Happy Birthday Ryan

Welcome to the world Anna...

Congratulations Kristen and Adam.

2011

2011, just around the corner. The years march on... double time, so it seems.

It seems to me that traveling around the country as we have these past, going on 4 years, has added new facets to the passage of time... new dimensions... certainly new thinking. I like it that now, when a memory pops into my head unbidden, it is often of some unique location or adventure, some interesting person or landscape, sometimes something profound and bizarre. Sure, the memories of standing on a rocky mountaintop in Zion, or at the base of a giant Redwood in Humbolt County or of paddling through Cypress swamps in the Okefenokee make for great memories. I cherish them above material things. But there are also treasures to be found among the flotsam and jetsam of the everyday, in the little backwaters of the great flow of Life. For instance, at Walmart...

We have shopped at Walmarts and Dollar Stores across America. If you pay attention, there's much to be learned wandering around the aisles of “Every day low prices”. You will always find a fascinating diversity of humanity. Diversity in ethnicity, age, dress, speech, behavior. It's always an experience of the great mixing bowl of Americana, each region with it's own distinct flavor. In Collier County, Florida you see a lot of Q-Tips, that is, white haired Seniors, pushing carts through the home goods section. In Palm Springs, it's Latinos with a uniquely California flair in dress and body art. In San Francisco, it's Asian; Chinle, Arizona, Native American; Heber City, Utah, White Mormons. And in Glynn County Georgia, Black.

One day while in a Dollar Store in Louisiana, I overheard two women talking in their distinct Cajun accent. The first woman said, “I do love de Dollah Stoah. It be real convenient... and casual.” The second woman said, “ Dat be for sure. And I don't have to get all dress up like going to Walmart or somethin.” Now there's an endorsement to build a advertising campaign around...

Brunswick, Georgia is the Glynn County seat, an eclectic cultural and socio-economic mixture of humankind. a gritty, declining manufacturing/fishing industry, a vibrant local and federal government sector, an aggressive and unhealthy legal community. It is the gateway to the Golden Isles, the resort communities of Saint Simons Island and Jekyll Island, earlier in history slave plantations, later the private refuge of the insanely wealthy; the Rockefellers, the Morgans, the Pulitzers, none of whom would every have shopped in Walmart.

In the Brunswick Walmart, the majority of dolls in the toy section and peoples images on greeting cards are dark skinned, the canned goods; turnip greens, okra, black eyed peas with snaps... and hair products selections; relaxers, straighteners, glosses, are not typical to a Walmart in, say... Waterville, Maine. The sense for me is always, as it is in every location across the country, a distinct ”You're not in Kansas anymore Dorothy.” feeling. And I love it. “New experience” as my Azeri son-in-law often says.

Walmart is aggressive in affiliating with other businesses in their stores. Banks, Credit Unions, Tax Services, Nail and Hair Salons, Eye Glass shops, Photo Studios, Urgent Care Medical Clinics, and, of course, food vendors. Where else can you get your oil changed, your toenails polished, your portfolio tweaked and a 12 inch Subway, turkey on honey oat bread with spinach, tomatoes and onions...

I was walking out of the Brunswick Walmart when I spied the empty sandwich shop. The Subway gift card that my thoughtful sister had sent me for my birthday had been burning a hole in my pocket. It was an “impulse purchase” for sure, but my impulse at that moment was hunger.... mmmm.

The young, white girl behind the counter was pleasant, a half smile on her face. “Welcome to Subway. How can I help yewww?” Georgia girl fer sure... She had dyed purple hair under her Subway cap and a barbed wire tattoo around her neck above her Subway shirt collar. The metal hoop rings in her nose and lip were not unattractive.

“Hi. May I have a $5, 12 inch, oven roasted chicken, on Honey Oat, toasted with Swiss, please?” I recited. Connie had taught me well. We would split the sandwich when I picked her up at Belks in a few minutes.

I watched her build the sandwich. Tattooed on the knuckles of her right hand were the letters L-O-V-E, one letter on each finger. This was not a professional tattoo. This was a jail house tat. Skin ripped with a sharp object and ink from an ink pen rubbed into the wound. She pursed her lips and concentrated as she added the veggies. “Yeww want sum sauce on thay-at?” She asked. Yes, please, sweet onion...

She cut, wrapped and bagged the footlong and I passed her my gift card. She looked puzzled as she swiped the card and started pushing buttons. Finally, the computer prompted her to enter the date. She gazed at me. “What's today?” she asked. “Wednesday” I answered. She blinked twice. “No, no... what's today's date?” she asked. “ I don't know,” I responded.

She raised her voice and called to someone unseen. “Mayhelen,” it sounded like one word, “What's today?” A voice responded “Wednesday...” She smiled, the deja vu humor not lost on her. “What's the date” she called back. Mary Helen announced “It's the 21^st...”

The counter girl turned to me and made eye contact. There was wonder on her face. “ The 21^st.” she repeated, “Where has time went... ?”

2011, just around the corner... Where has time went, indeed?

Profound and bizarre.

Happy New Year, folks.

Merry Christmas!

Thanks for the pics Mike and Amy!! Perfect!

Pearl Jam Song

"Off He Goes"

Okefenokee Swamp

Just back from a kayak trip for a couple incredible days in the swamp. The Okeefenokee is an almost 500,000 acre National Wildlife Refuge located on the southern Georgia border with Florida and is unlike anything I have ever seen across the country. Okefenokee is a vast bog inside a huge sauce- shaped depression that was once part of the ocean floor. The word, Okeefenokee, is Native American for "land of the trembling earth". Peat deposits up to 15 feet deep will quake when walked upon.



It wasn't an "easy" trip. David, Beaver and the crazy Yankee paddled around 15 miles a day, at times in shallow streams, dragging our loaded kayaks through the thick swamp vegetation; marsh grass and water lily, struggling over downed trees of cypress and pine. The water level was very low, as low as David had ever seen it, but the upside was that we had the swamp entirely to ourselves.



The slow moving waters are tea colored due to the tanic acid released from decaying plants and is acidic, about the level of a carbonated cola drink, not good to drink. Perhaps, as a result of this and also the cool, windy nights, there were no bugs to speak of. But there were plenty of other critters; egrets, heron, turtles, piliated woodpeckers, ibis, sandhill cranes, hawks, bow fish, owls... and gators! Hundreds of them, from one foot babies to huge 12 footers, sunning themselves lazily on the banks or skulking in the water. Impressive, instinctually threatening, the hair on the back of your neck standing up on end when one swims toward you and submerges under your boat. In the backwater creek I bumped one (not on purpose) and it came up behind the boat hissing. Motivating!



The reflectivity of the water made for some great photos.

We limped into the "chickie" around dinner time... just in time. The raised sleeping platform was named "Round Top". God knows why, because it is located in the "praries"; flat, swamp for 20 miles in any direction. Truly desolate. Truly beautiful.
The sky was huge, the clouds were jaw dropping, and the stars that night were spectacular.

We set up tents and enjoyed some great steaks from Beaver's restaurant and a fine container of box wine from Winn Dixie, before some serious relaxing. A gator lived under the chickie and we named him "One-Eyed Jack". I tied a chunk of steak on a 3 foot piece of rope and got to meet him up close and personal. They are not too bright, but make up for it with ferocity. Here's a shot of Jack through my binoculars.


We hit the sack, enjoying the cries of the Sandhill Cranes, just down for the winter from Minnesota or Canada. An erie sound. Around midnight we were all awakened to another sound, the sound of wind... lots of it. The intensity of the coming storm built for about an hour and we scrambled to lash things down as the temperature dropped from 80 degrees into the 40's. The force of the wind was so great that our tents collapsed on us and we huddled waiting for what was to come. The rain exploded on the metal roof top and blew sideways into our tents soaking clothes and sleeping bags. And we three fools lay in the dark, howling with laughter, hysterically happy.

By 2:00 AM things had dialed back a bit and we lay in our tents, cold and wet, waiting for the light of dawn. Beaver was introspective as he spoke into the darkness. "You know, this is great. Now when stories are told, I can say "You think THAT was bad, well let me tell you about..." And we laughed for another 15 minutes. Awesome...

We rose before the dawn and got busy getting warm. Coffee, beef stew and a hibachi full of charcoal lifted our soggy moods even as we put on all of our clothes against the hand numbing coldness. Lacking orange juice, we took mega doses of Tylenol with the rest of the red wine further lifting our moods.





We attacked the 3 miles of shallow water paddling against a heavy head wind with stoic abandon... and more red wine. And by the time we reentered the main canal, the sun was bright, the temperature was up 20 degrees and the wind shifted to our backs. The Universe is good...

The vegetation was spectacular. Carnivorous Pitcher Plants in the bog, towering Cypress dressed in Spanish Moss, Cypress "knees" (root extensions) clumped like monks in prayer, yellow Swamp Dasie's, green floating rafts of Duck Weed, even the pond scum was beautiful.






Our shoulders were sore and our hands blistered as we loaded the kayaks for the drive back to civilization. But the smiles didn't leave our faces for days. Great trip David. You're my man. And Beaver... "You think THAT was bad...?" LOL!!!