It's the Little Things

Sometimes the easy, small things set the tone for a day -- and turn out not to be so small for the others affected. 

Sunday morning I volunteered at a horse event that required a dark start and a bit of a drive. Just as dawn was breaking, my headlights fell upon a mama possum who was carrying a passel of babies on her back as she was crossing the road. She was right in the middle of my traffic lane, headed for the shoulder, and because I was paying attention, it was no trouble to slow way down and let her finish her trek safely. 

I'm sure the guy behind me was puzzled (or something - ha!) about my nearly stopping for no apparent reason. Fortunately, he was paying attention, too, and came to an easy halt behind me. 

Mama Possum headed off into the bushes and I was so glad to do my part for her and her little family. I felt happy all day, and I'm still feeling it. A little thing for me, maybe, but huge for her and those cute babies. May they live long and always cross safely! 

And may I always remember that a little kindness can go a long way. 

       Source: Wikipedia

Starting the New Year Right

It's a little disorienting to have the new year arrive in the middle of the week, but I've made the best of it. 

The fireworks weren't too terribly loud, although they unexpectedly started at dusk, not at midnight. I coaxed Mr. Moo from his safe space (behind the washer) to a carrier and stowed him in the bathroom, so he could miss the worst of it. I had a DVD playing and the window shades drawn. If any of the cats seemed nervous, I deployed some Boom Treats (Temptations are the brand of choice, if you're interested), trying to give the noise a positive association. The Gang of Three (more on them later) were unphased; in fact, the first time I checked on them, they were sitting in the window, looking out to see what all the fuss was about. The Inside Guys seemed to think it was just another night, with extra treats. Miss Piecey disappeared to her safe space (location unknown) but was back bright and early for breakfast as usual. She's a resilient little girl.   

I'm so very lucky that my immediate neighbors don't go crazy with the pyrotechnics. Overall it wasn't such a bad night for me. Having it fall during the week may have helped.

(PSA: Others -- veterans and others with PTSD, wildlife, pets, and livestock -- suffer much more than I do from fireworks. There are also pollution and air quality to consider. Fireworks are imported from China -- who knows what is in them? I would prefer we didn't have them, or that they were replaced with drones or silent fireworks to satisfy our collective need for spectacle.)  

On New Year's Day, the barn where I ride has a tradition of a trail ride, lake swim, and potluck lunch. My Boy's other person did the riding and swimming, and I took photos and provided ground support from the chase vehicle. We had 14 horse-and-rider combinations and they all behaved very well, with only a small kerfuffle when we turned for home -- the horses definitely knew it! There was some prancing involved, but they quickly settled down again for the walk back.

Then we had a wonderful potluck lunch that included a baked potato bar, lucky black-eyed pea salad with a Greek twist, shrimp cocktail, meatballs, various chips, veggies, and dips, cookies, chocolate strawberries, and a hot apple cobbler. The weather was perfect and everyone's dogs got along and had a grand old time roughhousing. We know how to ride, we know how to eat, and we know how to socialize!   

Thursday it was back to my regular routine of work and a riding lesson. It was the first of the year for both, and the perfect way to set the tone for what's to come.  

Now that the holidays are behind me, I'm hoping I can do a bit of review for 2024 and make some plans for 2025. I'd like to do some traveling, be more effective at work, finish some projects around the house, and keep improving my riding and relationship with My Boy. I don't set concrete goals, but I do like to identify focus areas. It seems to help keep me out of the weeds and on the path. And that's where My Boy and I want to be!

My Boy says he would like to eat a lot more peppermints in 2025, so there's that, too.

Milestones

This week marks a significant birthday for me. I will achieve an age I never imagined I would be: 65. 

My last birthday was a strange one, because I became an age that my mother did not live past. Now I will be older than she ever was. I think she hated growing old, and that passage was made harder for both of us by my teenage flourishing at the same time she was navigating menopause. I don't know -- I'm just guessing. We never had the chance to discuss it, and maybe we never would have discussed it, even if she had lived longer. But being this age has given me new insight into her experience. 

Now I am looking into chronological territory inhabited by my dad (who lived to 76) and his mother (who lived to 93). Those are the milestones of my future, still in the far distance. 

A milestone birthday does make you think about things, though. 

My friends are retiring and I am so happy for them. I don't feel envious; I like my life as it is. (I wouldn't turn down that winning lottery ticket, but otherwise . . .  no changes needed.) I expect to keep working, partly because it's smarter financially and partly because I enjoy it. My job is high satisfaction and low stress, and I'm very happy to keep rolling along there, still good at what I do. 

Horseback riding continues to be a great joy. My schedule is flexible, the people are wonderful, and Riddle is a willing and generous partner who takes good care of me. I'm so glad I started again just a year ago. I will continue as long as I'm able, and I think continuing will help keep me able. 

I wish the Medicare salespeople would Quit! Calling! Me! as I am not signing up for anything. One of the benefits of working is keeping my employer-provided insurance. Medicare would not be cheaper or better. (I checked.)

I am changing my attitudes about things, though, well aware (in a cheerful way) that I have limited time left. 

Less time dedicated to "self-improvement" and more time at home in my skin. 

Less concern with what others think about me and more concern with what I think about me. 

Less volunteering to serve every need and more availability for what matters most. 

Less putting things off for "someday" and more commitment to enjoying things now. 

Right now, also: less salad and more cake!     

A Little Life Wisdom

Writing about Professor Hallock's book in my earlier post reminded me of the time he invited me to visit his class and speak to his English Majors about the post-college life of an English Major. Ah, what fun it was to be surrounded by others who love literature that much! 

One of the stories I told them was about my initial inclination to be a Business Major. I had a vague idea that a career in the world of business would provide the income so that I could pursue my reading hobby on my own time. Get money, then buy books. Not a bad plan, I'd say!

However, when I attended freshman orientation, they quickly divided us into different advisory groups based on our majors. The person who spoke to us Business Majors handed out a schedule of  the classes we'd be taking and proceeded to tell us, "During your first three semesters, you'll be taking all your required courses. In the second semester of your second year, you'll get an elective. We suggest you take Typing."

I put up my hand and asked, "Where is Literature on this schedule? Where is Humanities?"

She said, "You don't have time for that."

I stood up and handed the paper back to her. "I'm not a Business Major," I said, politely and decisively. And I walked out the door.

I landed among the Undecideds and stayed there a while before settling on English and International Studies (two degrees, since I loved college and had enough credits for both).

Through a twist of fate I wound up in the legal world, and I've never looked back, even while living in various places, going back to school a few times, and holding a variety of jobs. It's all been good.

The theme of my talk to the English Majors was: Don't Be Afraid to Zigzag. 

Thanks to my focus on literature and art, I've known how to live, not just how to make a living. There's always been plenty of money for books.

And I already knew how to type, anyway!

Things That Are Real

Life in the limbo of houselessness and boxes and corona virus has me rattling around feeling disorganized and unsatisfied. 

Perhaps this is the meaning of my dream the other night: a calm, clear turquoise ocean beckoned me out on a paddleboard. A manatee was swimming by and I decided that if I lay down on the board and just drifted, the water might bear me out where I could get a closer look. After floating for a while, my vision of the sun and sky were interrupted by the crest of a towering wave that was ready to crash down on me. I told myself, "It's okay, you can swim, you've been in big waves before, just take a really deep breath now" . . . . and then I woke up. 

Is it true we never dream of our own death? I'm thankful for that. 

There's a message there, though.

I also happened upon this quote from Anne Lamott:

     [M]y grandson’s 4th grade class had Condiment Day every Thursday. Ketsup: 

     You had to catch up on some assignments.  Mustard: There were things you 

     absolutely must do, things you couldn’t put off any longer. And relish: 

     something that you loved doing, something fun or silly, or any activity that 

     brought you pleasure.

The Universe is definitely trying to tell me something.

I've been too light on the relish lately. And if we work too much, and too hard, and don't have enough fun, even having fun is too much work.

I'd put too much time on the computer in there, somewhere, also. The virtual world is enticing and then another evening slips by and nothing has been accomplished but another night of brain anesthesia. The "To Do" list is still as long. The piles of paper are right where they were yesterday (where does all this paper come from?). The feeling of unease still lingers.  

Changing that pattern now involves doing more things that are real. Some things may involve the computer but they are fundamentally not virtual activities.

Put that book back on the shelf where it belongs.

Wrap up those packages and get them to the post office.

Answer those cards -- or admit defeat and throw them away.

Make room in the garden for the new growth that's starting to sprout. Last month's freeze has done its work but spring is coming soon. 

Take time to smell the orange blossoms -- the true scent of springtime in Florida.

Nothing's more real than spending time in the sunshine.  

Challenges Update

Not just reading challenges: life challenges need an update as well.  

The day after Christmas I had a house fire. Fortunately, I was home at the time. The fire department arrived promptly and the damage was confined to a relatively small area. The firemen did a fantastic job of not inundating the books with water but believe me, you never want to see them unspooling a fire hose through your front door!

Most of the house survived and appears normal, but the electricity and water are turned off and some pretty big repairs are needed. I am staying with Kayak Guy, who is great in a crisis. Three of 4 cats are with me and seem to be fine. Missy is still missing. She is a former feral and I suspect she has gone into full survival mode. There is no sign of her in the area, but I haven't given up hope of locating her.

All this to say, I am seeing your comments but it may be some time before I can blog the updates and details. I will try to do it this weekend, but I can't make any promises because the things that need my attention change from day to day. 

If you would like an extension to finish things up, please consider it granted. Let's say January 15th.

Let's also say good-bye to this crazy and tragic year and hello to better days in 2021. 

Please love the people and creatures and things you love fiercely and keep your priorities straight. You never know when things may change.  

Happy New Year, everyone!

Remembering

 

Photo credit: Jose Jimenez/Primera Hora/Getty Images

None of us will ever forget that morning. 

I had no personal connection to anyone directly involved, but the events of September 11, 2001, affected me deeply. 

I have written about it before and have no more to say about that day. But it saddens me that we are still losing many American lives every day because we're unable or unwilling to do what needs to be done to bring the Covid pandemic under control.   

My takeaway remains the same: 

Blessings upon those who act with courage and generosity when the times demand it. May we all be among them.

Truth in the Background

With a little extra time on my hands, I've done some extra web surfing. Way down the rabbit hole, I came upon a photo essay about dancers practicing at home. This picture in particular caught my eye and my mood:

Respect my existence or expect my resistance.

Photo credit: Franck Fife/AFP

Ten Lessons from Staying Home

1. Nature is everywhere. I am lucky to have a semi-wild backyard that shows me something new every day. We don't have to buy a bunch of special equipment and travel to an exotic location to have "a nature experience." All we have to do is walk outside and look.

2. Relieved of busyness, families spend time together: walking the dog, riding bikes, throwing a baseball, jogging. I've seen people I've never seen before, who live right down the street.

3. The unthinkable can happen. I'm no prepper, but my environmental background has exposed me to some serious ideas and challenges. Like the burden we place on Mother Earth by the things we take for granted. Like the golden veneer of consumption and prosperity that masks a system with serious and fundamental flaws. Like the truth of food insecurity. It wasn't too long ago I asked someone, "What would you do for food if there was no Publix?" (Publix is a major grocery store where I live.) My companion looked at me like I had two heads, clearly considering the question too wacky to deserve an answer. I was really asking, but I was over the line even voicing such a thought. Now that grocery stores are stressed by circumstances and shelves are empty of key items, that question isn't as wacky anymore, huh?

4. Next day delivery was awesome. I'm not sure when it will happen again. Things I've ordered are 2 or 3 weeks out right now.

5. We could have been doing some pretty great things all along. In the past week, I have taken a yoga class, "walked" along the High Line in New York City, heard some wonderful concerts, had long video calls with several dear friends, and joined a reading group with a famous author -- all from the comfort of my living room. I've also cooked and eaten all my meals at home, strolled the yard every evening, and gotten some long-standing chores accomplished. In some ways, I've been busier than ever. I've been having more fun, too. 

6. Leadership takes courage. Sometime it's lacking. And sometimes it appears in unlikely places, from unlikely people.

7. Loquats are delicious. I tried them once, long ago, and they were unripe and inedible. I didn't know that, but I never tried again. However, given the abundance on my backyard tree and some extra time on my hands, I gave it another go -- resulting in a fruit-in-hand epiphany and a successful cobbler. They are more seed than fruit, but well worth the trouble. I will not forget this.

8. Being science-deficient can be fatal, not only to yourself but to others. I have a few friends who still believe this is all a big hoax or an overreaction. They have continued with their normal lives, complaining that "Everything's closed!" They are not convinced by the medical community's concern that if we are unable to "flatten the curve" and spread out the impact of this virus, the care system will be overwhelmed. That means rationed care. That means hard decisions. That means denying life-saving help to the patients who are deemed less worthy of saving. This is a hard truth. Facing it requires a basic understanding of math, and critical thinking, and a willingness to rely on qualified experts when the water gets too deep. I have done enough research to be convinced that "Better sorry than safe" is not a good choice here. Those who lack the ability to form their own opinions, based on their own research, are risking lots of lives, not just their own.   

9. The cats do nothing all day. And they do it very well.

10. I like staying home. I just wish it wasn't for this reason.

Stay safe and be well, everyone! Love and light to you all.

Thankful

Photo: Vince Lamb

He who sits by the fire, thankless for the fire, is just as if he had no fire.

~ W.J. Cameron

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

Why Is That?

I spent a chunk of the weekend reorganizing the bookshelves. Between the random shelving of new arrivals and double-layered shelves, they were a mess. I couldn't find anything!

I looked for a book for a friend the other day and finally gave up because I simply could not find it. That's pitiful. (The same thing happened with my swim fins, mask and snorkel, but that's a different post. No snorkeling for me until I figure that out.) 

Mid-way through this re-organizing project, however, what's evolved are a bunch of stacks on the floor and the couch, grouped by subject. The shelves do look better, but the rest of the room has deteriorated, looking even worse than before.

That got me thinking: why do things seem to get worse before they get better? It's a proverb that it's always darkest before the dawn and all that, but seriously: why do things seem to continue to worsen after we intervene, before we turn things around? Why can't we just recognize a trend and stop it in its tracks?

Definitely food for thought while I'm moving the books around. 

I Have Seen My Future (I Hope)

One of the drawbacks of my new job is the commute. It's an hour's drive each way in rush hour traffic, which makes it seem very long.

Fortunately, there's the train! This makes the commute slightly longer -- I have to drive 15 minutes to the station -- but it's totally stress-free. The trains are very clean and not very crowded, plus I have a whole hour to play on the phone or read a book or basically, do whatever I want. I think I'm really going to like it.

Last week, though, I had one of those Oh No moments while walking from work to the station. The brick pavers were uneven in some places and I had on my work shoes, with more of a heel than I'm used to. So I tripped and fell, landing pretty hard on my knees and forearm. It was very embarrassing and a little bit upsetting, too.

No one was near me when I fell, although there were some people off in the distance. As I was gathering my wits and putting some things back in my purse, I noticed a group of young people approaching. From my almost-elder years, I can say they were typical 20-somethings: all shapes, all sizes, all colors/races/ethnicities, basically the kind of well-mixed group that was extremely uncommon during my years growing up in the South, where everyone in my circle was white. (Don't get me wrong: I consider it progress that things aren't so homogenized anymore.)

I could hear one of them say in the distance, "Whew, I've done that. Ouch." They came up to me and bent over with concern: "Are you all right?" And then a beautiful young woman with long dark hair extended her hand to me and asked, "Would you like me to help you up?"

I know it sounds weird, but I had one of those moments when time slows down. I looked up into her face, and despite my usual tendency to resist showing any sign of weakness whatsoever, I thought, "Yes, yes I would."

So I said that, and took her hand in my right hand. At the same time, I could see in my peripheral vision another hand to my left, which belonged to an impossibly tall and slender young black man -- who also had extended his hand me. I took their hands, and stood up, saying "Thank you, thank you so much, you are so kind" to each of them. And then they were gone.       

I realize now I was probably still a bit stunned. I also understand why people feel that they're helped by angels in far worse situations -- angels who seem to appear when needed and disappear when the task is done. It seemed like that to me. It was lovely.

What has stayed with me since then is the feeling that this is what aging will be like, if I'm lucky. I will need help and -- if my luck holds -- young, strong, kind strangers will be there to offer it. I realize those helpers will probably be paid to help me, modern life being what it is. I hope that when that time comes, I will remember this small episode and muster the grace to accept the help they offer, and to be grateful. 

A Little More About Naturalizing

Anthropocentrism: the belief that human beings are the most important entity in the universe; interpreting the world in terms of human values and experiences; viewing the natural world as having value only in its usefulness to or for humans. 

As I mentioned before, I had a little trouble with the fieldwork in my Master Naturalist class because I was very empathetic toward the creatures we were studying. For me, going out in the woods to look for things is fun. Catching them by their wings and/or putting them into specimen jars, even temporarily, is not.

Case in point: our guide caught some very tiny oak toads and was holding them while talking to us. I know he was being gentle, but they were perched on top of his hands and held by one hind leg. They seemed pretty comfortable -- they weren't struggling or anything -- although I imagine they were scared from all the pairs of eyes focused on them, when their main defense is camouflage.

Photo Credit: University of Florida

While explaining things, our guide was gesturing with his hands. I immediately wondered how it felt to the toads to be zooming around in the air like that. First capture, then a rollercoaster! I certainly wasn't learning anything while focused on what they might be feeling. 

To his credit, when I mentioned it, he immediately held his hands very still for the rest of the talk. I was relieved. I bet the toads were, too.

Photo Credit: Eric Shashoua

(This one is actually bigger than the ones we saw. They are often teeny tiny!)

After he put them down, I stood near them while the class walked away. Otherwise they might have been stepped on. Even among these students of nature, I don't think anyone else gave them much thought after he put them down. It was kind of, "Okay, we're through staring at you for our own reasons. What's next?"

It sure made me think about anthropocentrism.

I know it's just two little toads but still. Every life matters when I can do something about it.

No Contest

Much as I enjoy discharging my civic responsibilities, making a dark start to have a scrub jay sit on my head is way better than making a dark start to report for jury duty.

I Have Lived

Photo: Karen Chadwick

This picture was taken two years ago and it still amazes me.

Pictured is Cannon Springs, which is usually covered with Ocklawaha River water, raised behind a dam that no longer serves any purpose. (If you'd like to learn more about the plight of the Ocklawaha, there's a wonderful short film that tells its story, River Be Dammed.)

Ongoing work strives to create the political will needed to remove the dam, free the Ocklawaha, and allow Cannon Springs and others like it to resume their beauty.

For now, they wait.

And I'm reminded that my life has had its transcendent moments.

More of That Synchronicity Stuff

I just love it. Maybe I'm actually living in the flow and don't know it, because this also happened:

A woman came into the library's book store recently and was looking for books by a particular author. I'm not sure what she said, exactly, except she knew how to say his name correctly. You can make up your own beautiful sounds--it's far too complex for me to attempt in writing. It quite something to hear the properly pronounced and accented name: "Paulo Coelho."

I could see that my coworker wasn't getting it. I wasn't completely sure that I was getting it, either, but somehow I knew what I needed to do: I translated. "She means Paul-oh COLE-hoe," I said. Yes, that's exactly who she meant! We didn't have the book on hand, but she's on the waiting list now.

Later that same day, as I'm reading along in Ilustrado (a novel set in the Philippines, for goodness' sake), what do I read? One of the characters says she likes a local author, but that "He's no Paulo Coelho."

I mean really, what are the chances?

For the record, Paulo Coelho is a Brazilian lyricist and novelist, and his book The Alchemist, already on my TBR list, has moved up quite a few notches. I'm thinking it's probably time for me to read it, given all these hints from the Universe.

Don't You Just Love Synchronicity?

One of my favorite things about reading is stumbling on some obscure reference and recognizing it as relevant to something else I'm working on or thinking about at the time. It gives me that tingly, visceral feeling of being a single neuron in a vastly larger network of consciousness; for just a moment I can glimpse how the network connects its billions of points.

The latest example of this favorite feeling of mine is a single phrase in my current book, Fail, Fail Again, Fail Better. The subtitle is Wise Advice for Leaning into the Unknown, which strikes me as a bit trendy for the timeless spiritual teaching of a Buddhist nun. I suppose the whole "leaning in" thing optimizes search engines and sells books, so perhaps the trendiness can be forgiven.

Before I digress even further: in the introduction to the book, Seth Godin mentions author James P. Carse's book Finite and Infinite Games: A Vision of Life as Play and Possibility and spends a few brief paragraphs contrasting games that are played to win and games that are played to be played. This seems like a strange concept, at first, until you think of something like music or dancing: Nobody in the orchestra is trying to win the music, right? And no one who dances is trying to finish the dance ahead of all the others. The point of playing is playing. The point of dancing is dancing. And part of the point of both is collaborating with the others who are playing and dancing along with you.

I found this concept really intriguing the first time it was explained to me, and what a delightful moment of recognition to see it mentioned here. Sure enough, a few seconds of searching revealed the book on the TBR shelf, awaiting my renewed attention.

Maybe this year is the year I'll get to it. The signs are pointing that way.

Oh, and did I mention that Kayak Guy brought me belated roses for our anniversary earlier this month? There's a much more deliberate connection between the date and the roses, but I'll take it.

Morbid? (Not?)

photo credit: Prairie Creek Conservation Cemetery, Gainesville, FL

I'm all about the books, it being the first of the year, but that doesn't mean I'm not thinking about other things.

(If you're new to this page because of challenge reading, please don't let this post scare you away. Here at the Cafe we talk about all kinds of things!)

Every so often I wake up in the middle of the night with strange thoughts. The middle of the night is our most vulnerable and/or creative time for that, wouldn't you say?

I don't mean to be morbid here, but sometimes in the middle of the night I think about death. Not in a scary way--maybe that will change when I'm older?--but with surprise, amazement, and a sense of unreality.

It surprises me to realize that there is an event in my life that is NOT optional. Whether I want it to or not, it will happen to me. Maybe when I'm not expecting it, or maybe when I have time to prepare and am actually ready--but I'll definitely have to do it, sooner or later. On my best day, on my worst day, every day: it's coming.

It seems that when we're young we take for granted that dying is a long way off, and our whole expected lifespan of 70- or 80-something years lies between us and that reality. These days there are only 20 or 30 years (if I stay healthy) and most of my lifespan years are already behind me. And 20 or 30 years doesn't seem like a whole lot of time!  

It amazes me to think that the world will go on without me. I don't mean that I'm so important that I think the world will stop--far from it! Actually, the opposite amazes me: I'm completely sure it will keep zooming along in its usual mad and wonderful way. But how strange to think about that: the world will go on, and I won't be in it.

Then there's the whole question of what I'll be doing while the world gets back to normal, without me. Where will I be? Faith has answers, science has answers, and I'm just not sure. It's not even an easy thing to contemplate, this idea of still existing (if a soul goes on) without being anywhere physical.

I'm pretty confident that my person will rest in a lovely green cemetery a few hours from here. It's conservation land and the burial practices are traditional ones, without the fancy caskets, toxic chemicals, and hoopla associated with the modern funeral industry. Kayak Guy and I are happy to think we can be buried in a winding sheet, covered with flowers and mulch, marked with a native cypress tree snag, and left to feed the earth, while our spirits go . . . somewhere else.

Although I hope to be remembered, I doubt anyone will think of me on any kind of a regular basis, after a while. That's just part of the deal. People get busy with life again, the pain of loss is eased by time, and that's the way of things. We come and we go, and the world goes on.

And so these are the things I think about sometimes, in the middle of the night. But not in a bad way. Truth be told, I usually find it highly motivating, the next morning, to make the most of the time I have left.  

A Welcome Seasonal Surprise

There's no end to the number of wagons I've fallen off of lately -- the blogging wagon first among them.

However, during my silence I secured a fabulous new part-time job, helped create a joyful holiday experience for family and friends, finished a very difficult Yuletide jigsaw puzzle, completed a couple of household projects, visited with several old and dear friends, bought a new hard drive for the computer and a new battery for the car (both against my will!), acquired a massive amount of new reading material, and enjoyed various outdoor adventures.

So! I'm not a failure . . . even if I don't always achieve all the goals I set for myself.

We celebrated Christmas Day with a morning fire, gifts and breakfast, then a misty-day hike: 4 miles through the Florida woods with only 4 others met along the trail. It was the perfect antidote to the busy-ness of the holidays. And Mother Nature blessed us with some seasonal color along the way.

Now here I am, back on the blogging wagon.

This post began with the idea of facing the fact that I wasn't going to finish either of my reading challenges. But as it turns out, I still have time to complete one of them on time! In some ways, that's a lovely gift of prioritization -- even if I'm not crazy about the book that now requires my renewed attention.

As for assorted other wagons and challenges, well, there's always next year.

Happiest of holidays, everyone! 

Going/Not Going

I was supposed to be in Gatlinburg this week. Somehow Kayak Guy and I have made a habit of traveling in December. No doubt this habit is reinforced by busy-ness, procrastination, and frequent disregard for the deadline to use timeshare points before the end of the year.

Anyway, we had a few days of flip-flopping because of the terrible fires in Gatlinburg last week. It was hard to believe the magnitude: 14 dead, more than 100 injured, something like 14,000 displaced, and about 1,700 buildings destroyed. Then it was hard to accept that driving into the aftermath wasn't a good idea. We were thoroughly looking forward to some winter hiking and holiday festivities downtown (not to mention the aquarium!).

While we were trying to decide, it was particularly concerning that most of the touristy websites and the information we received from our resort said absolutely nothing about the fact a disaster was taking place. Even the lively person we spoke to assured us that the resort was open and the surrounding area wasn't affected by the fire, although they had experienced some wind damage from the 75+ m.p.h. winds that came through.

It was decidedly weird to receive cheery "we're looking forward to your visit" e-mails when the pictures we were seeing were of buildings consumed by flames and people having just enough time to jump into their cars and drive down a burning mountainside to safety. Or, sad to say, not having enough time to do that.

The view from the resort, via the Integrity Clubhouse Facebook page

In the end we decided that even if the resort was undamaged, it felt selfish and wrong to drive into the recovery effort in search of a good vacation. 

We'll go back early next year to support the area with our tourist dollars. Meanwhile, Ripley's Aquarium of the Smokies asks for letters of support while they remain closed; I'm happy to let them know I'll see the sharks and penguins and poison dart frogs another time, and to make a donation to help the community recover. Being disappointed about a vacation is nothing compared with what they're going through.