12/25/20
- Norfolk, Virginia
Thought I’d better write the
updates before they’re gone from my memory bank, so I’m
writing this year’s first update en route.
Began this year’s adventure
lugging baggage (for two) down three flights of stairs to
pack the 2017 Chrysler Pacifica for the long journey to
our destination, St. Petersburg, Florida. Our building’s
elevator has been inoperable since the end of September
and repair and modernization of the 40-year old lift will
finally begin after the first of the year when the
made-to-order parts finally arrive with a crew from
Delaware knowledgeable enough to attack the job. It has
been a trying four-month ordeal for everybody in the
four-floor condo building, but we’re all in better
physical shape than when the elevator was working.
Vehicle finally loaded after six
trips up and down the three flights of stairs, you’re now
wondering why I used the collective pronouns (we/our) for
what is usually a solitary trip to some far-off land. No,
Schim is not going along; he lives in Orlando, after all.
No, this year my wife, Joan, is accompanying me. Unable to
visit her 99.5 year-old, sweet mother in the nursing home
because of the lockdown caused by the Covid virus pandemic
and able to return home quickly if needed, she decided to
join me for the three-month trip. Like a bad penny,
though, Schim is likely to turn up on my doorstep if the
vaccine finally makes a dent in the pandemic.
Why St. Petersburg, you may also
wonder? With the pandemic surging wildly around our
country, few foreign lands encourage our visits to their
soil. I might have returned to the Baja in Mexico,
beautiful Sicily, exciting Portugal, or even Argentina,
but good luck getting out of our country or into theirs.
Instead, I started planning a trip to St. Petersburg where
our oldest son, Gary, a bachelor with dog, relocated in
July to a house on the shore of Tampa Bay. After
significant research, now with help from a newly-
interested spouse, I rented an entire AirBnB house fifteen
minutes from our son’s new abode. Our son now works from
home and decided that three winters in Chicago were enough
for him; though he loved the city, he definitely didn’t
appreciate their frigid winters. The answer was to move to
St. Petersburg and he is now in the process of renovating
the new house, adding a pool, and installing a dock and
boat lift. That sounded like something that might be fun
watching.
First stop this Christmas morning
was near Skippack, PA, where son #2, his wife, and five
children reside. Exchanging gifts on their driveway,
opening them in the frosty garage with the door wide open,
and all wearing masks, (more COVID precautions), we began
our journey South after the twenty-minute exchange.
We navigated the Delmarva
Peninsula in frigid, 35 degree, blustery weather, ate our
Christmas dinner of fried chicken in the van in the
parking lot of a Royal Farms gas station on the way, and
crossed the long, Chesapeake Bay bridge-tunnel into
Norfolk at exactly 5:00 p.m. Searched for a hotel, since I
don’t enjoy driving after dark when there is little to
see, and located a Delta by Marriott near the Norfolk
Airport. Very reasonable, only two years old, and
immaculately clean, it was a perfect, first -night landing
spot.
We’ll surely get an early start
in the morning, since we were in our room by 5:30 and
asleep by 8:00 without ever turning on the TV. A long day
of driving exhausted these two seniors, but that status
got us a great discount at this beautiful hotel. The lease
on the AirBnB begins on December 29th, so we have a few
days to meander South from here, down route 17 along the
Atlantic coast. Our next landing target is Wilmington, NC,
but we’ll stop when tired and hole up where we can find a
clean (COVID again), safe room, wherever that may
be. Ciao!
12/26/20 - Murrell’s Inlet, Myrtle Beach,
South Carolina:
Another long day on the road,
departing Norfolk at 8:20 a.m. and arriving in Myrtle
Beach around 6:20 p.m. We only traveled 400 miles, but got
lost several times during the meandering process. For a
while there I thought we might spend the winter lost on
the coastal back roads of North Carolina. We brought no
maps, a mistaken oversight, and only had “Isabella” on our
GPS, the van’s compass, and the route signs to guide our
way. First, the three guides agreed; then there were route
17 signs AND business route 17 signs. Sometimes,
“Isabella” guided us on business routes and other times
she took bypasses around town centers. Then, she took us
off route 17 on what we figured must be a scenic shortcut
to Wilmington. NOT! When the asphalt ended and we faced
what looked like an endless dirt road, we decided to
follow the compass rather than go off-road. Florida is
South, right?
We kept plugging, though, and
blew right through beautiful Wilmington, NC. We would have
reached Myrtle Beach in daylight, but I took a wrong turn,
thinking I was on the relief route that avoids the
horrendous King’s Highway that is always bumper to bumper
and traffic light after traffic light on the Grand Strand.
I probably went 40 miles out of the way and got a little
testy with Joan as we both attempted to manipulate
“Isabella” to find our way through the maze that is Myrtle
Beach. Why anyone would want to live here is beyond me;
OK, 100 golf courses, a beautiful beach, a long boardwalk,
and tens of thousands of restaurants from which to choose
may draw some here. The traffic, though, is horrendous; I
described it to Joan as Ocean City, MD, on an overdose of
steroids.
We stopped for breakfast at a
funky, little, coffee shop in Elizabeth City, NC. There
were only a few people inside, all wore masks, and we were
a good 20 feet from anyone as we drank our coffee and
finished our banana bread and pumpkin bars. Delicious!
Lunch didn’t work out quite so well. We stopped in New
Bern at a seafood restaurant and both ordered the BBQ
platter, the day’s special. The hostess wore no mask, but
our waitress did, hopefully keeping us safe. The BBQ was
not so good, the only sauce a hot pepper-infused vinegar;
my rice drowned in brown gravy was bland, Joan’s fries
were just average, but the free, basket of hush puppies
were outstanding, certainly the best by far of any puppies
in our past. The restaurant was almost empty, we could see
no other diners but one distant diner on the other side of
the large booth dividers sneezed loudly several times,
making me nervous. This Covid surge has me all but
paranoid!
The thousands of restaurants on
the Grand Strand, large and small, buffet or with table
service, had jammed-full parking lots we observed as we
passed through, searching for a hotel in the dark. We
finally found this wonderful Hampton Inn, were upgraded to
a suite, and decided to eat snacks in our suite (I love
saying that), rather than risk the crowded restaurants.
There have been no restrictions on restaurant dining in
South Carolina since May 15th! They may have had
outside dining during the summer, but nobody was dining
outside in the 36 degree temperature that they suffered
through as we arrived at the hotel.
Tomorrow, it will be an early
start for another long drive to Charleston or Savannah
where we might spend an extra night. Who knows what will
happen when you’re in the meander mode.
12/27/20
- Just Outside Savannah, Georgia:
After a short run from Myrtle
Beach, we took a quick trip through Charleston to refresh
memories of previous visits to the gorgeous city. I often
said that, when I become too old for foreign travel, I
would like to winter one year in Charleston. How exciting
it would be to live for three months like a local in that
historic city. The city’s streets were crowded with
tourists, many sitting outside having lunch in the 55
degree temps. The tourists don’t seem to mind the cool
temps, but the natives were freezing.
We had lunch sitting outside in a
bar/restaurant across the bridge from Charleston. We
weren’t going to chance mingling with the tourists and
found a safe corner in the restaurant that had plastic
covering surrounding a few tables with open, outside
access for the waitresses to duck under - plenty of
ventilation. Food was just OK, then we jumped back in the
van to meander Southward, driving mostly on two-lane,
alternate route 17 (thanks Isabella).
We crossed over route 95 as we
approached Savannah and noticed gridlocked lines of
traffic, often extending to the top of the on-ramp, a full
half-mile from the merge lane. Many folks must have been
heading home after the Christmas holiday. Isabella and the
GPS got many thanks from us as we buzzed by on the
overpasses averaging about 60 miles/hour on the
lightly-traveled back roads.
Arriving in the historic center
of Savannah, I checked the price of a nice Hampton Inn
but, even after some of my serious bargaining, I could
only negotiate the nightly price to $200, which didn’t
include parking and taxes. Refusing to pay that much for a
solitary night of sleep, I ordered Isabella to head us
toward Jacksonville, FL, figuring we’d find a less
expensive hotel along the way. Sure enough, not far out of
town, we located a Baymont by Wyndham ($69) that was clean
and recently refurbished. After check-in, a short trip to
a 4.5-star-Yelp-rated, Korean BBQ restaurant produced a
delicious meal and a great dining adventure.
After a good night’s sleep, we’ll
head out for Jacksonville and, probably, Gainesville in
the morning. After a chilly 36 degree start, the high temp
reached 60 degrees today. Methinks, we’re heading in the
right direction. Ciao!
12/28/2020 - Bushnell, Florida:
Whose idea was it to take five
days and meander South to Florida? I know: it was mine,
but the derriere is sore and the patience is wearing thin.
I might be getting too old to do this stuff; there goes my
idea of driving to Skagway, Alaska.
We left outside of Savannah in a
leisurely fashion, actually simply a late start, but
wasted 45 minutes hunting for a coffee shop to breakfast
on the run. Finally ended up in a creepy gas station where
Joan got her coffee and a Krispy Kreme cinnamon bun, but I
opted for a couple of vanilla Oreo cookies packed from
home and a Starbucks Frappuccino from the cooler in the
van. I thought the place too grimy for me.
Isabella guided us on back roads
where there was almost no traffic and we could average
almost 60 mph. Saw an enormous amount of clear-cut land
and long logs on trucks headed for pulp mills. Eventually,
the traffic picked up as we neared Gainesville and cruised
by the campus of the University of Florida. Go Gators!
Continuing South through the low
hills of horse country around Ocala, we stopped at a Pilot
Travel Station for a bite, eaten in the car, and finally
bought a map - of Florida. We should know where we’re
going now that we’ve almost arrived. Twenty minutes South
of Ocala, we quickly passed through a couple of The
Villages which were lovely, but the lifestyle didn’t
appear to be our cup of tea. We started searching (thanks,
again to Isabella and the GPS) for a hotel around 4:00
p.m. and finally found a decent Microtel near Interstate
75 a little before 5:00. We are only two or three hours
from St. Petersburg and should make it there for our
afternoon check-in tomorrow. The meander will finally come
to an end!
12/30/2020
- St. Petersburg, Florida:
After a late start yesterday to
allow time for the bodies to recharge, we drove a couple
hours through rural, central Florida before popping out on
heavily-commercialized, coastal route 19, jammed with
traffic and traffic signals. An hour or so of that was
more than enough, so we looped over to alternate route 19
which really is a coastal route with many views of the
turquoise waters of the Gulf of Mexico. The going was
slow, through famous Gulf towns, like Tarpon Springs and
Dunedin, but with much less traffic and fewer traffic
lights. Only a traffic jam crossing the high bridge from
Clearwater to Clearwater Beach slowed our way South but,
hey, with those views, an outside temp that the Pacifica
showed to be 82 degrees, and throngs of skimpily-attired
young folks exercising along the bicycle paths, who could
complain?
At the recommendation of our son,
now a Floridian, we stopped in downtown Dunedin at a
lovely fish market/restaurant for lunch and a respite from
the rigors of driving. Joan, not a big seafood lover,
opted for a fresh, Gulf shrimp skewer and potato salad,
while I went for a grilled Grouper sandwich (lettuce,
tomato, & tartar sauce) after sampling a tasty conch
fritter as a starter. Both meals were delicious, but my
sandwich registered a 10 on the food Richter Scale! The
grouper was almost still wiggling with freshness and was
grilled perfectly, making each bite drip with the subtle
flavor of the sea. Did I say it was absolutely
spectacular? Thanks for the tip on the restaurant, Gary!
We arrived at our rental AirBnB
right at the scheduled 3:00 p.m. check-in time and Gary
met us and assisted in the unloading of the van. He was
accompanied by his unbelievably-friendly labradoodle,
Kacey, fresh from her trip to the grooming salon. We
apparently brought enough clothing, food, golf and fishing
gear, towels, and electronic equipment to make this move
permanent, but we finally got the van unloaded. The house
is perfect, certainly much better than the doomsday
horrors Joan was envisioning, and with all the amenities
we’ll require for the next three months.
We then followed Gary to his
recently-acquired house on the small island in Tampa Bay,
only a tiny bridge from the St. Pete mainland and with a
beautiful view of the water. The small house was lovely,
but the yard is undergoing excavation for the pool that
should be ready for use in February. The house will be a
show stopper once the pool, the dock and boat lift, and
the yet-to-begin building renovation are completed.
After the tour, Gary led us to
Gulfport, a nearby neighborhood or contiguous, small town
for dinner at an Italian restaurant. Sitting outside,
listening to the live music of a guitar-playing vocalist
under strings of lights and unnecessary propane heaters
with Kacey lying peacefully by the table made for a great
welcome to St. Petersburg. Oh, the food was great, too!
Isabella directed us home through
the confusing maze of the city’s streets and we collapsed
exhausted in a very comfortable bed. The remainder of the
unpacking could wait another day. Ciao!
01/03/2021 - St. Pete, FL:
The New Year holiday has come and
gone rather uneventfully here in the Sunshine State,
unless you consider fireworks and loud explosions until
3:40 a.m. New Year’s Eve an event. We are located on a
relatively busy street in St. Petersburg that suburbanites
might find a tad noisy, but permanent residence in our
downtown condo on the regular fire truck, police, and
ambulance route has made this noise level seem almost
bucolic. No sirens screaming by under our windows at any
hour of the day or night and able to hear the anchors on
the network evening news (no, not the Fox Network) had us
enjoying the peace and quiet until, that is, New Year’s
Eve. Observing roadside fireworks vendors along almost
every route we traveled on our way South, it should have
come as no surprise to hear some fireworks on the
holidays; here, however, the cacophonic celebration seemed
like an artillery barrage beginning as soon as the sun set
and continuing through the night. Window shaking
explosions that sounded like no other fireworks we have
ever heard and seeing no colorful, overhead flares made
the event seem even more like an attack. On New Year’s
Day, we even found metal washers and nuts on our front
driveway; were they shrapnel from the previous night’s
onslaught? We have no idea, but couldn’t find damage to
the van that sat outside all night during the barrage. Oh,
well, Happy 2021!!
We enjoyed the traditional pork
and sauerkraut dinner on New Year’s day, prepared by our
bachelor son as he has managed to whip up every New Year’s
since having a home of his own, whether in Wilkes Barre,
Bridgeport (near King of Prussia), or Chicago, all places
he has lived before moving to St. Pete in July of this
year. He apparently loves the German dish as does his
mother who drove over and joined us for the evening
repast. I can eat it, but an annual meal is plenty of the
kraut for me.
Before that meal and very early
(8:30) in the morning for Joan, Gary picked me up; he’s
only 15 minutes away. We stopped for coffee and donuts and
at a local bait shop for live bait (grass shrimp), then
proceeded to his house on Coquina Key in Tampa Bay. We set
up a couple of canvas lawn chairs on top of his sea wall,
rigged our gear, and started fishing on the incoming tide.
Many of the shrimp apparently committed suicide, but four
wound up in the bellies of fish that were brought ashore.
They were small, but each was a different species:
Mangrove snapper, Ray, Pinfish, and Ladyfish, a type of
Bonefish. Nothing much to brag about, but loads of fun and
a great morning opportunity to talk with our oldest son,
whom we haven’t seen in ages.
The following day he took us to
the colorful, outside, Saturday market (masks required) in
downtown St. Pete, which also happens to be called the
best dog city in the country by a recent magazine and I
think all the critters go to Saturday market. It was an
interesting market with quite a few items for sale that
one could only find in a tropical environment:
freshly-squeezed orange juice, basil plants, Cubano
sandwiches and other delicious-looking Cuban dishes, herbs
& spices, and too many other items to remember. The
market is a great morning tradition, one that I’m certain
that I’ll repeat. Though she made the trip that day, it’s
a little too early for Joan to be repeating the visit,
however.
We followed the market visit with
a trip to Tampa, 30 minutes away, to a place called Top
Golf. A three-tiered, inside/outside golf driving range
run like a bowling alley and impeccably sanitized, where
even the clubs are wiped down after each group. The range
is set up and used by golfers from beginners to aged
veterans (like yours truly) with unusual games that can
interest all. We ate lunch, sitting in our “alley,”
separated from the next “alley” by ten feet or so and a
plastic divider that is also wiped down after each use. It
was a great, re-introduction to the golf swing for those
of us who haven’t touched a club for a few months and even
un-athletic Joan enjoyed hitting a few balls.
Sophisticated computers tracked every shot, awarded points
for targets hit, and kept all involved. An enjoyable
activity, one engaged in by many young people who also
thoroughly enjoyed the three bars in the place. From the
traffic the day we were there, I’d say the chain is a huge
money maker in locations around the country. Don’t know
how they adapt to cold weather locations, because our
activity was almost entirely outside. The nearest
locations to us at home are in southern MD and in NJ
across the river from Philadelphia. I won’t have to return
to Top Golf; I located a nine-hole public golf course with
driving range only 10 minutes from our house. I can get
there, hit a bucket of balls, and return home before Joan
is even out of bed in the morning! Ciao!
01/10/21 - St. Petersburg, FL:
Quite a few activities to
summarize since I last updated, so I’ll get right to it
this Sunday morning: I made several recent trips to
my son’s new home on the shore of Tampa Bay, just 15
minutes from our AirBnB rental that is only half-a-block
off of busy, heavily-commercialized route 19 along
Florida’s Gulf Coast. It turns out that our street is a
great location, not nearly as frenetic as 34th St. (route
19), but close to the many businesses just around the
corner, like pharmacies, groceries (Winn Dixie, Publix are
the big ones here), restaurants, gas stations, Walmart,
Sam’s Club, and bait shops.
Bait shops, you no doubt ask?
Yes, two of the trips to my son’s house were,
unaccompanied by spouse, rather early in the morning to
fish from his sea wall. A stop at the bait shop yielded
two dozen, live, grass shrimp for bait and the hook rigs
used locally. The fish seemed to enjoy the bait, only two
remained in the bait bucket after more than 60 (bait shop
employees don’t count well) were offered over two days to
aquatic life in the canal that enters the bay at my son’s
property line. A total of five creatures (photos on the
way) were careless enough to end up on our hooks during
the sessions that lasted a total of six hours, but a great
time was had by yours truly, my son, Gary, his dog, Kacey,
and the well-fed creatures of the deep.
Joan and I made an early trip to
tour Gary’s house and I made another visit to be certain
the construction crew was installing the pool properly.
Photos of the progress in pool construction are also on
the way.
I made one trip last week to the
public golf course 10 minutes distant from our driveway to
hit balls at the driving range. I purchased an
overflowing, small bucket of balls and only hit a quarter
of the bucket before deciding that a gradual start in
reviving my golf muscles was the right course of action. I
hit about a dozen balls with my driver using the low
rubber tee on the mat and only one was poorly struck off
the heel of the club. I also hit a dozen eight irons off
the mat itself. I couldn’t believe how well I struck the
ball after the long layoff and I didn’t bounce any hits
off the mat, a common problem when hitting off mats. Wow,
I impressed myself, as well as a couple of elderly hackers
on either side of me. I putted for 10 minutes on the
well-kept green and called it a day after explaining my
use of the long putter to three women who, apparently, had
never seen such a weapon.
A fortunate occurrence this week
was recovering Joan’s jacket that she left in the hotel in
Bushnell, FL, several days ago. This light, pink jacket
was one that I purchased for her several years ago on my
solitary, road trip to Santa Barbara, California, and one
that she only recently started wearing more frequently. It
was a favorite of mine and the many compliments she got
about the coat had begun to make it a favorite of hers. We
brainstormed where she might have left it - restaurants?
rest stops? hotels? We finally decided that it must have
been in the Microtel in Bushnell. We had the receipt,
checked for a phone number, made one call and - bingo -
learned they had it. It was a problem for them to mail it
to us, so we headed back to Bushnell, making the trip on
the interstates and it only took 70 minutes to get there.
It must have taken us four hours to make the same trip
using secondary roads on the way South. A very lucky
recovery!! Oh, we stopped for lunch at the Fish
Market/restaurant in Dunedin on the way back and the same
delicious grouper sandwich was my reward for making the
trip.
Although we will get little
sympathy, we are suffering through a two-week cold snap
that is very unusual in these parts. A high temp of 54
degrees today made it a tad chilly sitting outside at the
Tiki Restaurant at the marina for lunch today. Brr, but
the food was good and the ambiance unbeatable! Hasta
luego!
01/17/21 - St. Petersburg, FL:
The pandemic is certainly
dampening our activities in Florida but, thanks to the
warmer weather, outside dining is possible. When we don’t
eat outside, we (Joan) cook at home or get take-out. We
are trying to be very careful and avoid contact with
others, but passing people safely even in uncrowded
grocery stores and outside restaurants is difficult.
Hopefully, the masks required by every business we enter
and the limited contact in passing will be sufficient to
avoid the recent, highly-contagious, mutations of the
Covid virus. So far, so good, but a close friend, also
wintering in Florida was not so fortunate and is currently
in the hospital battling the virus and pneumonia. We are
praying and pulling for his recovery.
My son had hernia surgery last
week and is recovering remarkably well. We transported him
to and from the hospital for the laparoscopic, day surgery
and spent his first two nights of recovery with him. We’re
back home (AirBnB) and have returned to our daily
routines.
My routine is a relatively early
morning visit to the coffee shop in Gulfport where I sit
outside with a decaf-au-lait and a small sweet for
breakfast. This morning, wearing shorts, a golf shirt, and
a fleece sweatshirt to ward off the chilly, 57 degree
temp, I was very comfortable watching the myriads of
people walking their dogs. I can see why St. Pete was
called the best dog city in the USA. Departing the coffee
shop, I drove to the municipal parking lot overlooking a
small beach and the bay and enjoyed watching the pelicans
diving not far offshore for their breakfast. Plenty more
dog walkers passing by, too.
Joan’s morning is a little
slower, although this morning she was up early to
Zoom-attend (a new verb?) her church. Usually, she arises
much later than I, makes coffee, toasts an English muffin,
spreads it with honey peanut butter and watches the Today
Show, with whose stars she is, apparently, on a first-name
basis.
Yesterday, the two of us and our
son went on a Saturday drive across the magnificent Skyway
Coastal Bridge to Bradenton. While driving we remembered
the Facebook posting of one of our friends who was
enjoying a blackened grouper sandwich at Tide Tables, an
outside, bayside, seafood-shack kind of place and, feeling
hunger pangs, we headed there. Securing a picnic table two
or three feet from the bay, I enjoyed a cup of curried
grouper stew and a blackened grouper sandwich that was
sensational. Gary had a fried grouper sandwich and Joan,
never a seafood lover, went for the grilled shrimp. It was
a delightful stop although quite windy on our table by the
bay.
Gary and I went fishing a day or
two before his surgery, but we didn’t go “catching!” I
caught a nice Ladyfish, but that was the only fish we were
able to land in a couple hours of lashing the water. The
fish apparently enjoyed the grass shrimp they repeatedly
stole off our hooks and we called feeding fish our good
deed for the day. Ciao.
01/26/21 - St. Petersburg, FL:
Though I’m not much of a
professional football fan (I hate the taunting, lack of
sportsmanship, and childish celebrations) I have watched
the Super Bowl in several different countries. In
Portugal, Spain, Argentina, and Mexico where the
broadcasts were in Portuguese or Spanish and where the
halftime entertainment was very different, I enjoyed the
game, especially the colorful differences of foreign TV. I
remember in Mexico the halftime show included Mexican
cheerleaders in short skirts dancing on a bar in Mexico
City. Can’t figure out why I enjoyed that memory so much.
Never, however, have I been as physically close (fewer
than 30 minutes drive) as I will be to this year’s Super
Bowl in Raymond James Stadium. I imagine that the
restaurants will be jammed, the streets crowded, and the
fan base enthusiastic, but I’ll stay at home to watch,
provided the broadcast will be on one of the five or six
channels we get on our TV. We don’t get ESPN so, if that’s
who is carrying the broadcast, I’ll impose on Gary and
watch on his GIGANTIC big screen TV.
The warmer weather of Florida
winters has returned many of the outdoor activities I
enjoy in the summer at home. I have found a very nice,
18-hole, public golf course about 20 minutes away with a
wonderful driving range where you hit off the grass (not
mats) and a great practice green with well-manicured sand
traps from which to practice the very infrequent shots I
must make out of the sand. There are also two, giant,
putting greens where my long (very long) putter creates
curious looks of envy from other poor putters looking for
a solution to their putting woes.
On my one trip there, I may go
again this afternoon or tomorrow, I hit a small bucket
($6) of balls, using only my eight iron, five iron, and a
half-dozen with my driver. This time, the swing was not as
solid since I got too “handsy and wristy” as I tired. I
then took the last 10 balls in the bucket to the nearby
chipping and sand trap green and hit a few balls from the
trap and from the fringe. Almost completely worn out, I
got a couple (2) balls from my bag and spent 10 minutes,
no more, on the wonderful putting green. My back could
take no more and I called it a day after a trip to the
second-floor pro shop to inquire about greens fees. Turns
out the rate, including cart, is a relatively reasonable
$53. When my game is ready, I will head there as a single
to see if I can hook up with a group of golfers looking
for a fourth. I’m also certain that my son, Gary, and I
will play a couple of rounds there after the surgeon gives
him clearance to start swinging a club again.
One morning during my morning
explorations, I spotted a softball game on a
meticulously-maintained field in a lovely, bayside park in
downtown St. Petersburg. As a former fast-pitch, softball
player of some renown, at least in my own mind, I seized
the moment (carpe diem) and swung into the big parking lot
between the competitive swimming pool and the ball field,
and climbed the beautiful, covered stands behind home
plate to watch the action. Turns out it was a league of
old players 50-74 years of age. No windmill or whip
pitching allowed, the pitchers’ hips must always face home
plate. The large, modern electronic scoreboard immediately
brought me up to speed on the status of the game, played
with two home plates to avoid collisions and minimize
pandemic exposure. No bunting or stealing was permitted
and it was very enjoyable watching the boys of yesteryear
re-live their athletic dreams, though with significantly
reduced skills. They have printed a glossy program with
photos of all the players from the rosters of the four
teams, explanations about their program, and an extensive
listing of the previous year’s statistics. They play a
(gasp) 60-game schedule and, though I saw no home runs,
one player hit 75 dingers over the handsome, yellow-topped
fence the previous year. I only saw a couple innings
before the game ended, but returned a week later and
watched another couple of innings.
The well-known “Kids and Cubs”
team of players 75 and over (no age limit) also plays on
the same beautiful, grass-infield diamond twice a week.
This old timers organization plays games around the
country, I think that they have played in our city in
years past, and I can’t wait to watch one of their games.
I have picked up information about tryouts, just in case I
get the urge to play one more time. I’m sure I’ll dazzle.
Most of our dining has been at
home or takeout, but we have ventured forth, usually with
Gary, to a couple of interesting places that have outside
dining, the last on the dock of a marina very near the
famous, humongous, pink, Don Cesar Hotel on St. Pete
Beach. The sea food has been very fresh and the
restaurants’ precautions very comforting to our group of
paranoid diners. Tonight we plan to venture forth again to
an Italian Restaurant (Verducci’s) in St. Pete Beach that
has great reviews on Yelp. Temps have reached the 70’s the
past week or so, so we should be good to go on outside
dining there. Ciao.
02/02/21 - St. Petersburg, Florida:
Early Saturday morning, early for
Joan, that is (9:30), we headed South on an all-day, day
trip to St. James City on Pine Island near Cape Coral and
Ft. Myers. Slightly less than a two-hour drive if I had
taken Interstate 75, the trip stretched to four-and-a-half
hours on the coastal, scenic route, but well worth the
investment of time. Zipping through Bradenton where we
recently had lunch, we hit the gorgeous bay front park of
downtown Sarasota and took a few photos that I will share
after composing this update.
Then, it was on to Siesta Key,
recently judged the most beautiful beach in the country by
some national magazine and advertised that way on many
roadside signs. Having been on the gorgeous beach
previously, but wanting Joan to experience the fine, white
sand on the broad beach, I searched hard and still
couldn’t find the beach access that I remembered from
years past. I finally did locate an access point and
parking slightly outside of the town’s center with very
white sand, even though the beach itself lacked the charm
of the beach in my memory of the town’s center. Photos to
be included.
Escaping the traffic of Siesta,
we headed South again to charming Venice where a Saturday
market blocked our path to the jetty park we had enjoyed
in a prior visit. Not to worry, we pointed the van South
once more, passing the outskirts of Punta Gorda and Port
Charlotte before reaching Matlacha, on the quaint, narrow
sliver of land that is the gateway to Pine Island. Lunch
outside next to the canal with the sun shining brightly
and a live, three-piece band playing oldies was a great
experience, especially the fresh grilled grouper sandwich
that I enjoyed. I also had a cup of one of the best New
England clam chowders that I have ever eaten. Joan had a
crab cake that was OK, but certainly no match for the
Chesapeake blue crab cakes with which we’re familiar.
After lunch, a trip to the mobile
home on Pine Island that I once rented for a winter of
fishing with my brother and a few drop-in friends and
relatives who periodically joined us. I drove straight to
the place without a wrong turn (the memory loss must not
yet be Alzheimer’s), and caught the new owner, a Canadian,
at work shoveling a load of stone into a wheelbarrow.
Eager for a break, he engaged us in an informative
conversation about his renovation of the property. Done
entirely by himself in the last year-and-a-half, the
entire interior has been gutted, re-configured and
renovated. New windows and siding had the place looking
almost new. To avoid the Canadian Covid lockdown, he had
flown South and shipped his car. Apparently, there is
always a creative and completely legal way to skirt the
law. He did jokingly ask that I not contact the local
building inspector about his concrete (stone) project.
We used interstate 75 and buzzed
home in under two hours, arriving on our doorstop in the
last few minutes of daylight. One long day on the road,
but an enjoyable way to wile away a winter day in 70
degree temperatures.
Sunday brought the best Italian meal of the trip when son,
Gary, invited us to partake of the fresh pasta (made in
his stainless steel pasta machine with hand crank) and
shrimp in a very light Parmesan and butter sauce.
Scrumptious!
Other than hitting another bucket
of balls and chipping and putting an additional time, that
pretty well wrapped up the time since my last update. Not
all that exciting, but I shoveled no snow and scraped no
windshields. Ciao!
02/08/21 - St. Petersburg, Florida:
The excitement of this week was
last night’s Super Bowl and the victory by the hometown
Tampa Bay Buccaneers! We are living this winter in
adjacent St. Pete, fewer than 30 minutes from Raymond
James Stadium and have been bombarded for a couple of
weeks with TV reports of preparations for the big event.
We watched the game from Gary’s (eldest son) house on
Tampa Bay and aside from the game on his 70” screen and
the delicious meal of Peri-Peri chicken, rice, and
broccoli salad that he prepared for us, the big thrill was
spotting from his backyard the flyover military jets above
Tampa Bay as they approached the stadium. Gary and Joan
both captured the event in photos I’ll share later today.
We had to root for the hometown team, especially because
Chris Godwin, a former Penn State star, started at wide
receiver for the Bucs. Driving home after the game at
11:00 p.m. on a Sunday night should have been in extremely
light traffic, but traffic was rather heavy as locals
headed home after watching the game elsewhere. Safely
home, I collapsed into bed, having broken considerably
this winter’s record for late night living.
Most of the remainder of the past
week was pretty routine: up in the morning, coffee shop
(OK or donut shop) for coffee and a breakfast sweet, then
hitting the bricks for a morning walk. Not wanting to push
the fragile knees too quickly, I have hit 1.5 miles only
once in my morning efforts. Pretty hard to beat the
scenery, though, walking immediately beside the harbor on
the walkway that curves for a couple miles on the sea wall
of the bay in the huge, beautiful, downtown, public park.
I usually then cruise at a snail’s pace through one of the
adjacent neighborhoods where large gorgeous homes are
interspersed with old, tiny, one-story bungalows that one
could probably pick up at a bargain basement price under
one million dollars. One gorgeous neighborhood is on Snell
Isle where there can’t be any properties under a million.
Prone to flooding, we’re informed by our son, we decided
not to resettle there. Nearby neighborhoods in Old
Northeast St. Petersburg, had many beautiful homes that
also impressed. Slowly traveling through the old,
oft-times-brick streets produced many beautiful views of
the tropical landscaping and breathtaking homes. The
routine often includes returning home, picking up Joan,
going to an outside dining cafe, then re-exploring the
neighborhoods I had discovered earlier.
One morning as I headed home, I
discovered an arboretum included in the magnificent public
park along the bay. That day, this past Saturday if my
memory serves me correctly, I took Joan to the park and we
strolled through the beautiful arboretum. I have included
too many photos of that visit, but I was impressed with
the botanical experience. Next up, after the Super Bowl
crowds disperse, is to visit the Sunken Gardens, one of
the oldest tourist attractions in St. Petersburg and now
owned by the city.
“Mask Up!” Is still our modus
operandi whenever we leave the house or the van. We almost
procured an appointment for a vaccination last Wednesday
at the big southern grocery, Publix, and could have gotten
one in an Atlantic Coast county that would have taken a
3.5 or four-hour drive to get poked. We’re hoping that
things will open up here shortly and we can get vaccinated
nearby. We’ll keep trying and keep protecting ourselves
until then. Hasta luego!
02/15/21 - St. Petersburg, FL:
We experienced partial success
this week as Joan was able to obtain an appointment for a
Covid vaccination and we successfully made the trek about
an hour inland to Plant City (strawberry capital of the
world, they say) where she had it administered. It took us
two hours to get there, since I eliminated expressways on
the GPS and the route took us through heavy, Saturday,
Tampa traffic, right past Raymond James Stadium the site
of the recent Super Bowl. The return trip, using
expressways, reduced the trip to an hour that we will have
to repeat when it’s time for her second Moderna shot.
Unfortunately, the older of the two of us has been unable
to get an appointment, though about 10 hours of my time
have been spent watching the iPad screen and seeing the
available shots tick off until there are no more
available. The most available shots are given at the
Publix grocery chain, a major contributor to the state’s
governor’s political campaign. He is a Trump supporter and
appears to be a little bit of a loose cannon. Walmart and
Sam’s Club, only a few blocks away from our Airbnb, have
started giving shots, but have yet to have an opening that
I can secure.
On a bright, sunny afternoon
interrupted by some brief, heavy showers on the way, we
headed to Sarasota and visited the Ringling, a museum
focused on the famous circus, Ringling Brothers Barnum and
Bailey. The beautiful mansion and property were donated in
his will by John Ringling, the last surviving of the five
Ringling brothers and is a great experience if you are
into circuses or miniature replicas thereof. I am neither.
Joan enjoyed the place much more than I, but I never saw a
Christmas train yard I liked, either. One whole floor of
the museum was devoted to the miniature circus/train
display of a man named Tibbals who has spent the last
fifty years or so making a humongous, scale model of the
Ringling Circus. Mr. Tibbals is still alive and probably
still making miniatures of circus life in what appears to
be an obsessive compulsion. Old films of the circus and
informative signs around the miniature display made the
visit a little more tolerable for me. On the ground floor,
Mr. Ringling’s lavish, personalized, train car and two or
three circus wagons were more interesting. Best of all was
the lunch we had, overlooking a beautiful pond with
splashing fountain. Joan enjoyed one of the best
hamburgers of her life and I had an encrusted tuna,
Niçoise salad that saved the day.
Yesterday, Sunday, Gary joined us
for a short trek to Tarpon Springs where Greek sponge
divers still ply the waters for sponges and where souvenir
shops and Greek restaurants line the streets. Gary had
never been to Tarpon Springs before and for Joan it was a
return visit. On previous trips to Florida, I have visited
Tarpon Springs four or five times but, with family
accompanying me, it was again a memorable experience. I’ll
hate myself for saying it, but the best part of the trip
was the delicious, Greek meal we enjoyed in the fresh air
on the back porch of a restaurant that was chock full of
tourists at the inside tables. My grilled octopus and the
flaming saganaki (cheese) and spanakopita (spinach pie)
appetizers were outstanding. We were overlooking the water
on a porch visited by seagulls looking for a meal. A very
nice day trip.
Speaking of birds looking for
meals, though, then there was Georgie, a night heron that
visited the deck of the Seabreeze Restaurant on Treasure
Island where the three of us had ventured forth earlier in
the week once more looking for sustenance. Georgie must be
a regular there and an interesting specimen, because the
waitress called him by name as she repeatedly chased him
from the premises. Georgie is very photogenic and I will
share several photos of him.
The great thing about staying
this long in one place is the flexibility in schedules.
Actually, there are no schedules. Day trips are pretty
much spontaneous; hopefully, the Sunken Gardens and the
Salvador Dali Museum will soon spontaneously appear on a
morning’s plans. I’ll let you know how they turn out.
Hasta luego!
02/24/21 - St. Petersburg, FL:
Plenty to pass along this week.
First the big news: we have now both received the first
Covid-19 vaccine! Joan got hers the Thursday before last
in Plant City and I got mine in Largo the following
Tuesday. She received the Moderna vaccine and I got the
Pfizer. There was no waiting for her shot; she walked up
to the pharmacy window at the Plant City Publix store and
the pharmacist asked, “Are you Joan?” She sat on a nearby
chair and the drug was administered, no problem at all and
no line in which to wait. We were watching TV on the
following Monday evening when Joan got a text, informing
her that there was a shot available for her the next
morning in Largo, but that she would receive no further
alerts. Since she had already gotten hers, she proceeded
to enter my data into the registration forms. Job done, I
reported to a local government center just after lunch the
following day, stood in bright sunshine on a warm, sunny
day at the end of a long, winding line that barely moved
for 10 or 15 minutes, but which then moved steadily until
I was checked for my temperature, had my age verified on
my PA driver’s license, and was admitted into the
building. They did ask if I had a lease to prove my long
term residence in a rental in Florida and I did, but they
never glanced at it, accepting my word that I qualified
for the shot. Bing, bang, bong, no pain at all and the
whole, well-organized process only took an hour of my
time, including the 15-minute wait to check for an
allergic reaction. Well done, Pinellas County! Well,
except for the more than 10 hours I wasted on the computer
trying to get registered. Interestingly, Joan’s second,
Moderna shot is scheduled for March 13 and my second,
Pfizer shot on March 9th, even though she got the first
shot first. I was fatigued the next two days, but needed
to hunt with my other hand to find any soreness at all at
the vaccination site. I feel a little more protected
already!
While recuperating from the
vaccination process, remember my fatigue, we toured the
Sunken Gardens of St. Petersburg. Beautiful tropical
plants of all sorts, lovely pools of Koi, a flock of
flamingos, other tropical parrots in cages, and even a
couple large tortoises made an interesting hour or so, but
really wore us out in the heat of the day. I needed a
couple stops at the many benches provided for people to
take in the gorgeous environment. An afternoon well spent,
but I was tuckered out at day’s end that occurred shortly
after 7:00 p.m. You can view the new photos in Album
6.
I also wanted to mention a word
or two about the driverless, tourist shuttle that plies
the downtown area, moving trusting tourists through the
lovely bayside area. I say trusting because it is very
unnerving to see a 10-12 passenger, pink, bus-like vehicle
moving through traffic with absolutely no driver in
control. One of these days, I’ll have to jump aboard to
have a round-trip go with the phantom driver.
Last night brought a very unique
experience, another one that even I couldn’t make up! We
spent the night with a strange cat prowling our house. I
was awakened by Joan about 10:00 p.m. with the news that
the feline was on the loose. We had seen the pretty,
young, gray, feline with white facial markings skulking
around bushes in the neighbor’s yard and occasionally in
ours, but it was very skittish and frightened by our
passing presence. Apparently yesterday, when I took out a
bag of trash to the can 20 yards or so away in the back
yard and failed to close the back door, the curious cat
seized the opportunity and skulked her way into our house.
Joan was watching TV from the sofa, noticed some movement,
looked, and saw the poor creature sitting in the middle of
the living room floor looking at her. A word or two sent
the feline dashing for safety in the back, unused (by us)
bedroom looking for cover. Still half asleep, I rumbled
through the entire apartment, never catching a glimpse of
the poor thing, and crawled back in bed to face the issue
in the morning.
Early, very early, this morning,
we both heard noises, but not really cat noises (you know,
meow, meow) through the bedroom door we had closed
securely to prevent unexpected company in bed. Just noises
like the cat was going through the refrigerator, pouring
itself some wine, or something, and we decided to have a
go at the creature again. Located under the living room
love seat and lovingly encouraged by Joan with a long
stick to go toward the front door that I had opened, the
cat jumped through the old, misaligned, vertical shades on
the front picture window sill. Aha, got it! NOT! I quickly
opened the shades with a pull of the chain, shooed the
frightened feline off the sill and toward the open front
door that it flew by at, I’d estimate, a good 40 mph
straight through our now-open, bedroom door. Finally
trapped! NOT! It hunkered down in the farthest corner
under the spare single bed in our room and refused to
budge, occasionally meowing curse words at Joan who was
still on her hands and knees gently nudging the poor
thing. I, of course, was standing guard with two pillows
in the living room, waiting for the creature to rapidly
emerge from the bedroom. No, I wasn’t going to offer it a
more comfortable surface to nap; I was going to try to
gently steer the flying cat toward that open front door.
Joan ran out of gas before the
cat did and we decided to close the door and let the cat
have a private bedroom while we discussed the issue in the
living room. We decided to wait until a more respectable
9:00 a.m., then go and request that the neighbors come get
their cat. That’s what happened. Stacey, our neighbor,
said that she hadn’t seen “Normal,” the young cat, since
early yesterday and that’s probably who the trespassing
creature was. Stacey got on her hands and knees and coaxed
“Normal” who had migrated under our bed into her arms.
Another successful adventure concluded, I even petted the
poor feline as it finally headed in Stacey’s arms out the
open front door.
Looking forward to a better
night’s sleep tonight. Adios!
03/05/21 - St. Petersburg, FL:
Oops, I got carried away living
life in the sun and forgot all about keeping you advised
about my activities. I hope you’ll forgive me if, indeed,
you’re still reading at all.
Activities have actually been
reduced in the last week or so to my daily walk in the
morning, now reaching two miles on most days, and
afternoon odysseys to nearby scenic points of interest
after Joan is up and rolling. Sometimes these trips extend
into the evening and we barely make it back “home” before
darkness overcomes us. A recent trip took us to
Spanish-American-War-era Fort Desoto on a point protruding
into the mouth of Tampa Bay and now a huge Pinellas County
park with people beaches, dog beaches, camp grounds, and
two humongous fishing piers that jut a long distance into
the bay, busy with fishermen even as we approached sunset.
It is to this dog beach where Gary takes Kacey, his
labradoodle, to endlessly retrieve balls thrown into the
water. It certainly must be the lab part of this
wonderfully-trained canine that loves the water so much.
Another afternoon-into-evening
trip took us, in response to a Facebook advertisement, to
Safety Harbor, a small town on the bay next to Clearwater.
One Main Street full of restaurants, bars, gift and
antique shops and a few, beautiful neighborhoods that Joan
and I quickly decided would make a great place to which to
retire, if we ever reach retirement age. It helped that
the elderly lady (our age) out on an exercise walk warmly
responded to my query, “Can you tell me how to get to
Florida from here?” She immediately inquired about where
we were from and, when she heard PA, she quickly said,
“Oh, you just have to move here! The southern lifestyle is
just amazing!” It was obvious that her endorsement of her
new hometown was enthusiastically sincere and Joan and I
soon agreed with her assessment. Now, if we can only win
the lottery!
Upon hearing that Spring Break
was here and that beach towns have changed regulations to
attempt to force college-age, immortal Breakers to be more
compliant with the pandemic protocol of masks and social
distancing, we cruised the beaches of Clearwater, St. Pete
(the new #1 beach in the country), Pas A Grille, Treasure
Island, and Indian Rocks, to see how many Breakers are in
the area and just how compliant they are. The beaches were
crowded, but seemed to be more socially distanced than in
previous trips through the popular, white, scenic beaches.
Walking young folks seemed less compliant with the masks
as did the cars full of young folks celebrating their free
time. It is always impressive to view the quality of these
recreation areas and how fully they are used.
I have hit a bucket of golf balls
a few times, the last time not very well, but have still
not played a round of golf; I’m apprehensive of playing
with strangers whose compliance with pandemic protocol is
unknown. I have scheduled a visit in a couple weeks with a
college buddy, the catcher of my offerings in my prime as
a baseball pitcher, to the orange grove area of central
Florida. I am really looking forward to that reunion and
feel it safe to make the trip since we have all had the
first Covid shot and both Joan and I will have gotten our
second shots by the time we hit the orange groves where my
buddy and his wife have a winter home. We may even hit the
links for nine holes while there since he is recovering
from back surgery and is probably unable to play the full
18.
I have also scheduled a fishing
trip with a local guide next Sunday to ply the waters of
Tampa Bay. My son and I are eager to learn about areas to
fish, equipment and bait or lures to use, and generally to
pick up the tricks of the trade from a local expert. There
are many fish common to these waters that I have never
caught - snook, red fish, snapper, and cobia, for
instance. Who knows what will be in season in these
waters, but we are excited to learn.
My son’s pool installation, dock
and boat lift construction, Florida room renovation, and
lanai construction is right on schedule. The dock and boat
lift are installed, but missing a boat that may or may not
arrive on a trailer behind the truck of my brother who is
rumored to be transferring ownership of his boat to his
nephew. The pool decking and pool filling are awaiting the
completion of the outside work of the Florida room and
lanai construction before its installation and
implementation. I’m guessing that all work will be
complete by the time the summer heat hits the area and
there is still an outside chance that we will see the
final product before heading north at the beginning of
April. There are still many things to see and adventures
to experience before our trek back to the tundra. Hasta
luego!
03/15/21 - St. Petersburg, FL:
It has been 10 days since I last
updated and, for those few of you still following my
winter antics, you may have wondered “whazzup?” Several
things have interfered with writing during those 10 days,
including a second Covid shot for me and another for Joan,
each followed by a day of side-effect fevers, body aches,
and, for Joan, sporadic headaches. My problem after the
Pfizer injection only lasted about six hours, whereupon I
was able to renew my normal activities. Joan’s Moderna
reaction is lasting a little longer, but she seems to be
in the final stages of recovery as I write.
On the day of her second shot,
Joan and I headed to Plant City, location of the famous,
annual, Strawberry Festival and the nearby Publix grocery
store where her second shot was scheduled. Ten dollars
each to enter the Festival, another ten to park nearby,
thirty dollars we needn’t have spent, because it was like
every state or county fair you have ever visited,
differing only with the one, single stand we could find
(with a very long line) that sold strawberry shortcake
($4.50). This was a huge fair with Ferris wheel, roller
coaster, Midway, music amphitheater, and stands selling
every ready-to-eat food known to man, almost every one
devoid of a strawberry special. For lunch, we settled on a
stand where we could sit and try to enjoy the worst
cheesesteak of our lives. After that, we searched for an
ice cream stand to try to enjoy some strawberry ice cream,
but were only able to locate soft ice cream offerings. We
ended up leaving after only about an hour’s stay, swearing
never to return. There were plenty of strawberry farms
evident as we approached Plant City, but almost all had
harvested their crops and planted new plants. We even
unsuccessfully searched for ice cream on the way home, but
were defeated in our search to savor the flavor of the
season.
While Joan was battling her side
effects, son Gary and I headed across the bay yesterday to
board the boat of Capt. George Jonah for a half-day
fishing excursion. As unsuccessful as the Strawberry
Festival was, the fishing trip was just as rip-roaringly
successful! Gary hooked the first fish on the first cast
of the day off the beautiful Key West boat with flying
bridge, a big, gorgeous Spanish mackeral! Who knew that
Spanish mackeral get that big, strike that hard, and fight
so fiercely? Not I! These were to be the first of that
species that I have ever encountered. Somehow, I thought
they were small things that were pickled like herring and
were too oily to eat otherwise. Not! We caught more than
30 fish on the half-day trip, mostly Spanish mackeral and
large sea trout, but also brought in at least one specimen
of Ladyfish, bonnet shark, and leopard fish. We spotted
numerous BIG snook, but were unable to get them to hit our
offerings and also spotted a small pod of dolphins,
including two juveniles, one manatee that swam within 10
yards of our boat, and numerous sea birds of many species.
The captain cleaned our keepers,
feeding the offal to the huge flock of pelicans fighting
for the remains at the cleaning table. We only kept four,
large mackeral, because sea trout are out of season and we
simply needed no more fish. Captain Jonah filleted the
mackeral which produced a couple pounds of filets that
Gary took home. His mother is not a fish eater, with rare
tuna a notable exception, but her side effects kept her
from even sampling the delicious filets that Gary
sautéed after coating them with light flour and
seasoning. If anybody offers you Spanish mackerel filets,
I highly recommend you accept. They were delicious. The
captain cautioned us that mackeral doesn’t freeze well, so
we should eat them fresh. Did I say that they were
delicious?
Tomorrow, we expect to head
inland to the Lake Wales area of Central Florida in orange
grove country to visit my college baseball buddy and his
wife. They own a double-wide home in a manufactured home
community and insist that we look at some homes there that
are very inexpensive and the community has made a
wonderful winter retreat for them. Who knows, I could
become a Floridian and a landowner. Ciao!
03/26/21 - St. Petersburg, FL:
Apparently, I understand writers’
block pretty well, because it has been another 11 days
since my last update. Many times during those days I tried
to convince myself to sit down and “git ‘er done,’’ but
never had the “get up and go” to “git ‘er accomplished!”
Plenty has occurred since I last updated and there is a
lot about which to write, but streaming Phillies spring
training games, a visit with my college buddy in central
Florida, and a short drive-through by the phantom of
Orlando, SCHIM and MJ, his significant other, seemed to
always get in the way or provide a good excuse not to set
fingers on keyboards.
I can procrastinate no longer! We
spent three wonderful days and two nights visiting the
catcher of my college pitches, Tuffy, and his wife, Sandy,
in central Florida. The days were full of reminiscences
and tall tales of years gone by. Times spent with married
college couples in games of Charades, played because we
had no money for any other form of entertainment.
Reminiscing about vacationing together in Mt. Greta, PA,
with young children and wives very pregnant again. All of
these past experiences while the husbands studied for
college courses, worked summer jobs, and played and
thought mostly about baseball. We did not lack for
conversation during our visit!
We went out to dinner one night,
about a 30-minute drive away, on the shore of one of the
many, many fresh-water lakes of central Florida, and
passed through acres and acres of orange groves whose
trees bore enough ripe oranges to fill Lake Michigan with
juice. There were also humongous, ripe, strawberry farms
where the sweetest strawberries we ever tasted were on
sale for $3.00/gallon, if you picked them yourself, and
$6.00/ gal., if you bought the buckets they picked. That
was a no-brainer, although Tuffy and Sandy insisted that
with the higher strawberry bushes here it would only take
10 minutes to pick a gallon.
We also got in nine holes of golf
one day, with three of us playing and Joan driving my
cart, keeping score and taking photos of the beautiful
surroundings. We only played nine because Tuffy is
recovering from back surgery and he is still struggling
with what may be permanent pain. He is even considering
giving up the game which would be a real tragedy. OK, I
shot a blazing 54, finishing strongly with a nine and an
eight on the final, two, par four, holes. Let’s hope there
will be better days ahead!
We headed home on a beautiful
drive through central Florida and many more orange groves
for a quiet weekend at home before Schim and MJ’s
announced arrival in our neighborhood. Those who have read
my past blogs knew that, somehow, Schim would show up and
he certainly did. We enjoyed a great day of touring St.
Petersburg like Schim has never before seen it with two
tour guides who have lived like natives here for three
months. We enjoyed dinner together in quiet Gulfport,
another area neither Schim nor MJ had previously visited.
We bid them adieu after dinner, expecting to see them the
following day, only to learn that they were touring other
nearby places that we had recommended. We never saw them
again - could it have been something I said? We have since
communicated electronically, so we may still be on
speaking terms.
We have been keeping track of the
steady progress of our son’s construction project, hoping
that we would see the final work completed before we left
town. Unfortunately, though his project is winding down,
the masons who will lay the final decking around the pool
and “fill ‘er up” will not be able to get the project
finished until two weeks after our departure. We may have
to make another trip to get a final view, but there are
always photos.
The days of this winter’s hiatus
are winding down - there are only four more nights of
sleep in Florida - and it will soon be time to turn to the
North and put the “pedal to the metal!” It has has been a
different kind of winter adventure for me, having Joan
along to enjoy the weather and the surroundings, but it
has been very enjoyable and far less lonely than previous
trips. There has also been far less Spanish language
utilized and I missed that. Who knows? Perhaps, there is
one more winter adventure left in these bones.
I do not plan to update again,
unless on the meandering trip North something memorable
and worth sharing occurs. It’s possible I guess, since
we’re plotting a route through the Blue Ridge Parkway and
Skyline Drive to get back to PA. So stay alert. I will
also add the final photos of the trip.
If you stayed with me all winter,
thanks for the additional company. I hope my scribblings
helped you endure what seemed to be a cold and snowy
winter. Adios!
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