Neolithic Period in Egypt. Pi, which is 3.14 when rounded to the nearest hundredth, was first defined by the mathematician Archimedes, though the civilizations of India, Babylon, Egypt and China each made use of the concept. Welshman William Jones clarified its usefulness to circular measurement, in 1706.

Today, 3/14, is recognized unofficially, as Pi Day. That it is enthusiastically embraced by bakers and sweet-toothed people around the globe does not detract from the mathematical awareness brought about through this light-hearted embrace of a key geometric construct. Pizzerias have gotten into the act, with even the makers of rectangular pizzas claiming to have finally “squared the circle”. Along with chess, fun events like this have helped math-phobes get a grip on their aversion to numerical sciences.

I used to be one of those who hated math, mainly because of the overly serious way in which the subject was broached by so many teachers. I was fortunate to have been flashcarded to distraction by my mother and one of my father’s aunts who would come by almost every week. In time, the cosmic jokesters had me serving as a mathematics teacher, to the dubious benefit of three years’ worth of middle and high school students.

Over time, pi has ceased to be a concept lost in the ether and math has found its way into my treasury of skills. Happy Pi Day, sweet-tooth or not!

Two Inverse Triangles

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March 12, 2022- During this afternoon’s Web of Light meditation, (part of a monthly Zoom call), I saw an inverse triangle covering North America, and got a message that the three focal points were to be the purpose of my journeys this year. One is Florida-with Miami having more of a role in the itinerary than I had previously thought, and a clockwise traverse of the peninsula being in order. Orlando, and the theme parks, didn’t even register, but then again, I am not a huge theme park aficionado, unless children are involved. This works out well, considering that I had long been drawn to go to the peninsula after visiting with family in the Atlanta area.

The other two points of the triangle are Atlantic Canada and Alaska. These will be clearer in a couple of months. Mid-June to mid-July look to be the first and mid-September to mid-October, for the second. As the meditation also showed robust activity around Home Base, in northern New Mexico and in southern California, from mid-April to mid-June, I will be engaged in measured activity, a good part of the time. I didn’t get any insight on fire or hurricane response, unlike the warning I got two years ago about Alexandria, Louisiana, but it’s early in the season yet.

My conscious self asked, “So, Europe is obviously off the table this year?” The insight gave the meditative version of “Well, duh!”, and brought my thoughts back to healing and peaceful resolution of the conflict. Another inverted triangle appeared, with Africa at the bottom, Europe on top left and the Asia-Pacific region on the top right. These areas seem to be more in a long-term sequence, which will be more clear towards the end of this year. Five years seem to be involved.

Today, the most important time period in front of me, saw a goodly amount of planning for the next few weeks, with accommodations mostly set. I put in an hour on a school garden project, at a nearby campus. Visits to Rafter Eleven and Synergy capped off the day, with the latter being a mini-jam, my drum accompanying a guitar and a harmonium. Three others in the group were suitably forceful in their singing.

Despite all that the above seems to signal, I feel very much at peace and in charge of my life.

Lines of Guidance

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March 11, 2022- The focal points of my day were two: The beginning of a weekly study on the Baha’i principles regarding social action, which entail both ground-up and engagement of all elements, and a review of Astro Cartography, as it pertains to how planetary forces were aligned at the time of my birth and how that has effected my life, ever since.

I will have more to say on the former, as weeks go by, and we get more deeply into the transformation of our planet from a hotbed of contention to a home for all. That, of course, is a process that will far outlast the earthly life of anyone alive today, but begin we have.

Regarding Astro Cartography and how it affects my life now, there are places where my life draws more challenges and responsibilities and places where life draws relaxation and comfort. I seem to have chosen to live in more challenging environments, over the years, including my present Home Base, according to the chart. I can’t say I have all that many regrets, and Prescott will remain my base for some time to come.

The chart says there are places where I can be more relaxed and other places where I have to watch my back. This is based on lines of planetary bodies’ ascent and descent, in the skies above, and in terms of their energy. I don’t claim to really understand it all yet, but I can say that in certain places, the energy has seemed more heavy and elsewhere it has been light as a feather. There are places to which I have been drawn that have a festive atmosphere, others that are more instructive and still others that are both.

This tool is one of the things I ought to consult, going forward, as is my daily meditations and, in the final analysis, conditions on the ground on a particular day. The latter particularly pertains to places to which I feel drawn, on the spur of the moment, but for which travel arrangements need to be made months in advance-Phantom Ranch, in the Grand Canyon, for example, or the Dry Tortugas, at the southwest end of Florida. (The most remote areas attract crowds, which is understandable, given our species’ need to push all manner of personal frontiers.)

In the end, being peaceful and content, where one happens to be, is the best springboard for any journey.

A Tale from 2007

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March 5, 2022- It has now been eleven years, since Penny winged her flight to be with our Lord. As her passage took place on a Saturday, this day was especially poignant. Having been in Phoenix, and the cemetery, on Thursday took some of the edge off of this day’s ambiance. I also followed my Saturday morning routine, and having a Baha’i Zoom devotional, that was itself based in Phoenix, as part of that routine was also a plus.

Ten of our twenty-nine years together were spent in Phoenix. Although the community is large and the people are quite busy with their daily lives, Penny made a positive impression on a lot of people. Her joie de vivre was irrepressible, almost to the end. She did not use her disability as an excuse to refrain from living her faith. Fifteen years ago, in the midst of her decline in mobility, and just after she had to be wheelchair bound, we were invited to attend a prayer meeting that was on the second floor of an apartment complex, and there was no elevator.

She asked me to help her to the stairs, and proceeded to carefully climb the stairs, on her hands and knees, reversing the process by coming down each step on her buttocks when the meeting was over. I brought the empty wheelchair up and down, standing behind, then in front of her, as was prudent. The device was her chair while we were in the apartment.

There went a genuine hero.