Yeah, I'm homesick. I just completed a trip to Minneapolis with my wife. All her family lives there. I Also was up in New England in July with my family as well.
What is homesickness? I've got that feeling in my gut that tells me I yearn for home, whether it be my in-laws or my own family. A feeling of love & commitment that makes a person lonesome for the folks at "home."
We've been fortunate to visit our homes every one or two years. It had been two years for New England & one for Minneapolis. The time just flies by - it's never enough when you're visiting. The question of moving back home seems to come up - but which location would we choose? We tell people that our home is in the south now, but one never knows what end of life choices will bring.
Living in Pensacola, Florida Has been a wonderful choice for us the last 16 years. During that time we've had a chance to travel around the entire United States, but never found a better venue for what we need & want from our home.
Also, the issue that would have driven our decision is no longer with us. My parents have been gone for many years now, but my wife's folks have passed away recently. There is a bit of regret that we didn't move to Minneapolis sooner, but we had important retirement considerations that kept us here.
Also, it is nice to get family & friends to visit us where we live - a chance to share some Southern hospitality.
The homesickness will last a day or two & I've experienced it before. Living a lifetime away from those you love brings a case of it on now & then. As I age I get more sentimental, & I sometimes lament that it's only life's big events that bring us together - weddings & funerals among those.
So, my illness today will be brief & happy - I look forward to my next case!
Monday, August 30, 2010
Sunday, July 25, 2010
Old Friends in the South
My wife & I have friends from our Navy days that live in Norfolk, VA, Jacksonville, FL, Birmingham, AL, Shreveport, LA & Dallas, Texas. We stay in touch with each other, & try to visit together as frequently as possible.
Not including our families who live "up North," we have established more connections in the generation of time we've been in the South, both new & old, than we ever had done before. In a recent blog post entitled "Native Transplant," I mentioned that I had put down roots in the South that had become well nourished. I also said that home for us now is in the Deep South.
The connections with old & new friends alike make a place become a home with all the warmth & closeness that leaves one comfortable & well satisfied.
Meeting in Tallahassee with our friends from Jacksonville, we stayed at a bed & breakfast in the quaint town of Thomasville, Georgia. Sharing these moments with them as we talked & toured the town heightened our experience of seeing new places, & deepened our bonds with people & place. In addition, they have come to Pensacola, Florida to be with us, & we with them at their home.
It's a full days drive to Dallas from Pensacola, & we have been up there several times over the years, but our friends there generally come our way on an annual basis mainly because they have family living close by in Alabama. These visits are always welcome because we hear about their extended family, all of whom are good friends as well. These folks were northerners too, coming from Wisconsin & Ohio respectively.
Our friend in Shreveport, a retired Public Affairs Officer, has lived in a number of places around the country, but decided to settle in her girlhood home to be close to her family. My wife & I feel that this is important, but unfortunately for us, it is not possible. We know Shreveport well. The city has grown & now boasts a vibrant river front.
Norfolk & Virginia Beach are among our favorite places, & we considered relocating there in our retirement years. We met our friends who live there almost forty years ago when we were stationed together at Pearl Harbor. Also originally from Louisiana, they decided that the Norfolk area provided everything they needed to be active & comfortable. We've had the chance to visit with them several times over the years in Virginia Beach.
Visiting for us makes those important connections that really says you care about the people in your life. This gesture deepens the bond & adds an important depth to the relationship. There's nothing like quality face time!
Also from our time in Hawaii are our friends in Birmingham, & although we have seen them since that time, we regret that we haven't visited them at their home. Birmingham is a lovely city & an easy day's drive from Pensacola. We mean to take a few days to explore Northern Alabama, as well as having an overdue reunion.
Time is always of the essence, & making plans to include good friends in our travels enriches the experience even more.
I feel a wonderful sense of connection with the South, & for the most part this is due to the folks that we know & love.
Not including our families who live "up North," we have established more connections in the generation of time we've been in the South, both new & old, than we ever had done before. In a recent blog post entitled "Native Transplant," I mentioned that I had put down roots in the South that had become well nourished. I also said that home for us now is in the Deep South.
The connections with old & new friends alike make a place become a home with all the warmth & closeness that leaves one comfortable & well satisfied.
Meeting in Tallahassee with our friends from Jacksonville, we stayed at a bed & breakfast in the quaint town of Thomasville, Georgia. Sharing these moments with them as we talked & toured the town heightened our experience of seeing new places, & deepened our bonds with people & place. In addition, they have come to Pensacola, Florida to be with us, & we with them at their home.
It's a full days drive to Dallas from Pensacola, & we have been up there several times over the years, but our friends there generally come our way on an annual basis mainly because they have family living close by in Alabama. These visits are always welcome because we hear about their extended family, all of whom are good friends as well. These folks were northerners too, coming from Wisconsin & Ohio respectively.
Our friend in Shreveport, a retired Public Affairs Officer, has lived in a number of places around the country, but decided to settle in her girlhood home to be close to her family. My wife & I feel that this is important, but unfortunately for us, it is not possible. We know Shreveport well. The city has grown & now boasts a vibrant river front.
Norfolk & Virginia Beach are among our favorite places, & we considered relocating there in our retirement years. We met our friends who live there almost forty years ago when we were stationed together at Pearl Harbor. Also originally from Louisiana, they decided that the Norfolk area provided everything they needed to be active & comfortable. We've had the chance to visit with them several times over the years in Virginia Beach.
Visiting for us makes those important connections that really says you care about the people in your life. This gesture deepens the bond & adds an important depth to the relationship. There's nothing like quality face time!
Also from our time in Hawaii are our friends in Birmingham, & although we have seen them since that time, we regret that we haven't visited them at their home. Birmingham is a lovely city & an easy day's drive from Pensacola. We mean to take a few days to explore Northern Alabama, as well as having an overdue reunion.
Time is always of the essence, & making plans to include good friends in our travels enriches the experience even more.
I feel a wonderful sense of connection with the South, & for the most part this is due to the folks that we know & love.
Friday, July 23, 2010
Bonnie
In a recent blog post entitled "Storm in the Gulf" I discussed the impact of hurricanes in general, & threat of, as of then, the unnamed system known now as Bonnie, to not only the coast, but, specifically, its effect on the Gulf oil disaster. I concluded that the combined environmental & ecological implications could be catastrophic & unprecedented.
As of 1PM CDT, July 23, 2010(http://www.nhc.noaa.gov/) Tropical Storm Bonnie was headed for the center of the oil catastrophe, & will make land fall in Louisiana late Saturday night, July, 24th, or early Sunday. Hopefully, as a tropical storm, the impact will be minimal, but these conditions have not coincided in the Gulf before.
This unfortunate scenario has been a topic of conversation & scientific discussion since the Deepwater Horizon Well exploded, sank & ruptured on April 20th.
No predictions of the impending oil & wind collision's result can be made by me, however I feel as most people probably do, that it cannot help the situation. Even if the storm were to miraculously disappear, the lost time in clean up operations could be costly, & as it is, the storm, at the very least, will disrupt those efforts even more.
A wait & see attitude is in place on my home front, I only hope that BP & the Federal & State Governments are working feverishly on plan A. Plans B & C might be too little too late, & BP hasn't shown yet that it has an "A" game.
As of 1PM CDT, July 23, 2010(http://www.nhc.noaa.gov/) Tropical Storm Bonnie was headed for the center of the oil catastrophe, & will make land fall in Louisiana late Saturday night, July, 24th, or early Sunday. Hopefully, as a tropical storm, the impact will be minimal, but these conditions have not coincided in the Gulf before.
This unfortunate scenario has been a topic of conversation & scientific discussion since the Deepwater Horizon Well exploded, sank & ruptured on April 20th.
No predictions of the impending oil & wind collision's result can be made by me, however I feel as most people probably do, that it cannot help the situation. Even if the storm were to miraculously disappear, the lost time in clean up operations could be costly, & as it is, the storm, at the very least, will disrupt those efforts even more.
A wait & see attitude is in place on my home front, I only hope that BP & the Federal & State Governments are working feverishly on plan A. Plans B & C might be too little too late, & BP hasn't shown yet that it has an "A" game.
Yankee Go Home
In 1964 at the age of 15, me, the three other kids & our parents piled into the family sedan & traveled from Boston to Florida. Our first night was spent in Union, New Jersey, & by noon the next day we stopped for lunch deep in Virginia. As we walked to the restaurant my mother saw a small white sign on the door that read, "WHITES ONLY." She gathered us about her like ducklings, turned us around & returned to the car.
This was my first "in your face" encounter with segregation & it felt uncomfortable.
The perception of the South as viewed from north of the Mason-Dixon Line is probably skewed a bit from what you might find from a vantage point to it's south, an understatement when you consider that the American Civil War pitted "Yankees" from the North against "Rebels" from the South.
Although the Line is not historically imaginary, it came to signify a contiguous border separating Slave States from so called Free States in this country from before The Revolution until Emancipation in 1862. The term "Yankee" was originally applied to settlers in New England, then northerners in general, & finally all Americans when viewed from abroad, at times affectionately & at other times with hostility. The Mason-Dixon Line now defines the region known as Dixie.
Growing up in New England during the 1950's & 60's, by the time I was an adolescent & teenager, I perceived the South as a hostile land. I knew, as a Yankee, that I was not welcomed there. This was my perception, wrong as it might have been. I also knew that Black folks lived apart from Whites in a segregated society.
Now, after living in the South for over 25 years, my perception has changed dramatically to say the least. I view the region south of the Mason-Dixon Line as open, honest & friendly. I must admit that I have met White folks, & have been friends with some, that need an attitude adjustment, particularly in race relations.
I do return to Yankeeland as often as I can, & just spent the first two weeks of this month in New England visiting with my siblings in Massachusetts, New Hampshire & Maine. The weather was grand & I had a wonderful time eating, drinking & sightseeing along the rocky Maine coast, Hampton Beach, New Hampshire & pool side in Georgetowm, Massachusetts!
So every couple of years or so, I say to myself, "Yankee go Home!" Unlike my feelings towards the South, I wax nostalgic when pondering my home land. In time my feelings for this adoptive country of mine will deepen, but the memories of my childhood have created a lasting bond elsewhere.
In the future when I hear the expression, "y'all come down now, ya hear?" my heart may heed the call. I will have arrived.
This was my first "in your face" encounter with segregation & it felt uncomfortable.
The perception of the South as viewed from north of the Mason-Dixon Line is probably skewed a bit from what you might find from a vantage point to it's south, an understatement when you consider that the American Civil War pitted "Yankees" from the North against "Rebels" from the South.
Although the Line is not historically imaginary, it came to signify a contiguous border separating Slave States from so called Free States in this country from before The Revolution until Emancipation in 1862. The term "Yankee" was originally applied to settlers in New England, then northerners in general, & finally all Americans when viewed from abroad, at times affectionately & at other times with hostility. The Mason-Dixon Line now defines the region known as Dixie.
Growing up in New England during the 1950's & 60's, by the time I was an adolescent & teenager, I perceived the South as a hostile land. I knew, as a Yankee, that I was not welcomed there. This was my perception, wrong as it might have been. I also knew that Black folks lived apart from Whites in a segregated society.
Now, after living in the South for over 25 years, my perception has changed dramatically to say the least. I view the region south of the Mason-Dixon Line as open, honest & friendly. I must admit that I have met White folks, & have been friends with some, that need an attitude adjustment, particularly in race relations.
I do return to Yankeeland as often as I can, & just spent the first two weeks of this month in New England visiting with my siblings in Massachusetts, New Hampshire & Maine. The weather was grand & I had a wonderful time eating, drinking & sightseeing along the rocky Maine coast, Hampton Beach, New Hampshire & pool side in Georgetowm, Massachusetts!
So every couple of years or so, I say to myself, "Yankee go Home!" Unlike my feelings towards the South, I wax nostalgic when pondering my home land. In time my feelings for this adoptive country of mine will deepen, but the memories of my childhood have created a lasting bond elsewhere.
In the future when I hear the expression, "y'all come down now, ya hear?" my heart may heed the call. I will have arrived.
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Storm in the Gulf
The news of a storm forming in or near the Gulf of Mexico is never good for folks who live on its coast. Every season, it seems, a hurricane hits somewhere on the Gulf Coast, now we have two more weather systems developing to contend with.
And contend we have. Since Hurricane Andrew hit Florida just south of Miami in 1992, sweeping across the peninsula & raging into the Gulf to make landfall again near Morgan City, Louisiana, we have had four category 3 or higher storms approach, make landfall & punish the Emerald Coast of Florida. Katrina, the monster hurricane that devastated New Orleans in the summer of 2005, threatened the entire region, giving Pensacola, Florida just a bit of clouds, wind & rain.
Unnamed as yet, the current systems, as of 7AM CDT 7/22/10, have a 70% & 50% chance respectively of developing into tropical cyclones(http://www.nhc.noaa.gov/).
Direct hits on any particular location along the Gulf Coast is, at best, a crap shoot, though tracking technology has improved tremendously even in the last five years. The last hurricanes to make land fall in Pensacola were Ivan in the fall of 2004 & Dennis the following summer. A double whammy, as both storms were a strong category 3.
Living 30 miles north of the Gulf, our home did not bear the brunt of either storm, however hurricane force winds in excess of 80 mph were recorded in our area for both. On our property five large trees were felled, roof shingles ripped off, the patio screened enclosure torn apart, but thankfully, because we are not prone to flooding, we had no water damage.
It's the howl of the wind that is most frightening. Windows & doors rattle, storm driven rain drums constantly on the panes of glass & the threat of accompanying tornados is ongoing.
Ongoing, as well, in the storms aftermath is the clean up. Months go by then years before the last vestiges of storm damage are removed or repaired & even then evidence of the storms lingers. Boats lie abandoned in the marshes to this day. Derelict commercial & residential properties remain fallow. Broken or leaning trees are visible. Two of our 50 foot high long leaf pines lean to the northwest at a 60 degree angle!
The sight of downed utility poles & power lines, fallen trees littering yards & streets alike, the distinctive whiz of chain saws filling the still air, electric company trucks & crews from around the region clogging the streets & huge piles of debris and mulch accumulating are etched into our memories.
In the mix this season is the recent Gulf oil disaster. What will a storm do with the oil? Right now clean up is halted. Boat crews have to scurry ashore, resuming their important work only when the sea is calm.
A hurricane is an environmental disaster in its own right as is the oil crisis. Put the two together & the combined impact would be unprecedented.
When & where will the next storm go? How serious will its impact be? How will the region survive, & at what expense?
As a society we must learn & live on, doing what we can to protect our precious wildlife resources & most important, muster the courage to build anew, better, stronger, safer & sustainable.
And contend we have. Since Hurricane Andrew hit Florida just south of Miami in 1992, sweeping across the peninsula & raging into the Gulf to make landfall again near Morgan City, Louisiana, we have had four category 3 or higher storms approach, make landfall & punish the Emerald Coast of Florida. Katrina, the monster hurricane that devastated New Orleans in the summer of 2005, threatened the entire region, giving Pensacola, Florida just a bit of clouds, wind & rain.
Unnamed as yet, the current systems, as of 7AM CDT 7/22/10, have a 70% & 50% chance respectively of developing into tropical cyclones(http://www.nhc.noaa.gov/).
Direct hits on any particular location along the Gulf Coast is, at best, a crap shoot, though tracking technology has improved tremendously even in the last five years. The last hurricanes to make land fall in Pensacola were Ivan in the fall of 2004 & Dennis the following summer. A double whammy, as both storms were a strong category 3.
Living 30 miles north of the Gulf, our home did not bear the brunt of either storm, however hurricane force winds in excess of 80 mph were recorded in our area for both. On our property five large trees were felled, roof shingles ripped off, the patio screened enclosure torn apart, but thankfully, because we are not prone to flooding, we had no water damage.
It's the howl of the wind that is most frightening. Windows & doors rattle, storm driven rain drums constantly on the panes of glass & the threat of accompanying tornados is ongoing.
Ongoing, as well, in the storms aftermath is the clean up. Months go by then years before the last vestiges of storm damage are removed or repaired & even then evidence of the storms lingers. Boats lie abandoned in the marshes to this day. Derelict commercial & residential properties remain fallow. Broken or leaning trees are visible. Two of our 50 foot high long leaf pines lean to the northwest at a 60 degree angle!
The sight of downed utility poles & power lines, fallen trees littering yards & streets alike, the distinctive whiz of chain saws filling the still air, electric company trucks & crews from around the region clogging the streets & huge piles of debris and mulch accumulating are etched into our memories.
In the mix this season is the recent Gulf oil disaster. What will a storm do with the oil? Right now clean up is halted. Boat crews have to scurry ashore, resuming their important work only when the sea is calm.
A hurricane is an environmental disaster in its own right as is the oil crisis. Put the two together & the combined impact would be unprecedented.
When & where will the next storm go? How serious will its impact be? How will the region survive, & at what expense?
As a society we must learn & live on, doing what we can to protect our precious wildlife resources & most important, muster the courage to build anew, better, stronger, safer & sustainable.
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Native Transplant
My "tour of duty" in the South began in Pensacola, Florida. Next stop was the exotic climes of Pearl Harbor, Hawaii, then San Diego, Dallas, New Orleans, Norfolk, Virginia, & finally, back to Pensacola, a period spanning 37 years. We are now ensconced in the Deep South. Welcome!
There's an expression in the military, "The best assignment is either where you're coming from or where you're going to, but never where you're at." Negative thinking doesn't work. Always make the best of life in the moment. Enjoy what you now have in hand.
Granted, I'm a lucky man. I've been fortunate in life & have a wonderful partner to share it with. The South is where we belong now. The term "native transplant" seems to fit.
There's an element of responsibility in being a rolling stone. We've now lived in our home here more than twice as long as any where else. We are geographically separated from our families, & it is incumbent upon us to stay in touch & visit as often as we can. Yes, we all live on a two way street, but I also try to live by the creed, "you meet people where they are, not where you want them to be."
This concept is essential when traveling or moving. If you are visiting a foreign speaking land, at the very least it is nice to know hello, please, thank you & goodbye in the native tongue.
Culture shock can be minimized by doing a bit of research, but in the end experience is key. That is probably why people like to keep going back to familiar places.
The culture of the South exists in a large geographic area sometimes referred to as "Dixie." Second only to the "West" in size by my reckoning, I would say that Dixie stands alone in regional cultural depth. By this I mean although there are a lot of differences, there is an abundance of warmth, openness & congeniality making it easy for the casual visitor and transplant like myself to acclimate. Y'all come down now, ya hear?
So where am I transplanted from, you might ask? I was born & grew up in New England, & forever in my heart I am a New Englander. My Yankee blood can be traced back eleven generations to the landing of the Mayflower in 1620, on Plymouth rock, Plymouth, Massachusetts. I have the credentials needed to join the Mayflower Society, but never have(what's the point I wonder?)
The South has Sons & Daughters of the Confederacy, & a rich heritage that predates Jamestown. Some say that the South is still fighting the War Between the States. To those folks I say put down your arms, embrace the past & present, & build the future together.
So now a "for real" Yankee is living in the Deep South, one who calls himself a native transplant. What does this mean to me? For one thing I am no longer on the cusp of the learning curve. I've settled in. I'm comfortable. For another, my roots, though not deep, have penetrated the topsoil & are well nourished.
The autumn of my life may well be upon me soon & I look forward to the gentle seasonal change of the South.
There's an expression in the military, "The best assignment is either where you're coming from or where you're going to, but never where you're at." Negative thinking doesn't work. Always make the best of life in the moment. Enjoy what you now have in hand.
Granted, I'm a lucky man. I've been fortunate in life & have a wonderful partner to share it with. The South is where we belong now. The term "native transplant" seems to fit.
There's an element of responsibility in being a rolling stone. We've now lived in our home here more than twice as long as any where else. We are geographically separated from our families, & it is incumbent upon us to stay in touch & visit as often as we can. Yes, we all live on a two way street, but I also try to live by the creed, "you meet people where they are, not where you want them to be."
This concept is essential when traveling or moving. If you are visiting a foreign speaking land, at the very least it is nice to know hello, please, thank you & goodbye in the native tongue.
Culture shock can be minimized by doing a bit of research, but in the end experience is key. That is probably why people like to keep going back to familiar places.
The culture of the South exists in a large geographic area sometimes referred to as "Dixie." Second only to the "West" in size by my reckoning, I would say that Dixie stands alone in regional cultural depth. By this I mean although there are a lot of differences, there is an abundance of warmth, openness & congeniality making it easy for the casual visitor and transplant like myself to acclimate. Y'all come down now, ya hear?
So where am I transplanted from, you might ask? I was born & grew up in New England, & forever in my heart I am a New Englander. My Yankee blood can be traced back eleven generations to the landing of the Mayflower in 1620, on Plymouth rock, Plymouth, Massachusetts. I have the credentials needed to join the Mayflower Society, but never have(what's the point I wonder?)
The South has Sons & Daughters of the Confederacy, & a rich heritage that predates Jamestown. Some say that the South is still fighting the War Between the States. To those folks I say put down your arms, embrace the past & present, & build the future together.
So now a "for real" Yankee is living in the Deep South, one who calls himself a native transplant. What does this mean to me? For one thing I am no longer on the cusp of the learning curve. I've settled in. I'm comfortable. For another, my roots, though not deep, have penetrated the topsoil & are well nourished.
The autumn of my life may well be upon me soon & I look forward to the gentle seasonal change of the South.
Prayer
The battle is still being fought. Known as the Bible Belt, the South is enveloped in a dogmatic atmosphere that hangs in the air like the humidity. Just yesterday, a friend said to me, "Religion takes otherwise independent, free spirited people & corrupts their being for power & control." Nothing new here. He added that organized, denominational religion is as Karl Marx coined, "The opium of the masses."
A delicate subject this, in any venue. The catalyst for our moment on the topic was just a common bumper sticker seen frequently in the Pensacola, Florida area that reads, "Pray for our schools, we are one nation under God." Prayer in public schools? In this country? Don't First Amendment guarantees protect us? The fight continues.
My good friend is a son of the South. He kids me about my Yankee heritage. Born & raised in New England, I'm a damn Yankee. The difference between a Yankee in the South & a damn Yankee is that a damn Yankee never went home. I own the moniker.
As a teenager learning about Darwin, evolution, the Scopes Monkey Trial & basic civil rights & liberties, I took it for granted that the issue of prayer in school was put to rest. Never once was a prayer uttered - the Pledge of Allegiance yes, prayer no. Not so in the South.
Recently in Pace, Florida, a small town just east of Pensacola, the principal of the Pace High School was under fire for supporting students who wanted to pray openly at school events. Not a moment of silence, not an inter-faith "blessing." Make no mistake about it, I'm talking about Christian prayer, damn me if I'm wrong.
Please don't get me wrong, either. My friend is involved with his family in church activities and scouting. For him, the social milieu provides an important link to the community, and even, perhaps, a bit of "spiritual" guidance. I, too, feel that churches are important this way.
Y'all should know that I was baptized as an infant in the Episcopal Church & raised in a traditional, Yankee conservative, republican home. Although I consider myself liberal minded, I am a firm supporter of States rights & individual freedoms. Community solidarity is important as long as it does not violate the spirit of the law, if not it's letter.
In 2009 the Pace High School principal and former school superintendent were named in an ACLU lawsuit on behalf of two students, & ordered to stop prayer. In August of that year the principal and athletic director faced criminal contempt charges for continuing prayer during school functions.
Also that year a bill was introduced in the State Legislature:
"The bill would prohibit school districts in the future from entering into an agreement "that infringes or waives the rights or freedoms afforded to instructional personnel, school staff, or students by the First Amendment to the United States Constitution.""-PNJ
In April, 2010 the Florida Senate OK'd the bill:
"With blistering criticism for civil libertarians and some harsh words about the "overreaching" religious climate in Northwest Florida schools, a Senate panel today overwhelmingly approved a watered-down school prayer bill."-PNJ
June, 2010 brought school graduations across the land. Reginald Dogan, editorial staff, Pensacola News Journal opined in his column titled, "God Don't Like Ugly":
"It’s too late for the class of 2010, but maybe Pace High School will listen now to reason and move its graduation to a safe, dry place away from the threat of the storms of nature, called an "act of God."
It's worthy of consideration. Maybe they ought to pray about it. But for God’s sake and the law of the court, do it at home, in a church or in a closet."-PNJ
And the fight goes on. I don't need to point out what my sister said to me this month, "Religion is the stuff of wars." Is that not what's happening in the world today? And leading the charge is the United States of America.
God bless us, & I do mean that seriously, for there is a power that penetrates every molecule, every atom of our being, every scrap of matter throughout the Universe, binding us together from the instant of the Big Bang(creation) until we get sucked into a Black Hole(eternity).
I am saved as we and all things are. We live together, it would be nice if we could really live together, "Give peace a chance."-J.L.
A delicate subject this, in any venue. The catalyst for our moment on the topic was just a common bumper sticker seen frequently in the Pensacola, Florida area that reads, "Pray for our schools, we are one nation under God." Prayer in public schools? In this country? Don't First Amendment guarantees protect us? The fight continues.
My good friend is a son of the South. He kids me about my Yankee heritage. Born & raised in New England, I'm a damn Yankee. The difference between a Yankee in the South & a damn Yankee is that a damn Yankee never went home. I own the moniker.
As a teenager learning about Darwin, evolution, the Scopes Monkey Trial & basic civil rights & liberties, I took it for granted that the issue of prayer in school was put to rest. Never once was a prayer uttered - the Pledge of Allegiance yes, prayer no. Not so in the South.
Recently in Pace, Florida, a small town just east of Pensacola, the principal of the Pace High School was under fire for supporting students who wanted to pray openly at school events. Not a moment of silence, not an inter-faith "blessing." Make no mistake about it, I'm talking about Christian prayer, damn me if I'm wrong.
Please don't get me wrong, either. My friend is involved with his family in church activities and scouting. For him, the social milieu provides an important link to the community, and even, perhaps, a bit of "spiritual" guidance. I, too, feel that churches are important this way.
Y'all should know that I was baptized as an infant in the Episcopal Church & raised in a traditional, Yankee conservative, republican home. Although I consider myself liberal minded, I am a firm supporter of States rights & individual freedoms. Community solidarity is important as long as it does not violate the spirit of the law, if not it's letter.
In 2009 the Pace High School principal and former school superintendent were named in an ACLU lawsuit on behalf of two students, & ordered to stop prayer. In August of that year the principal and athletic director faced criminal contempt charges for continuing prayer during school functions.
Also that year a bill was introduced in the State Legislature:
"The bill would prohibit school districts in the future from entering into an agreement "that infringes or waives the rights or freedoms afforded to instructional personnel, school staff, or students by the First Amendment to the United States Constitution.""-PNJ
In April, 2010 the Florida Senate OK'd the bill:
"With blistering criticism for civil libertarians and some harsh words about the "overreaching" religious climate in Northwest Florida schools, a Senate panel today overwhelmingly approved a watered-down school prayer bill."-PNJ
June, 2010 brought school graduations across the land. Reginald Dogan, editorial staff, Pensacola News Journal opined in his column titled, "God Don't Like Ugly":
"It’s too late for the class of 2010, but maybe Pace High School will listen now to reason and move its graduation to a safe, dry place away from the threat of the storms of nature, called an "act of God."
It's worthy of consideration. Maybe they ought to pray about it. But for God’s sake and the law of the court, do it at home, in a church or in a closet."-PNJ
And the fight goes on. I don't need to point out what my sister said to me this month, "Religion is the stuff of wars." Is that not what's happening in the world today? And leading the charge is the United States of America.
God bless us, & I do mean that seriously, for there is a power that penetrates every molecule, every atom of our being, every scrap of matter throughout the Universe, binding us together from the instant of the Big Bang(creation) until we get sucked into a Black Hole(eternity).
I am saved as we and all things are. We live together, it would be nice if we could really live together, "Give peace a chance."-J.L.
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Song of the South
As you approach Mulate's in Breaux Bridge, Louisiana you will hear zydeco music drift across the parking lot. As you pass into the restaurant the smell of steaming crawfish will greet your nose. Your eyes will watch while pounds of the succulent crustacean are piled in the center of the table on a paper bag. Feel the warmth with your fingers when you break the tail off & taste the spicy yet mild sweetness of this Cajun favorite. Breaux Bridge, east of Lafayette, is the crawfish capitol!
The song of the South impinges on all the senses. I've had the privilege & pleasure to travel throughout the Deep South, from Myrtle Beach, S.C. to Macon, GA, Tuscaloosa, AL, Yazoo City, MS, Alexandria, LA, Port Arthur, TX, places in between & back home to Pensacola, Florida. The notes of the song change as do the seasons, location & people, but the pervasive melody is as constant as a compass needle.
Indianola, Mississippi is to catfish as Breaux Bridge is to crawfish. Here the ponds are plentiful & the processing plants huge. Farm raised catfish is a staple of the South along with sweet tea.
In my travels from New Orleans to Morgan City, Louisiana, I would see folks fishing in the bayous & swamp lands, some with long cane poles, their bobbers laying still on the placid water in anticipation of a bite. The flesh of wild caught catfish, like many fresh water fish, tastes like the environs from which it came. There is a difference between seafood & what I call swamp food. Catfish & crawfish(never crawdads, sometimes "mud bugs") are in this category, along with alligators if eaten.
Pecan groves are plentiful in the South. Some groves are irrigated, others not. In dry years the trees benefit from the extra water. The nut heavy limbs bow under the weight & the yields are good. Last to leaf out in the spring & first to shed in the fall, the pecan is a bellwether for season's change in the South.
The piney woods of Northwest Florida & an abundance of Naval Live Oak trees, gave way to the building of wooden ships. The oak's gnarly limbs were perfect for framing a vessel, while the tall, straight long leaf pine was ideal for masts & spars. Thirty miles north of the Gulf of Mexico, we are now surrounded by pine trees - when the wind blows through them, a soft, low pitch whistle or whine is issued, a song of the weather's change perhaps.
Perhaps also, the Gulf Coast has a song of its own. Pensacola is very much a part of the Deep South, its palette of flavors determined by the sea as well as land. This port city dates back to 1559, our Nation's first European settlement.
Southern cooking best describes the region. Soul food is comfort food here. Grits, biscuits & gravy, greens, hush puppies, soft shell crab & New Orleans po boys are ubiquitous.
New Orleans, a food mecca known world wide, adds more than a few stanzas or verses to the song of the South: music is The Crescent City, The Big Easy. The Mississippi River is an historical conduit for music flowing upstream and down. Bourbon Street, often teeming with people, is considered the birthplace of jazz. Here the song is fine tuned from a cacophony of sights, sounds, smells, tastes & feelings into a flavorful medley.
I've listened to the song of the South for many years now, but I'm still learning the tune.
The song of the South impinges on all the senses. I've had the privilege & pleasure to travel throughout the Deep South, from Myrtle Beach, S.C. to Macon, GA, Tuscaloosa, AL, Yazoo City, MS, Alexandria, LA, Port Arthur, TX, places in between & back home to Pensacola, Florida. The notes of the song change as do the seasons, location & people, but the pervasive melody is as constant as a compass needle.
Indianola, Mississippi is to catfish as Breaux Bridge is to crawfish. Here the ponds are plentiful & the processing plants huge. Farm raised catfish is a staple of the South along with sweet tea.
In my travels from New Orleans to Morgan City, Louisiana, I would see folks fishing in the bayous & swamp lands, some with long cane poles, their bobbers laying still on the placid water in anticipation of a bite. The flesh of wild caught catfish, like many fresh water fish, tastes like the environs from which it came. There is a difference between seafood & what I call swamp food. Catfish & crawfish(never crawdads, sometimes "mud bugs") are in this category, along with alligators if eaten.
Pecan groves are plentiful in the South. Some groves are irrigated, others not. In dry years the trees benefit from the extra water. The nut heavy limbs bow under the weight & the yields are good. Last to leaf out in the spring & first to shed in the fall, the pecan is a bellwether for season's change in the South.
The piney woods of Northwest Florida & an abundance of Naval Live Oak trees, gave way to the building of wooden ships. The oak's gnarly limbs were perfect for framing a vessel, while the tall, straight long leaf pine was ideal for masts & spars. Thirty miles north of the Gulf of Mexico, we are now surrounded by pine trees - when the wind blows through them, a soft, low pitch whistle or whine is issued, a song of the weather's change perhaps.
Perhaps also, the Gulf Coast has a song of its own. Pensacola is very much a part of the Deep South, its palette of flavors determined by the sea as well as land. This port city dates back to 1559, our Nation's first European settlement.
Southern cooking best describes the region. Soul food is comfort food here. Grits, biscuits & gravy, greens, hush puppies, soft shell crab & New Orleans po boys are ubiquitous.
New Orleans, a food mecca known world wide, adds more than a few stanzas or verses to the song of the South: music is The Crescent City, The Big Easy. The Mississippi River is an historical conduit for music flowing upstream and down. Bourbon Street, often teeming with people, is considered the birthplace of jazz. Here the song is fine tuned from a cacophony of sights, sounds, smells, tastes & feelings into a flavorful medley.
I've listened to the song of the South for many years now, but I'm still learning the tune.
Searching For Oil
Since the modern discovery of oil in Pennsylvania in 1859, Americans have been searching for Black Gold west to Oklahoma & California, south to Texas & the Gulf of Mexico, & north to Alaska. At times elusive & the rock unyielding, vast reserves have been tapped to quench our thirst, making the U.S. one of the worlds largest producers.
Now the search continues along the Gulf Coast shores after thousands, millions, perhaps "billions" of barrels of crude have been "spilled" into Gulf waters. The near pristine beaches of Florida's Emerald Coast, over 100 miles of fine, sugar white sand & aquamarine water, stretching from Pensacola to Panama City, are now threatened by an ecological disaster that is wrecking havoc on the marine environment.
With hand tools, machines, hazmat suits, boots & gloves, an army of paid workers & volunteers are today's beachcombers searching for oil-searching where Florida residents never anticipated, expected or allowed it to defile our coast by rejecting offshore drilling. The pity & shame of the debacle has not yet sunk in. Having passed from the disbelief stage of grief into the anger stage, acceptance of this nightmare is more elusive than oil itself in the early years of exploration & production.
Now that the Deep Sea Horizon well has been capped & the oil flow staunched, at least for the while, the time to breathe easy is not now. This is especially true for BP executives, government officials & residents along the Gulf who's woes will linger into the future, along with our dependence on the substance that is both our salvation & our bane. Petrochemicals fuel the engine of civilization, driving us ever closer to the brink of human existence.
Perhaps I am wrong to discount the tenacity of human nature, but at the very least I would like this coastal crisis, this ecological disaster to be the defining wake up call & call to arms for opposition to offshore drilling.
Oil can be found all over the planet, and the search will continue throughout our lifetimes. For my part, I can only look ahead thirty years. If our legacy is one of social decline on a global scale, then I hope I can be forgiven for being short sighted. Alternative fuels & sources of power may be a viable solution in the future.
People along the Emerald Coast get baptized in its waters & wed on its sands. Families enjoy the sun, sand & surf, ashes are cast into the waves & livelihoods are bound to it.
Searching for oil, too, is a way of life - people are dependent on it. For this dilemma I have no answer. The search continues.
Now the search continues along the Gulf Coast shores after thousands, millions, perhaps "billions" of barrels of crude have been "spilled" into Gulf waters. The near pristine beaches of Florida's Emerald Coast, over 100 miles of fine, sugar white sand & aquamarine water, stretching from Pensacola to Panama City, are now threatened by an ecological disaster that is wrecking havoc on the marine environment.
With hand tools, machines, hazmat suits, boots & gloves, an army of paid workers & volunteers are today's beachcombers searching for oil-searching where Florida residents never anticipated, expected or allowed it to defile our coast by rejecting offshore drilling. The pity & shame of the debacle has not yet sunk in. Having passed from the disbelief stage of grief into the anger stage, acceptance of this nightmare is more elusive than oil itself in the early years of exploration & production.
Now that the Deep Sea Horizon well has been capped & the oil flow staunched, at least for the while, the time to breathe easy is not now. This is especially true for BP executives, government officials & residents along the Gulf who's woes will linger into the future, along with our dependence on the substance that is both our salvation & our bane. Petrochemicals fuel the engine of civilization, driving us ever closer to the brink of human existence.
Perhaps I am wrong to discount the tenacity of human nature, but at the very least I would like this coastal crisis, this ecological disaster to be the defining wake up call & call to arms for opposition to offshore drilling.
Oil can be found all over the planet, and the search will continue throughout our lifetimes. For my part, I can only look ahead thirty years. If our legacy is one of social decline on a global scale, then I hope I can be forgiven for being short sighted. Alternative fuels & sources of power may be a viable solution in the future.
People along the Emerald Coast get baptized in its waters & wed on its sands. Families enjoy the sun, sand & surf, ashes are cast into the waves & livelihoods are bound to it.
Searching for oil, too, is a way of life - people are dependent on it. For this dilemma I have no answer. The search continues.
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