Happy Birthday America!

Happy 244th Birthday to the United States of America!

With COVID-19 ravaging our nation, this July 4th is odd one, don’t you think? Celebrations are being trimmed back or cancelled all across the nation as we acknowledge this deadly killer. But even as the virus drives us into our homes and isolation, events have drawn us out to the streets, and national talking points have turned to America’s racist past …and present. Pandemics and transitions go hand-in-hand, according to the historians, and I believe I am one of many who hope that our transition from this pandemic will be a beneficial one. Continue reading “Happy Birthday America!”

On the Road – God Bless the U.S.A.

I am just shy of three weeks on the road, about halfway through the trip. It has been great fun.  I think everyone should leave the safety of their home cocoon and get out in the world.  Despite the rather spooky presence of nearly identical shopping malls in every fair–sized hamlet, you can still catch the regional flavors that make this land a wonderful smorgasbord of ideas, ambitions, and realities.  How have we ever managed to hold it together for all these years?  Will we manage to keep it together in this current time? Continue reading “On the Road – God Bless the U.S.A.”

On the Road – Day 4

One of my favorite TV series is “Saving Grace.” (It originally aired on TNT 2007-2010 and is now available on Netflix.)  Holly Hunter plays an Oklahoma City detective named Grace who is visited by Earl, a lovable angel.  Grace is a nice twist on the prostitute with a heart of gold.  She sleeps around, drinks too much, and is a wicked jokester but she’s also ethical and a good cop. Continue reading “On the Road – Day 4”

On the Road – Day 2

Tango by one of the many Union and Confederate cannons.

Today Tango and I crossed the states of Alabama and Mississippi, stopping in Vicksburg on the banks of the Mississippi River.

Vicksburg is notable for being the spot where the first Coca Cola was bottled in 1894. It was also the site of one of the critical battles of the American Civil War.  In 1863, from May 18th until July 4th, the Union forces laid siege on Vicksburg.  The armies totaled 110,000 men–more than twice the current population of Vicksburg.  Causalities were more than 37,000–a number that does not include the civilians of Vicksburg who were trapped along with the Confederate soldiers.

Vicksburg’s strategic place along the Mississippi made it a “must win” for the Union. Abraham Lincoln declared Vicksburg “the Key” to winning the Civil War.

Today the land on which the Yanks and the Rebels squared off against one another is preserved as a National Park.  With close to 150 years of recovery, the landscape no longer resembles the war-ravaged land of 1863.  Monuments grace the 1,800 acres and the Park Service clearly has its hands full keeping the grass trimmed back.  You can hardly believe there was ever the carnage and suffering that is depicted in the exhibits.

Why visit such a place, you might ask?  Why care about a war that is long gone and that many college students can’t even tell you who won (it was the Union)?  It has to do with perspective, I think.  There are many who feel these are the worst of times in the U.S.  But there was a time in this country when we set about to slaughter one another and did a darn good job of it. Estimates are that 620,000 people died in the Civil War, which was only four years long.  Do the math…155,000 a year, 12,917 a month!  Add to that the mammoth destruction of property in the South.  It was a horrific time….

Yet today soft green grasses of spring wave peacefully on the hillsides. The trees have that rich color of new growth and birds are everywhere collecting the makings of their springtime nests.  Butterflies flitter about and dozens of people, like me, stopped by to pay their respects to this hallowed ground.   Things may be a little tough right now but let us hope we never return to the horror that was the American Civil War.  ❖



We Need A Little Christmas

55069-christmas-spiritIn recent years I haven’t been very “big” on Christmas. The conflicted messages that emanate at this time of the year have become too much for this aging soul.  I recall being so fervent as a child, anticipating the birth of baby Jesus, marveling at the tale of the three wise men and, of course, anticipating Santa’s visit. Even in to middle age there was still a lot enjoyment centered around the holiday. But over-commercialization coupled with learning the truth about how our religious documents were not the contemporary reportage that we might have thought, have made this writer cynical about it all.  As the media focuses on the “new phenomena” of  “fake news” let’s not lose sight of the fact that religions have practiced fake news for years.

This year things seem especially grim.  Many are choosing to “drop out” because, honestly, it has become impossible to know what is real and what is not. On Facebook this morning I saw a Canadian journalist who claims that the U.S.A. is fabricating stories about Syria, that the “White Helmets” are not a humanitarian group but a well-funded paramilitary organization, and that we don’t have a clue as to what is happening in Aleppo because there are no reporters in the city.  She noted that one prominent source on conditions in Aleppo lives in Coventry, England!  She seemed incredibly well versed and was particularly articulate about the dreadful war in Syria but who is to say that she is reporting the truth?

Ironically it is this unsettled state of mind that turns many people to religion but it seems our various cultures have plenty of faith in various gods…we simply have no faith in each other.

And so I found myself humming, “We Need a Little Christmas,” from the musical “Mame.”  It’s a cheerful ditty and I hadn’t heard it in a while so, as is my wont, I was inspired to have a listen on Spotify.  I wonder if these lyrics resonate with any of you, dear readers?

For I’ve grown a little leaner,
Grown a little colder,
Grown a little sadder,
Grown a little older,
And I need a little angel
Sitting on my shoulder,
Need a little Christmas now.

Angels, alas, are in short supply but in the Christmas tradition I can send you a star, a Florida star.

A Florida Star

This photograph is one of our lovely Florida grasses with a crown of morning dew.  Nature always soothes me and brings things into perspective. And today that perspective is right in-line with Mame’s:

For we need a little music,
Need a little laughter,
Need a little singing
Ringing through the rafter,
And we need a little snappy
“Happy ever after,”

Need a little Christmas now.

In The Deep

Natalia Molchanova begins a deep dive.
Natalia Molchanova begins a deep dive.

Natalia Molchanova is dead. You can be forgiven if you have not heard of her. In this world of seven billion inhabitants there are people who accomplish great things that we never hear of or give witness to…until they are gone.

Ms. Molchanova was widely regarded as the world’s greatest free diver, perhaps in the history of the sport (at the time of her death on August 2nd she held 41 world records).

Free diving is a basic, no frills sport. All you need is a body of water and a diver. You hold your breath and dive as deeply as you possibly can. In Ms. Molchanova’s case it was very deep indeed. She was the first woman to ever pass the 100 meter depth. That is a little over the length of a football field, down into the sea and, of course, back to the surface again. Ms. Molchanova held the world record for holding her breath longer than anyone else – 9 minutes and 2 seconds!

These records are remarkable enough but are even more so when placed into the context of Ms. Molchanova’s life. She was originally a competitive swimmer but “retired” after giving birth to her son (who is also a free diver). She returned to training, and took up free diving, at the age of 40 and carved a spectacular career in the span of 13 years. At an age when most people begin to think about true retirement this remarkable woman found an outlet that not only satisfied her desire to compete but also, it seemed, gave her great spiritual reward.

“Free diving is not only sport, it’s a way to understand who we are,” Ms. Molchanova said in an interview last year. “When we go down, if we don’t think, we understand we are whole. We are one with world. When we think, we are separate. On surface, it is natural to think and we have many information inside. We need to reset sometimes. Free diving helps do that.”

In a world where we are constantly barraged by stimulus that forces an almost non-stop thinking, the prospect of “not thinking” is almost, well, unthinkable. And yet it seems to hold some key to finding an inner peace, ask any Zen master or Buddhist monk.  Or, perhaps, any child in the womb, waiting to be born, floating in their own sea, experiencing the oneness.

For Ms. Molchanova her moment of becoming one with the world is now eternal. Her body has not been found and her son has accepted that. “It seems she’ll stay in the sea,” he said. “I think she would like that.”  ❦


Learning to Love the Digital Newspaper

For whatever reasons I have resisted online newspapers. I am happy to use them for research purposes or to follow-up on a local story. But online newspapers have never brought me the same joy as the print edition. The same is true of the Kindle and e-books, although that change has been easier. There are times I greatly prefer the Kindle to the heft of a bound book that is 400 to 500 pages in length.

For many years we subscribed to The Washington Post and how I loved that paper. We lived in a second story apartment in Washington, D.C. and the paper arrived every morning via the mail slot at the foot of the stairs. I recall descending the stairs every morning and reading articles as I climbed the stairs back to our apartment. So much history was revealed in the little stairwell; presidents resigning, elections, wars and celebrations. Among my most vivid memories is the cold December morning when I opened the paper and saw the headline that John Lennon had been assassinated. I literally went weak in the knees and slumped against the wall.

There was always time to read The Post and if my schedule demanded an extra early start I would arise earlier to have at least enough time to read the critical front section. The rest could wait for the evening or during a lunch break.

After we returned to our home state of Florida in 1995 we subscribed to the local paper which was adequate but a far cry from The Post. Over time I became aware that the news coverage in this local newspaper had shifted from actual news to a rather solid drone about 1) the burgeoning real estate market, 2) the latest and greatest retail shops in town, or 3) the best way to invest your money. There was no longer any real news to speak of and I slipped into relying on the cable news networks for my national and international news. I discontinued the local paper in 2006, a decision I have never regretted.

With time the cable news networks became tedious and decidedly partisan so I looked around the web and found sites that could give me the commentary and insight I was looking for. Salon and Slate became a regular part of reading matter. Online websites at CNN, USA Today and Huffington Post provided additional detail of the “breaking news” stories. But I yearned for a newspaper, or perhaps I should say a news paper, that provided the same sense of discovery and education I had found in the print editions of old.

I am happy to report I recently found it in that venerable old tool, The New York Times.

Ironically I was never a fan of the printed Times. My major complaint was that it had “too much” news, and a lot of it was, naturally, local to New York. The type was too small and the stories too long. It was stunningly dense and difficult to navigate, which is ironic since all you really had to do was turn the page.

The online Times, however, is quite a joy. It is still dense, even more so in this age of hyperlinks. But the layout is superb and easy to navigate. The links almost always work. Videos are worked into the site, of course, but their placement is not an obstruction to getting where one wants to go, especially in the tablet format. The lead stories are appropriately placed and I have never seen a headline featuring the Kardashians. That alone is worth the cost of subscription.

The Times has a myriad of sections, many of which are very helpful. Your Day Ahead offers a concise summary of things that should be known allowing one to spend as much or as little time as is wished reading the main stories.

But the real fun comes as you begin to poke around in the various sections. One day, for example, I enjoyed a fascinating article from the Opinions Section entitled, “Fixes: In India Latrines Are Truly Lifesavers.” For anyone who has ever traveled to the Subcontinent (I went there in 2004 on a medical mission)  and wondered why that democracy has such appalling sanitation, this is a must read.

From that I jumped over to the Obituaries. I was intrigued by the headline “Alvin Dark, 92, Is Dead.” Such a name! “Alvin Dark!” Turns out he was a ballplayer with the Giants and led the team to three pennants. But I’m not much of a baseball fan so my mind and eye wandered to a nearby section entitled “From The Archives.” Here you can find a selection of obituaries of many notable individuals gleaned from the NYT archives. Among those I have enjoyed was the obit of Robert E. Lee, from the October 13, 1870 edition of The Times. You may have never thought about reading the obituary of General Lee, I know I never had, but once you begin it is hard to stop. In today’s lean writing style the sentence might have read, “General Lee dies of a stroke at age 63.” But here is the opening paragraph from 1870:

 Intelligence was received last evening of the death at Lexington, Va., Of Gen. Robert E. Lee, the most famous of the officers whose celebrity was gained in the service of the Southern Confederacy during the late terrible rebellion. A report was received some days ago that he had been smitten with paralysis, but this was denied, and though it was admitted that he was seriously ill, hopes of his speedy recovery seem to have been entertained by his friends. Within the last two or three days his symptoms had taken an unfavorable turn, and he expired at 91/2 o’clock yesterday morning of congestion of the brain, at the age of sixty-three years, eight months and twenty-three days.

The Times does not write scanty obits and the obituary of General Lee is so well-written that it becomes a dynamic history lesson. Here is a sample:

 In the Spring and Summer of 1864 that indomitable soldier gradually inclosed [sic] the City of Richmond as with a girdle of iron, which he drew closer and closer with irresistible energy and inexorable determination, repulsing the rebel forces whenever they ventured to make an attack, which they did several times with considerable vigor.

In that same day I also read the obituaries of Anne Sullivan Macy, companion to Helen Keller, and Indira Ghandi, assassinated prime minister of India. Your own tastes might trend more to The Learning Network or fashion or home design or opinion. Whatever your reading tastes might be you can probably find an edible delight in The Times. Try it. Learn to love a news paper again. ❧


Image #250 – Bravery

Image #250

Hello dear readers. I apologize for being “off the grid” for a while. My absence generated some concern owing to the fact that I was in the final leg of my epic seven-week tour of the U.S.A.  But fear not, Tango and I are well, safely arrived in North Carolina.

For those who are new to my blog here is a quick recap: I set out from Western North Carolina on April 24th. My goal was Portland, Oregon where I was scheduled to speak at a conference. I also stopped in Columbia, Missouri and addressed the Show Me Cannabis statewide conference.  I spent a week in Denver before heading to Portland. The it was nearly a week in Oregon before heading south to Trinidad, California where I stayed with friends for almost three weeks. It was great R&R. At the end of May I started back East, again via Denver. There is a lot happening in Denver and part of my trip was a “fact-finding” journey. For those interested in my life as a cannabis activist I invite you to visit my writing blog, Aliceolearyrandall.

In Denver I linked up with a friend and we traveled to South Dakota with a side trip to Wyoming. Then it was eastward again with a stop in Madison, Wisconsin and then back to Western NC.  It was 52 days and 7,866 miles of wonderful wandering. It will take some time to absorb it all.

Whenever I would tell someone that I was driving across country they would invariably respond, “Wow, you’re brave!”  It was a statement that constantly befuddled me. I was, after all, driving a very comfortable and safe van with all the modern conveniences. The majority of travel was on interstate highways which are well patrolled. The motels I stayed in were always hospitable and safe. I fail to understand where the bravery was in undertaking such a trip. There is, of course, always the unexpected which can happen at any place and any time. And I suppose I am a bit of a fatalist in thinking that when your time is up it really won’t matter where you are–recliner or interstate, you’re out of here.

But during my travel I was constantly reminded of the truly brave ones who made the journey I have just completed. The American pioneers, in their Conestoga wagons, really deserve every bit of praise that has ever been heaped upon them.  Today’s image was taken in Wyoming and shows the Overland Trail. Those wheel-ruts that extend into the distant horizon were made by the thousands of covered wagons that crossed the U.S.A. So many wagons passed along the trail that the ruts remain to this day. The wagons held men and women seeking better lives. They traveled at the unbelievable speed of 7 miles a day!  Of course they only had two horses pulling them. (Today’s cars have an average of 110 horsepower.)  The pioneers faced environmental hardships and attacks from animals and indians.  Those people were truly brave.

Our U.S.A. is so extraordinary and it is good to get out and experience  the diversity and wonder that makes this nation so great. While you are out there think about those brave pioneers who were seeking a better life and then compare that to some of the immigrants who are coming to the U.S.A. under the same harsh conditions that our ancestors encountered on the Overland Trail.  Bravery is a big part of what drives these individuals but there is something more. How awful their lives must be to surrender everything and set out into the desert looking for the promised land.  In the 1800s, at least, there was no one on the other end to send the pioneers back. ❧

Image #228 – Cataloging Life

Anyone who has ever traveled for an extended period or has a second home knows the anxiety of return. You’ve made all the preparations and you hope that all will be okay when you walk back through that door. But this is life and things happen…things beyond our control.

So it was that I set out on Thursday to return to my home on Fawn Hill in Franklin, North Carolina.  It had been seven weeks since I locked the door and headed south to Florida.  My good friend and neighbor had looked out for things but, still, there was some anxiety. At first things seemed okay. Everything was here, the utilities were working and, most fundamental, the structure was still standing. It wasn’t until the next day that I discovered my home had been invaded.

The invader was not human, mammal or insect.  It slipped into my home under the guise of commerce. It was … they were … catalogs!  OMG, there were stacks of them. Some were old familiar friends — L.L. Bean, Land’s End, Duluth Trading. But the majority, the hordes, were cheap, unfamiliar competitors with cute names like Soft Surroundings or Woman Within. The latter felt compelled to send me two identical catalogs with different covers. There was Viking Cruises with travel tours I will never be able to afford and Serengeti with cute, too cute, stuff I will NEVER need.  A dozen unwanted visitors in seven weeks time.  Here they are.

Seven weeks


I trashed them immediately. Like some unwanted insect that you grind under your heel I cast them into the recycle bin with disdain. I had never asked for them; I had never bought a thing at Maryland Square, Sahalie, Cabela’s or Footsmart (two catalogs!).  Why did they descend on me? Initially I blamed it on a gift received from a friend that was, undoubtedly, purchased from a catalog of this ilk.  Perhaps it was mail list companies that had been informed, courtesy of the U.S. Post Office, that Rita D. died years ago and Alice now lives in her place. The catalogs don’t care. If I’m not here they will happily be received by “Current Resident.”

What a scourge. I awoke in the night and actually found myself thinking about them!  OCD brought on by blind capitalism.  I realized, as the quiet mountain night surrounded me, that I was under attack. It wouldn’t stop with these twelve. They were hucksters and had already sold my name to others. Counter-attack was necessary. Like any invasion you MUST beat them back ASAP.

So this morning I tore off the back covers (one of which admonished me to “Please Recycle”!) and returned each one to the sender marked “Please remove me from your mailing list.”  Will it work?  Probably not at first. Catalogs are like roaches. Keep beating back. ❧

Image #222 – Ancient Oak/Ancient People



Tango and I came across this incredible, ancient oak tree while exploring at Myakka River State Park last week. The base of the trunk was enormous and I would estimate that it would take three people holding hands to encircle it.  Its gnarly, pock-marked bark put me in mind of my cousin Bunny and a song that John Prine wrote and was covered by numerous people, including Kris Kristoferson and Bette Midler. Called “Hello in There” the lyrics go:

You know, Old trees just get stronger/Old rivers grow wider every day

But old people just get lonesome/Waiting for someone to say

Hello in there/Hello.

That describes my cousin Bunny perfectly.  She will be 94 years-old tomorrow (March 26) and she has a form of dementia that is so hard, for her and us. She cannot retain any recent memory. She awakens and her mind is blank.  She wonders where she is but when you tell her she cannot retain it. Things loop around continuously.  I am very patient with her and have discovered that if you are patient enough (and she must be patient too) you can get some things to “stick.”  Once that process happens you can dig deeper and things begin to emerge. She seems to have memories of 2005-2007 but not much beyond that. The fall that injured her pelvis and led her to the ALF occurred in 2010.  So for 4 to 7 years she has been floating in the dream-like world wherein she frequently is driving and she awakens thinking she has just driven in from New England or “the boonies.”  I asked her what the “boonies” are and she said “the Florida forest.”  I wonder what images she is tapping into because she has been coming to Florida since the 1940s.

It is wondrous on many levels but on a basic human level it is very sad.  Two days ago she got into a loop of asking if she had asked these questions before.

“Yes,” I reply.

“Today?” she asks.

“Yes,” I reply.

“Several times?” she asks.

“Yes,” I reply.

“Well,” she drolly replies,  “that must be tiresome.”

I could only laugh … and hope the tears in my eyes don’t fall down my cheeks. ❧




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