The Teaser

    Graham Greene spoke truth when he said, "There is always one moment in childhood when the door opens and let's the future in."
     That moment occurred when I read Robert Louis Stevenson's Treasure Island. My imagination was ignited and a desire for travel was launched. 
     Stevenson was an ambassador of travel and early I took to heart what he wrote; "I travel not to go anywhere, but to go. I travel for travels sake. The great affair is to move." 

     My life of journalism and documentary production allowed a decent bit of "moving," globe trotting and cultural immersion. 
   I was asked once to write a piece about the adjustment one must manage when returning from extensive travel. A meager truth I surfaced was this; the re-entry to normal also helps enshrine the intoxicating, psychoactive, or mind stretching affect of travel.

    As you have read we have been away for a while, celebrating a milestone in our marriage, connecting with ancestral roots. Ever the journalist and curious explorer we return with a couple thousand images and even more memories. 

    I want to share with you what we saw, did and felt.
   

   We were on country roads, navigating large cities, at historic sites, immersed in the local culture, in Scotland and Ireland. There was much to see and learn.

     There is history that makes ours seem youthful. Complexity, intellect, and human endeavor that is profound.

   Abundant beauty, nature and culture.

Always near is history that shaped humankind.

  We are fascinated by mysteries of ancient cultures, older than the great Pyramids, cosmic riddles.

Profound beauty, picturesque charm. 

Music and culture.

  Exploration and discovery. 

Food and other feasts of the senses. 

   Grandeur and majesty.  

   Politics, struggle, and the DNA of fighting for independence. 

  Whimsy, expression and stunning beauty.

  Intellect and impact. 

    And there are the people. Our exploration of Scottish history, genealogy, and nature was organized and moderated by research and experts.
    And so it was in Ireland, though our guides were friends, people we have hosted in California.
     We benefited wonderfully from the expertise of Irish friends who kindly shared the magic of their Republic. An endless gratitude to Kay and Willie,
  

 and to Kay and Jack. 

  So stay tuned. In the days to come there will be scenes, experiences, history, and the pastiche of travel and culture.

   I hope you will enjoy what you read and see, in a vicarious travel adventure.

   I'm tempted to say come along for a foreign adventure but I'm reminded of Stevenson's summation; "There are no foreign lands, it is the traveler only who is foreign."

   We have been the foreigner and now we seek to interpret and report.

   These are strange days on both sides of the Atlantic, a cultural metamorphosis is in the offing. 

    It is my humble suggestion we have reached these vexing times because we have become to tethered to small worlds, of small screens and small words and small ideas, and led by small people. 

    Greene said it well when he wrote in Burnt Out Case, "The more base a life is, the more we fear change."

     We have much to share. I hope you enjoy the ride that is to come. Let's move. 

     See you down the trail. 

   

Where does this road go?

     Preparing for several days of new sights in old culture. Uneasy about where this nation is and where the road we're on leads.

      I'm convinced the nightly news has become the stage for  a depraved tragic-comedy. It is evidence this president is  unhinged from reality and in the throes of madness. He is increasingly alone, unchecked by staff, erratic, irrational and dangerous. We see it with our eyes and it is chilling. It becomes more absurdly bizarre that our great and complex federal system, and the tens of millions of citizens who are sickened by the reality can not end this script that reads like a dystopian futuristic nightmare. We have an insane and compromised president, but we do not have an American presidency.

     My working years were filled with globe trotting assignments and  I was never embarrassed to carry an American passport. I've been warned to expect hearing an earful from the citizens of where we are bound and I will listen with interest.

     

    There is great strength in our nation and it is signified by the overwhelming percentage of citizens who disapprove of the mad, rogue president. I will remind my hosts of that.

       There is so much more than the crazy reality show and its lying narcissistic star and I hope they know that. 

       But, what I have no answer for are those people at his rallies, those who support the deranged fool, and why as dangerously erratic and destructive as he has become the once Republican party has not moved to depose him, if only to save face if not for the security of this nation.

       I cannot explain why we have opened a new season of old hatreds, bigotry, and ignorance. Especially the ignorance and disdain for fact, science, knowledge and advancement. Why are so many content with being stupid and crazed with their own manipulated fantasies and opinions?

       I think it will be refreshing to be away for a while, to see all of this from afar and through the filter of people who mince no words and who know history.  Stay tuned.

       Before we go, a California late summer scene.

      See you down the trail.

DAZED AND WONDERING

THINGS CHANGE

     Here's a scene in which we have all played a role. The baggage wait.

      Where to stand, where to look, check the phone, eye the others wondering if some nefarious sort might get to your bag before you. It's all made more dramatic by a long flight, sleep deprivation, wondering if the rental car will be ready, where's the shuttle to the lot and why haven't the bags arrived yet ?           Why don't they test or train Public Address announcers before turning them loose? Little things-speak clearly, don't eat the microphone-speak slowly, especially if English is not your first language and don't sound so bored. Also, it might be nice to cue them into those gag names, still in play. And by the way, why haven't those bags arrived yet?

OTHER MYSTERIES

     We've come a distance to celebrate our eldest daughter's first child and to get acquainted with that delicate and sweet little bundle of joy who warms our hearts into membership in the grands club.

       Such innocence and purity. I can watch her endlessly as she stretches arms and legs, opening tiny little fingers, pursing dainty lips, hoping mom is somewhere in range. Little moves in a big world.  She is still gaining vision so her eyes labor to focus and to begin to make sense of this strange new surrounding. What extraordinary mystery this must be. I whisper to her that it's like the big wake up, or so I assume and tell her that it will all eventually make sense. Unspoken and in the back of my mind is the time when she reaches an age and looks at this big world and her human co-inhabitants and wonder why human ways sometimes don't make sense.

       But all of that is a sea of time and wonder away. Now each second is a time of learning, discovery and an opportunity to experience love and caring. She is lucky, she has a loving mommy, aunt and a couple of grand parents. She has a comfortable home in a safe neighborhood in a land that is at peace. Clean water and air, schools and doctors are available to her. So many children are not so fortunate. 

     And so this sweet child will awaken to her blessings, day by day and her granddad will ponder the wondrous mysteries of such a life and the stretching of time.  Our daughters expanded my sense time a few years ago. My granddaughter just hit the warp drive into hyper time.

      See you down the trail.

     

OFF THE ROAD

NO MORE A ROAD WARRIOR

Between Indianapolis and Phoenix

    7:40 AM and I'm sitting at the bar, the only seat available in  the crowded airport restaurant. My wake up call had come at Midnight on my body clock, 3:00 AM in Indianapolis.

     "What'll you have to drink?" the bartender asks after putting out another gin to the guy sitting at my left and another beer to the guy two spaces down on the right.

      "Coffee" I say watching the constant milling of people in and out of the tight space between tables and the shifting of spots at the bar.

       The guy to my immediate right asks to be topped off on coffee as he holds a paperback in his left hand, his right hand working on an omelet.

      I'm looking around and amazed at how young these travelers are, most of them are on business. After the years I've logged you can spot the road warriors from the tourists. 

      In that moment a switch that had begun to turn a few nights ago, completed its click.

      The flight got in at 1:15 AM. For years I've used a particular car rental agency that offers something called a rapid rez so you bypass lines, go immediately to the garage get your car and on your way. A breakfast meeting awaited after what would be the usual first night of battle with hotel pillows and bed, heating system and the likely impossibility of opening a window for real air. Sleep would be a challenge, but the rapid rez would get me moving that way. Wrong! There was not a waiting car. A lot attendant broke the news the computers crashed and I'd have to go back to the terminal and wait in line. Guess she see could the color drain. 

      She said "I'll be over in a couple of minutes to help you."

      No one is happy at the counter, especially the folks waiting in line. The clerks are doing the best they can, filling forms by long hand and swiping credit cards, but as the clock ticks and sleep disappears, the best laid plans are washing away as though being soaked by the cold rain outside.

     The young lady arrives, takes my credit card and disappears to the office behind the counter. Several minutes later she reappears with temporary paperwork explaining the form that would need to be explained in turn to the gate keeper.

     Loaded, seats adjusted, trying to figure out the heating and defrost controls, I roll up on the gate man who seems more perplexed than anything, but lifts the bar and I'm out into a driving rain at a temperature hovering above freezing.

     It's funny but after you've been away from a place for a while you begin to doubt your directions. I thread the on and off ramps and follow the signs to the downtown trying to remember my old short cuts, but loosing confidence as I drive. That and the place continues to be built and changed for SuperBowls, and NCAA Final Fours and myriad conventions.  My destination is a grand hotel I've been in more times than I could recall, but I couldn't recall where in the hell the entrance was. 

     The clock is running on me and chance of sleep is flying away as I circumnavigate the block a couple of times, cursing about what have they done with the entrance. Then I remember, though new buildings conspired against a clear vista.

      The car has been sent to the valet garage and I've been given keys that must be swiped before the elevator will assign my floor. This is new and requires a juggling act of shoulder bag, plastic bag with water, suitcase and keys.

      Ah, into the room, suits and shirts hung up, dob kit out and it looks like there may be a decent pillow on the bed. Still sleep time is being chewed up and that breakfast meeting is getting closer. Teeth are brushed and I reach for my mouth wash wondering the moment it hits my tongue why it had become like a gel.  I didn't have time to riddle that before the taste slammed me in the head with a realization-I had just taken a big swig of shampoo. Have you tried to rinse out a mouthful of shampoo?  I hope you never must.  That is when the switch began to click down.

     Now sitting here marveling at the youth of the road warriors, my nostrils assaulted by a few nights of dry hotel air, and damp chill of Indianapolis winter, my throat equally scratchy I knew definitively the road has passed me by. Even for vacation travel, I get a big sense of dread whenever I think about the packing, airports, the transfers, the hotels and what have you. I love to jump into the car and go explore, but it is the airports and the planes and not being in control that is the problem. 

    On this morning I'm listening to several weaves of conversation-missed connections, mechanical delays, scrambling to reschedule meetings, security clearance nightmares and etc. Been there and done that. I logged many thousands of miles at 36 thousand feet, all around this blue marble. There was a time I thought I could do it forever. On this morning, that seemed like a lifetime ago.  

      All I wanted now was to hug Lana, pet the cats, see the big Pacific and rolling Santa Lucia Mountains, smell fresh air, real air and be with others who also appreciate an eclectic little village, miles from roaring semis, hotel air and shampoo for mouth wash. Guess I should surrender my road warrior credentials.  

      There's a post script though, since life is not a fairy tale.

The light rain falling as we deplaned down the steps and walked across the runway felt good in this drought inflicted state. The snafu in this land of contentment was a baggage conveyor that broke down as several of us seemed eager to end our individual odysseys. Oh well, the video loop that kept playing over the bag less conveyor featured the scenic best of the coast, vineyards, hiking trails and at least, we were home.

      And the soaking my bag got, waiting to take its turn in the tunnel seemed to have dissolved those road warrior credentials. Amen!

     SOMETHING GOOD

    For many of us who were Ball State University students, the above was probably a staple of our diet.  Pizza King was a local enterprise that etched itself into our history. This particular 8 inch personal creation is one of our favorites, eccentric though it may be. Hamburger with barbecue sauce.

It must be tasted to be appreciated.

   Anyone who has visited Indianapolis will recognize this as the century old and venerable Shapiro's Deli. The number of lunches I enjoyed here, and even a few dinner breaks with my Mom is incalculable. After spending a day shooting video on this last trip, being outside in a chill, though locals said it was a "nice" day, I stopped in for a bowl of their warming Matza Ball soup.

    There were a couple of other memory moments-below a plaque at the Indiana State Museum.

MOM'S MOMENT

   We would never visit the cemetery that mom did not want to pause at this sculpture. It was one of her favorite places.  The title is Innocence. Over the years it has become one of those special places for me.

    Now it is a place where I remember and in a very real

way, feel my mother's presence. Moment's like this can make the travel worthwhile.

    See you down the trail.