MMTT4S - I've Seen More Than I Can Recall

Captain’s Log: Summertime; As Willie says, “On the road, again.”

Aloha, amigos!

Miss me?

That’s what I thought. Of course you did. You see, in my Walter Mitty-esque brain, thousands of you have been wondering where my irregularly scheduled blog has been lately. Many of you are worried that I may have taken ill or gotten eaten by a shark. Some of you are panicked at the thought of carrying on much longer without my words of wisdom. A few of you are walking around in an audio-less stupor, not knowing what Jimmy Buffett song you should listen to.  To the masses of my readers, please accept my humble apology. I’ve been busy.

Having a restful and rejuvenating summer doesn’t register in my mind. When I’m greeted by colleagues with a greeting of, “I hope you’re well-rested and revitalized after the summer break,” I just stare back and try to mouth a reply, but nothing comes out.

I liken my time off to my hall closet – I try to cram as much into it as possible.

During the summer, I keep my “need to’s” to a minimum, completely ignore my “should’s,” and focus on my “want to’s” while carefully considering my “able to’s.”

That means I engage my gypsy soul by hitting the road.

Surfside Beach

DCI in Atlanta

Upon our recent return from Texas, I’ve been to Surfside Beach with my wife, son, and parents for a getaway; to Atlanta with my wife and son to see an amazing display of talent at the Drum Corps International Southeastern Regional Championships; to Wrightsville Beach with my wife to spend some time on the beach and water there with some dear friends; to Atlanta (again) with my fam to catch a Braves game and visit the College Football Hall of Fame; and back to Surfside tonight with my family to close out the summer (shhhh – don’t remind me). Those are my “want to’s” that have been influenced by my “able to’s.” In between, I’ve visited Bat Cave and Lake Murray to clean houses. Those are my “need to’s,” which help provide my “able to’s.”

Wrightsville Beach

Go Bravos!

In any case, I’ve been on the move and I love it. I’m not a homebody, that’s for sure. While I don’t return rested and relaxed, I do experience a change in attitude – no daily grind, no same ol’ scenery, no chores that I’ve put off for far too long. Life is just better out and about.

Image courtesy of Amazon.com

Today’s tropical tune is “Changes in Latitudes, Changes in Attitudes” – a Jimmy Buffett classic. It’s one of those non-negotiables at his concerts – songs that must be played to prevent a Parrot Head riot. It was originally released in 1977on his fantastic album by the same title. The song sticks to Buffett’s autobiographical formula that has worked well for him for years. The same formula that has created the Buffett persona that has driven the whole Margaritaville mystique and escapist empire. Although my own latitudes unfortunately haven’t varied much this summer (thanks to my “able to’s”) my summer location has been on a constant shift. This continual state of being on the go gets only a few moments of reprieve and reflection. And that’s fine with me. Like the song says, “…yesterday’s over my shoulder. So, I can’t look back for too long. There’s just too much to see waiting in front of me, and I know that I can’t go wrong.” Well, I can certainly go wrong, and often do, but that doesn’t stop me. Like, Buffett, who has been a worldwide troubadour since day one of his career, the relentless journeys satisfy some innate traveling jones of mine, produce more smiles and laughter, and, yet, seem a bit senseless to some. But, as Jimmy sings, “If we weren’t all crazy, we would go insane.”

Truth.

Aloha, amigos!

Corso's replacements

From Lightning Bug to Lightning - Experiences in Amazement, Part II

Within a few days of observing the rare and amazing unison light show of the fireflies of Congaree Swamp (Part I), I found myself on our bi-annual pilgrimage to Texas, or as I like to call it, The Republic - birthplace of  Tex-Mex, "Remember the Alamo", and…my wife. 

We make the 16-hour trek for 2 of the 3 big breaks from school - Christmas and summer. Spring break is typically beach time. I feel certain that if my in-laws ever move to the Texas coast, Spring Break would then qualify for the traveling-to-Texas trifecta.  

I don't mind the drive. Really. My gypsy soul tends to get restless near the end of May and November in anticipation of hitting the open road. My family has seemed to accept this about me, if not acquired the quality themselves. It certainly makes for more pleasant traveling, if nothing else. We have our traditions (always stop and gaze upon the Mississippi River, no matter what time of day or night) and games ("OK, who will spot a green convertible, giant peanut, or goat first?"). All in all, it's a wonderful family experience. 

Ironically, the only real arguments that break out are over the one thing placed in our vehicle to help ease the drive time monotony - the DVD player. Deciding on a movie, who gets to choose the movie, in what slot the movie should be returned in the multiple DVD case, who gets to hold the DVD case, who gets to hand the DVD to Mom to place in the player, at what volume should the movie be played, at what angle should the screen be set to avoid the most glare, the proper way to clean a DVD disc, why the DVD is skipping, why our DVD player a piece of junk, why we should or should not buy a new minivan because of our crummy DVD player, why Dad threw that last DVD out the window, was that a bad word Dad said, why Mom is looking at Dad like that... 

You get the idea.   

This trip was of the summer variety. We left late afternoon and hit Atlanta a few brief moments after the heavens had unleashed their fury upon the metropolitan area, catching the northern end of a storm that produced 65 mph. winds, quarter-sized hail, blinding rain, lots of stop-and-go driving and flashing hazards on the road. Horrendous conditions for driving through Chunky, Alabama, much less traffic-swollen Atlanta.  

Little did I know that this storm was just the beginning of a wondrous display of natural beauty, the likes of which I had never experienced before.  

One amazing light show produced and directed by Mother Nature (read about the synchronized firefly display previously posted) is uncommon. But that was just a warm-up for her main event.  

As soon as we cleared the rain of Atlanta, the westward skies remained cloudy. I anticipated driving through pockets of storms until we decided to stop for the evening. Not my choice for a pleasant, peaceful nighttime trek across the southeast. Any other time, rain is pleasant and peaceful. I love it. Just not when I'm trying to navigate my way around and between 18-wheelers, motorcycles, stalled Oldsmobiles, the texting teenager, and ma and pa going 30 in the lefthand lane...at night.  

That, thankfully, was not the case. Instead, we were treated to the most unbelievable lightning show this side of the Mississippi. The only reason I know this is because we stopped for the night just east of Jackson. It may have been the same on the other side of the river. I just don't know for sure.  

This was no ordinary lightning, if lightning can ever really be ordinary. No sir, no run-of-the-mill cloud-to-ground snoozers here. Not your everyday tree-blaster. Not even a brief cloud illuminator. The show we saw lit the entire skyward horizon between the outermost peripheries of our vision as we gazed westward. The electric fireworks paused for no longer than 10 seconds during the remainder of the night, a trip from Atlanta to Jackson, Mississippi. Not only did we get to see how the Earth would put on a Pink Floyd laser light show, we got to witness this marvel for hours nonstop. Were it not for other vehicles on the road, I'm not sure we actually needed headlights to illuminate I-20. 

As my passengers quietly nodded off into a sleep, no doubt filled with dreams of wonder, I realized I was privy to another one of those rare moments of wonder myself. It was simply and staggeringly beautiful. As the lights of Jackson appeared on the far horizon, Van Morrison quietly serenaded my drive with "Moondance", and the light show played on. I knew this was a truly special moment. I also knew I needed to stop for the night. The next day would hold more travel time (we were a little over half way now), more games, a stop at the Mighty Mississippi, and the part I anticipate the most: who knows what else.