December, 26, 2006 -Twenty Second Letter
Celebration, FL
I saw countries united under one star in the east that arched toward the north faster than sound through the earth and then voices sang �Peace on Earth� in native languages and my heart sang with them. �Happy Holidays you who celebrate Solstice, Christmas, Hanukah, Kwanzaa, Ramadan, holidays with no name.� Happy Holidays, I say, not as a diluted politically correct greeting but an impassioned response to the universal response to the Spirit born this season. �
�AND to the experience of viewing the Shuttle launch with people who�d stepped out of their Epcot Holiday party because they live in Port Canaveral and the success of the Discovery�s mission is personal for them. I felt like a true citizen of Florida and of the universe, so I left my station to invite a dad to pick up his daughter for this moment. �Yes, she knows its there,� he said and didn�t move. I guess she just wanted her chocolate chip cookie. Perspective.
I went swimming within an hour of our return to Celebration in the middle of a little warmer than normal October, and as I stepped into the pool I pulled back. �I thought this was heated.� I said to someone. �It is in the winter,� she replied, and then I realized that the water felt so cold because the air was so hot and momentarily reconsidered our decision to use the motorhome as a vacation house while we plant some roots in Florida.
And plant we have! We now belong to two book clubs, one homeowners� association, two churches, one gym, we have Celebration and Epcot friends, and friends thru Art�s newest organization, an Rvers/Disney Lovers club that meets for lunch monthly. As our circles expand our routes do too. We drove an hour north of Orlando to the Whole Foods market for special cheeses for the book club�s holiday party and went with new friend Annie to the NASA Space Center a few weeks ago. We stood in a mock-up of the command center as it was in December 1968, the three ring binders, bulky computer stations, even the lab jackets worn by the crew with sponsor logos on their backs, are as they were in the moments before and after the Saturn Rocket lifted the Apollo capsule through the atmosphere, and remembered the hope of the new frontier which was then challenged by the picture of the earth taken by the Apollo 8 astronauts that brings perspective on global warming in Al Gore�s An Inconvenient Truth which we watched while wrapping presents last night.
We always had two trees in Holliston, a fir tree from the high school fundraiser decorated with angels and sentimental ornaments, and Art�s little K-Mart special filled with Disney characters. Tonight the little tree holds favorites from both collections along with a dozen or so too precious to retire. My favorite is a penguin on ice skates, the duplicate of one I hope is on my brother David�s tree because he deserves an annual apology for my making him walk home on HIS skates with little brother Joe who�d fallen thru the ice of the tiny pond in the woods behind our house so that I could sneak a cigarette with my 13 year old girl friends.
Well maybe he doesn�t need an annual apology, but putting the little guy on the tree gives me an annual dose of humility. The founder of Alcoholics Anonymous defined humility as �a quiet place where I can keep enough perspective and enough balance to take my next small step up the clearly marked road to eternal values.� (As Bill Sees It, pg. 100) As we travel the country, as we make Florida home, we�re finding that while the road may be clearly marked it looks very different for each of us. As I lit the Advent candles at church, I told the story of Juan Diego and Our Lady of Guadalupe and gave each family a rose to remind them that as we celebrate the birth of Jesus on Christmas morning, the love of God is re-born uniquely in each of us. The florist who sold me the roses really got into the message and encouraged me to talk about the rose hip that plants its seeds after the blossom dies. That seemed more like an Easter story to me, yet I�d been looking for a Christmas image more universal than snowmen. Hence the rose and the poem and our very best wishes for a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!
I saw countries united under one star in the east that arched toward the north faster than sound through the earth and then voices sang �Peace on Earth� in native languages and my heart sang with them. �Happy Holidays you who celebrate Solstice, Christmas, Hanukah, Kwanzaa, Ramadan, holidays with no name.� Happy Holidays, I say, not as a diluted politically correct greeting but an impassioned response to the universal response to the Spirit born this season. �
�AND to the experience of viewing the Shuttle launch with people who�d stepped out of their Epcot Holiday party because they live in Port Canaveral and the success of the Discovery�s mission is personal for them. I felt like a true citizen of Florida and of the universe, so I left my station to invite a dad to pick up his daughter for this moment. �Yes, she knows its there,� he said and didn�t move. I guess she just wanted her chocolate chip cookie. Perspective.
I went swimming within an hour of our return to Celebration in the middle of a little warmer than normal October, and as I stepped into the pool I pulled back. �I thought this was heated.� I said to someone. �It is in the winter,� she replied, and then I realized that the water felt so cold because the air was so hot and momentarily reconsidered our decision to use the motorhome as a vacation house while we plant some roots in Florida.
And plant we have! We now belong to two book clubs, one homeowners� association, two churches, one gym, we have Celebration and Epcot friends, and friends thru Art�s newest organization, an Rvers/Disney Lovers club that meets for lunch monthly. As our circles expand our routes do too. We drove an hour north of Orlando to the Whole Foods market for special cheeses for the book club�s holiday party and went with new friend Annie to the NASA Space Center a few weeks ago. We stood in a mock-up of the command center as it was in December 1968, the three ring binders, bulky computer stations, even the lab jackets worn by the crew with sponsor logos on their backs, are as they were in the moments before and after the Saturn Rocket lifted the Apollo capsule through the atmosphere, and remembered the hope of the new frontier which was then challenged by the picture of the earth taken by the Apollo 8 astronauts that brings perspective on global warming in Al Gore�s An Inconvenient Truth which we watched while wrapping presents last night.
We always had two trees in Holliston, a fir tree from the high school fundraiser decorated with angels and sentimental ornaments, and Art�s little K-Mart special filled with Disney characters. Tonight the little tree holds favorites from both collections along with a dozen or so too precious to retire. My favorite is a penguin on ice skates, the duplicate of one I hope is on my brother David�s tree because he deserves an annual apology for my making him walk home on HIS skates with little brother Joe who�d fallen thru the ice of the tiny pond in the woods behind our house so that I could sneak a cigarette with my 13 year old girl friends.
Well maybe he doesn�t need an annual apology, but putting the little guy on the tree gives me an annual dose of humility. The founder of Alcoholics Anonymous defined humility as �a quiet place where I can keep enough perspective and enough balance to take my next small step up the clearly marked road to eternal values.� (As Bill Sees It, pg. 100) As we travel the country, as we make Florida home, we�re finding that while the road may be clearly marked it looks very different for each of us. As I lit the Advent candles at church, I told the story of Juan Diego and Our Lady of Guadalupe and gave each family a rose to remind them that as we celebrate the birth of Jesus on Christmas morning, the love of God is re-born uniquely in each of us. The florist who sold me the roses really got into the message and encouraged me to talk about the rose hip that plants its seeds after the blossom dies. That seemed more like an Easter story to me, yet I�d been looking for a Christmas image more universal than snowmen. Hence the rose and the poem and our very best wishes for a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!
One Rose, Many Seeds,
One God, Many Blossoms
Below fragile petals
The rose�s many promises
Wait for it�s dying to grow.
But we do not wait.
We plant love
With gentle smiles from
The moment of our budding.
Life�s purpose in full bloom,
Life�s promises gathered in
Petals of sweet memories.
Each of us unique in
God�s great garden.
Beth Christmas 2006
Below fragile petals
The rose�s many promises
Wait for it�s dying to grow.
But we do not wait.
We plant love
With gentle smiles from
The moment of our budding.
Life�s purpose in full bloom,
Life�s promises gathered in
Petals of sweet memories.
Each of us unique in
God�s great garden.
Beth Christmas 2006
September 26, 2006 -Twenty-first Letter
Raccoon Valley CampgroundHeiskell, TN
Dear All,
It�s 10:30 am and the fog is just now burning off. Yesterday, the first sunshiny day in a week, we drove straight thru Kentucky on I-75 in six hours. Over the weekend we�d been on the edge of Americas heartland, 20 miles from Cincinnati where the thunderstorms had me anxious about tornados, but we�re in the �Adventure Stage of Life� and we�ve coped with blizzards and hurricanes, so we made a plan; run to the concrete laundry room with the dog and the 3 inch battery operated TV Jen bought when she was in 8th grade and sit out the storm instead of booking it south. Good thing too. The storms hit Kentucky and Tennessee particularly hard while we just got wet.We�ve had our share of weather luck this summer. When we got to Cumberland Bay Campground on Lake Champlain in Plattsburgh, NY, Art said �We�ve never been this far north in NY before, we should do some touring.� And then we found out that the state park we were in was free to the public so people wouldn�t die from the heat wave that had just hit the northeast. While 5 miles west of us people were sweltering, the breeze off the lake made it almost too chilly to swim!We took the ferry across the lake to meet Art�s cousin Betty for lunch in Burlington, VT. As we ate in a sidewalk caf� a parade the length of two city blocks passed our table. The mix of hippies, homeless and academics were acknowledging the anniversary of the bombing of Hiroshima, the threat of Nuclear War today, and served as a reminder that to say one is an American is to embrace a far broader population than anyone individual can represent.We got to celebrate one of my favorite Americans when Merri met us at the Adams� Family National Historic Site, the home where Abigail and John Adams lived after he retired from public service, where John Quincy Adams spent his summers, and where his library, the first Presidential Library, is housed. While Abigail has been a hero since I read her biography when I was 10, the museum�s interpreter spoke eloquently about JQ�s wife, Louisa. Together these formidable women shaped our country�s spirit as much as did their spouses.What�s that old saying;� Behind every successful man there are at least two women.�? (his mom and his wife, silly.) Well, while sitting out the rain, we caught a Nova program that was entitled E=mc2, that was more about the three women physicists whose research beginning in the mid-1800�s, led to Einstein�s insight and latter the splitting of the atom than Einstein himself J.Oh the mysteries of the universe! I went to a seminar on the �New� Solar System last week where I learned that Pluto is still a planet, sort of, and that despite the fact that NASA�s space probes have been helping astronomers refine and expand our understanding of the universe, the probes project funding will be re-directed for the next however many years so we can send a few folks to Mars by the middle of the century.The seminar was one of the twelve a day offered at the Escapade in Van Wert, OH: five days of seminars, pot lucks and entertainment put on by the Escapees Club. The club was founded by Kay and Joe Peterson almost 30 years ago when they and a few other contractors and their families who lived in motorhomes and traveled from job to job figured out a way, without email and cell phones, to stay connected while traveling long distances from each other. Kay and Joe�s membership number is SKP#1; we�re SKP# 86268 which means the club has had close to 150,000 members over the years because most numbers are assigned to couples. The club has a network of campgrounds and area chapters so people always have a place to park their home, and a myriad of BOF (Birds of a Feather) groups for people with common interests. When the speakers at the Escapade Newcomers� Orientation said, �Get involved: volunteer, join a chapter, find a BOF or two,� Art and I were ahead of the curve. Before entering the hall I�d signed myself up for two groups and he�d posted a themed sign-up sheet for a new one: Disney Lovers: Friends of the Mouse. Imagine his delight when twelve folks, just as enthusiastic as he, signed up to meet once a month at a Disney Restaurant. I paid my dues and wrote an article for the Penwheels, a mobile writers group, and we both spent a half hour with six other �Travelin� Catholics,� sharing tips for and stories about finding places to worship on the road.Churches tell us a lot about the town where we�ve landed. The SUNY Plattsburg Campus Ministry Parish led us to discovered the art on campus and the active community arts program in town where we saw a simple, simply touching, production of The Fantasticks. In Warrensburg the pastor was a sister of St. Joseph and the vibrant Spirit there had us remembering why we thought we�d retire to upstate New York when we were young and snow skied. While in Sturbridge we went to mass at St Anne�s Shrine, the church where I�d grown up, but I�d forgotten it was also a pilgrim�s destination in the summer and we were just two among many tourists huddled together under the outside wooden canopy on a damp rainy weekend. This Sunday we were in what could have been my childhood parish where the average family size is eight and life�s focus is the harvest ham and bean supper in Spades, Indiana.In our visits to the oldest and some of the smallest towns in America this season we�ve begun to realize how one�s place in the world is defined by one�s space on it. We got lost driving a straight road through Indiana�s cornfields and ended up at Dan Quayle�s birthplace. Another time we followed the windy shores of Lake George to find a space with just enough open sky for a wi-fi signal. We were caught in the rain four days out of seven all summer and remembered why sunshine is cherished in the Northeast. We saw first hand the impact of flash floods on the Bridges of Ashtabula, and heard the gratitude of the mayor of Van Wert as he gave the key to the city to the Escapees in appreciation for the clubs help when a tornado destroyed their city a few days after the last Escapade held there.And here we are in Tennessee, 7 miles from the Museum of Appalachia, 70 miles from Dollywood. We�ll visit both, and then attend a Gospel Sing Weekend at Suwannee River Campground in Florida on our way home. We�re looking forward_______.Peace and good_________,Beth
July 25, 2006 - Twentieth Letter
Bass Lake Eastern Mountain Resort Parish, NY
Dear all, If you've ever wondered why folks love New York, we think it's because of the people. Just listen: "I'm a Republican, but I saw Al Gore's movie. What a wake up call."* "People worry now about the shortage of oil. What are they going to do when there is a shortage of food?"** "I'm 84 years old and plan to reach 124 so I can be around on the 100th anniversary of the death of that evil man, Hitler."*** "Isn't this an adult pool? "Yes, but we're with my mother."**** *A retired GM exec in the parking lot of a supermarket who was talking with Art about Saturns and Florida when I walked up with the groceries. **A man sharing our campfire, an agent for the company that insured his family farm that he sold 20 years ago so he could send his kids to college. *** A WWII vet parked next to Art in the parking lot of a Post office. ****Me and a 16 year old. We've just ended a weekend of a spontaneous Summer Camp at Bass Lake Rseort, North of Syracuse, east of Lake Ontario that began when friends we made at our New Jersey Campground pulled into the right of us on Friday. To the left, a couple from Ohio, down the street, folks from Canada, and we spent the weekend eating, swimming, and touring the shores of Lake Ontario together. We'd end our days playing games of chance, and while Art is a little embarrassed that he won so often. I think it's just another sign that he was born lucky. We entered New York State on July 6th, our wedding anniversary, for another anniversary of sorts. Five years ago we spent two weeks on "the New York Side" at Niagara Falls where the mist drew our lives into focus and gave us a colorful, certain, yet undefined vision of the future. Standing in New York's Niagara State Park, one feels the courage and imagination that turned a raging river into a power source and while security is tighter than it was in 2001, the cooperation between Canada and the U.S. gives one great hope especially when one learns that both countries think they won the War of 1812. We took a cruise on the Erie Canal in Lockport that once had more millionaires per capita than any other city in the U.S. We heard the stories of the men from all over the world who built it and later became the leaders of communities that today could be dying as industry moves out and into the global economy except their descendants are organizing to convert the land and locks into National Parks as a way to preserve their heritage - and build a tourist centered economy around the farms and vineyards still left. I pray they'll receive the grants. It's pretty likely that they won't. In our travels across the country we've seen State and National parks maintained primarily by volunteers which makes sense when one considers that towns have had to close their public libraries or end the school year early because community life costs so much. And yet it is community that gives us life. Between New Jersey and New York we spent three weeks in Pennsylvania, where we saw Holliston friend/college student Chris Lebeau perform at Hershey Park and met up with Pat and Graham from Falmouth, MA in the middle of Amish Country a couple of days before Jed and Jen Heuer's wedding which was a delightful celebration of the value of family and friends that Mr. Rogers sang about as Jed danced with his mom. She, Pat and I met in a book club when we were beginning our families and through the overlapping circles of the parenting groups we started at church, in schools, and in homes, we counted at least twenty children we raised together. We marvel at the creative directions their adult lives are taking, which is why our Lancaster lunch lasted four hours! I've been lucky to be a member of one or more reading groups for the past 30 years. Right now, one is having an e-discussion on the morality of food choices, another just read a memoir about the affects of child abuse, and my mind keeps returning to the Republican in the Parking Lot. It's our children's children we are concerned about we agreed then; the urgency of our concern heightened by the latest crisis in the Middle East. Just before we left Pennsylvania, we visited Gettysburg. I offer my reflection as a reminder that "Those who do not know history are bound to repeat it." and as aprayer for perspective and humility amongst our selves and those who speak in our name. Peace and good________, Beth
Thunder in Pennsylvania
After each almost violent storm,
I marvel at the killdeer on her eggs,
Unprotected, unafraid,
In the field behind my tent.
We leave her and here
To stand on Cemetery Ridge
Where tears flow as blood did.
54,000 casualties
times multiple loved ones
unknown, unheralded.
The one civilian casualty an accident
for war had rules then;
only soldiers died
(and the spirits of those who loved them.)
Why do we come to this place?
Where the voices of the dead
Speak of home family fear sacrifice,
The Gettysburg Address an apology for carnage.
The prophet�s later wish
�With malice toward none, charity for all�,
Was taken by a vengeful bullet
In the last theater of that war.
Today,
Wars don�t have theaters,
civilians die, often on purpose.
And the thunder in Pennsylvania
Will not upset the killdeer.
Beth July 4, 2006
After each almost violent storm,
I marvel at the killdeer on her eggs,
Unprotected, unafraid,
In the field behind my tent.
We leave her and here
To stand on Cemetery Ridge
Where tears flow as blood did.
54,000 casualties
times multiple loved ones
unknown, unheralded.
The one civilian casualty an accident
for war had rules then;
only soldiers died
(and the spirits of those who loved them.)
Why do we come to this place?
Where the voices of the dead
Speak of home family fear sacrifice,
The Gettysburg Address an apology for carnage.
The prophet�s later wish
�With malice toward none, charity for all�,
Was taken by a vengeful bullet
In the last theater of that war.
Today,
Wars don�t have theaters,
civilians die, often on purpose.
And the thunder in Pennsylvania
Will not upset the killdeer.
Beth July 4, 2006
June 20, 2006 Nineteenth Letter
Thousand Trails Preserve- Hershey
Lebanon, PA
Dear All,
On May 5th we parked in Jodi and Justin�s driveway in Brimfield, MA where our motorhome blended into 2 acres of trees and children�s toys, and enjoyed several weeks of Simple Gifts - watching their daughter play t-ball while chatting with my siblings, being part my brother Joe�s surprise 50th Birthday party, making ice cream, niece Toni�s college graduation, hanging out with friends in Medway, Holliston and then at Scusset Beach.
Art�s birthday surprise was a visit from Jen who flew up from Florida to be a part of our two-day �Walk the Beach Open House at the Campsite� that was exactly what we�d hoped it would be except we missed all of you who had other plans. It began raining in Massachusetts on Tuesday, May 9th, the 1st day of the First of the Season �Brimfield Antique Show and Flea Market�. It rains every day the �Fleas� are in town, the locals told us, and even though the fleas didn�t follow us to the Cape Cod Canal, the rain did. We were a little nervous that our campsite flood would get deeper as the storms continued for another week, and then the winds came, almost too strong to fly a kite, almost too strong to walk down the Canal. We ignored the weather and explored Plimoth Plantation, had lunch with my aunt, dinner with my nephew and breakfast with my cousin during the week leading up to the party and woke Saturday, May 27th to a dry site, sunshine, ocean water warm enough to swim in if one is from New England, and No Wind! That was the only disappointment. After reading the Kite Runner, I was psyched for a little competition, but our neighbors helped me out � they loaned us �Ladders, the Golf-Toss game that�s all the rage at campgrounds. (See our pictures.)
Our campground was just south of Plymouth, �the greatest town in America�, according to Meredith who has made her home there since October. It�s an adventure to walk in and out of centuries as one shops at the Sparrow House, the oldest house in town which has kept it�s original wing complete with furnishings, while its newer wing (built in 17__?) sells jewelry and fine crafts from artists all over New England. Then, when we caught the Memorial Day wreath ceremony on the Mayflower II with 3-year-old niece Emma and her parents, time converged and we became humbly aware of the paradoxical realities of the eternal now and the need to remember and preserve.
Who preserves what is interesting (The Wompanog Women at the Plimoth Plantation told us that the only thing accurate in Disney�s Pocahontas was her dress) and memory distorts. Walking the beach with my sisters and daughters, none of us remembered that the Pilgrims and Puritans came on different boats to settle different places. The latter were later and far more conservative but it is those values we speak of when we think of our forefathers (and mothers) although by 1776 the men (and women) responsible for the Revolution were more Deists than Christians. Washington�s Crossing by David Hackett Fischer taught me that Washington crossed the Delaware, not from Valley Forge, where the Continental Army wintered in �77-�78, but from Johnson�s Ferry, PA just north of Trenton on Christmas Eve, 1776, and the drive to continue the revolution came not so much from the decision makers in Philadelphia, but from the militia men (the Brits called them insurgents) at the battles of Trenton and Princeton.
Who knew the importance of New Jersey! J When I was at Rutgers I thought of New Jersey as the road between New York City and Philadelphia, and when we bought our Thousand Trails campground membership we figured that the New Jersey park 20 minutes from Atlantic City would be the place we�d go to catch our breath and do laundry as we traveled between home (FL) and family (MA). This trip we moved to �Jersey� to catch our breath before Godson Jed�s wedding in PA at the end of June, and found ourselves with nice weather and time to explore. We traveled north about 10 miles to visit Tuckerton Seaport, that includes re-creations of the Tuckerton Yacht Club, the Tucker Island Lighthouse, and a variety of exhibits on the life at the shore developed by a group of friends who were afraid that the Baymen�s life would go the way of the Tucker Island Lighthouse that washed into the sea in 1927. We pretended we were chaperones and listened as a volunteer interpreter gave an animated talk on the ecology of the sea marshes to a school group. The adjacent restaurant opened its doors early for us when we told them the lady in the gift shop said they would, and after a messy, fun, delicious lunch of fresh crabs we returned to the �Seaport� for conversations with the museum guides about lighthouses, the Jersey Devil and life on a barrier island.
On one of our explores we got lost in the 110,000 acres of Wharton State Park. Feeling a little like The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon, we were audibly relieved to see a lone ranger clearing a campsite. �Follow that road straight and make sure you don�t turn off� he said firmly, after a long chat about his dream to live a life like ours. We did as he said, and 200 yards after the dirt turned to pavement we came to Basco Village, built in the early 18th century as an Iron Works community, it�s an industrial Ghost Town, and a New Jersey State Park.
The next day it rained until almost sunset, but when the storm stopped the crisp air called us to be active, so we jumped in the car and found the entrance to the Edwin B Forsythe National Wildlife Refuge, just 10 minutes south of the campground. After we drove the 8-mile trail around the salt marsh we promised each other we�d be able to name the variety of birds whose pictures we took when we return next year. In the parking lot, members of a local photography club just leaving their meeting invited us to join them whenever we�re in the area. On our visit to the Noyes Art Museum that abuts the Refuge, I exchanged email addresses with a poet/mom whose children�s� artwork was on display there. There are nice people everywhere, of course, but friendliness seems to abound in South Jersey � and again we say �Who Knew?!�
We arrived at this campground on last Thursday and were greeted like an old friend by the ranger. �Hey everybody, the Ramos� are here,� he said as he handed us our mail. So, we�re in Pennsylvania Dutch Country, six miles from Hershey Park, both of which we�re looking forward to visiting, but today we�re catching up on business. At home, we�d wait for a rainy day or Sunday, but on the road, we stay inside even when it�s 92 and sunny if we�re near wi-fi and strong mobile phone signals.
We hope y�all are enjoying the beginning of summer which may be today depending on which calendar you�re using. Looking forward to hearing adventure stories from the folks heading to Italy, Disney World and the Appalachian Trail tomorrow.
Peace and good______,
Beth
April 25, 2006 - Eighteenth Leter
Beachcomber Outdoor Resort
St. Augustine, FL
Dear All,
During the past three weeks, in preparation for our departure, we drove regularly from our campground to Celebration over a once rural road that is being widened to three lanes even as gas prices rise three cents a day. The sense of the finite, that the world will run out of oil, the real estate bubble will burst, the polar ice cap will melt, was palpable as the days became hotter and the commute more congested unless we timed it just right. And while all of that MAY be true, also true is that life cycles and life goes on.
Thousand Trails Preserve- Hershey
Lebanon, PA
Dear All,
On May 5th we parked in Jodi and Justin�s driveway in Brimfield, MA where our motorhome blended into 2 acres of trees and children�s toys, and enjoyed several weeks of Simple Gifts - watching their daughter play t-ball while chatting with my siblings, being part my brother Joe�s surprise 50th Birthday party, making ice cream, niece Toni�s college graduation, hanging out with friends in Medway, Holliston and then at Scusset Beach.
Art�s birthday surprise was a visit from Jen who flew up from Florida to be a part of our two-day �Walk the Beach Open House at the Campsite� that was exactly what we�d hoped it would be except we missed all of you who had other plans. It began raining in Massachusetts on Tuesday, May 9th, the 1st day of the First of the Season �Brimfield Antique Show and Flea Market�. It rains every day the �Fleas� are in town, the locals told us, and even though the fleas didn�t follow us to the Cape Cod Canal, the rain did. We were a little nervous that our campsite flood would get deeper as the storms continued for another week, and then the winds came, almost too strong to fly a kite, almost too strong to walk down the Canal. We ignored the weather and explored Plimoth Plantation, had lunch with my aunt, dinner with my nephew and breakfast with my cousin during the week leading up to the party and woke Saturday, May 27th to a dry site, sunshine, ocean water warm enough to swim in if one is from New England, and No Wind! That was the only disappointment. After reading the Kite Runner, I was psyched for a little competition, but our neighbors helped me out � they loaned us �Ladders, the Golf-Toss game that�s all the rage at campgrounds. (See our pictures.)
Our campground was just south of Plymouth, �the greatest town in America�, according to Meredith who has made her home there since October. It�s an adventure to walk in and out of centuries as one shops at the Sparrow House, the oldest house in town which has kept it�s original wing complete with furnishings, while its newer wing (built in 17__?) sells jewelry and fine crafts from artists all over New England. Then, when we caught the Memorial Day wreath ceremony on the Mayflower II with 3-year-old niece Emma and her parents, time converged and we became humbly aware of the paradoxical realities of the eternal now and the need to remember and preserve.
Who preserves what is interesting (The Wompanog Women at the Plimoth Plantation told us that the only thing accurate in Disney�s Pocahontas was her dress) and memory distorts. Walking the beach with my sisters and daughters, none of us remembered that the Pilgrims and Puritans came on different boats to settle different places. The latter were later and far more conservative but it is those values we speak of when we think of our forefathers (and mothers) although by 1776 the men (and women) responsible for the Revolution were more Deists than Christians. Washington�s Crossing by David Hackett Fischer taught me that Washington crossed the Delaware, not from Valley Forge, where the Continental Army wintered in �77-�78, but from Johnson�s Ferry, PA just north of Trenton on Christmas Eve, 1776, and the drive to continue the revolution came not so much from the decision makers in Philadelphia, but from the militia men (the Brits called them insurgents) at the battles of Trenton and Princeton.
Who knew the importance of New Jersey! J When I was at Rutgers I thought of New Jersey as the road between New York City and Philadelphia, and when we bought our Thousand Trails campground membership we figured that the New Jersey park 20 minutes from Atlantic City would be the place we�d go to catch our breath and do laundry as we traveled between home (FL) and family (MA). This trip we moved to �Jersey� to catch our breath before Godson Jed�s wedding in PA at the end of June, and found ourselves with nice weather and time to explore. We traveled north about 10 miles to visit Tuckerton Seaport, that includes re-creations of the Tuckerton Yacht Club, the Tucker Island Lighthouse, and a variety of exhibits on the life at the shore developed by a group of friends who were afraid that the Baymen�s life would go the way of the Tucker Island Lighthouse that washed into the sea in 1927. We pretended we were chaperones and listened as a volunteer interpreter gave an animated talk on the ecology of the sea marshes to a school group. The adjacent restaurant opened its doors early for us when we told them the lady in the gift shop said they would, and after a messy, fun, delicious lunch of fresh crabs we returned to the �Seaport� for conversations with the museum guides about lighthouses, the Jersey Devil and life on a barrier island.
On one of our explores we got lost in the 110,000 acres of Wharton State Park. Feeling a little like The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon, we were audibly relieved to see a lone ranger clearing a campsite. �Follow that road straight and make sure you don�t turn off� he said firmly, after a long chat about his dream to live a life like ours. We did as he said, and 200 yards after the dirt turned to pavement we came to Basco Village, built in the early 18th century as an Iron Works community, it�s an industrial Ghost Town, and a New Jersey State Park.
The next day it rained until almost sunset, but when the storm stopped the crisp air called us to be active, so we jumped in the car and found the entrance to the Edwin B Forsythe National Wildlife Refuge, just 10 minutes south of the campground. After we drove the 8-mile trail around the salt marsh we promised each other we�d be able to name the variety of birds whose pictures we took when we return next year. In the parking lot, members of a local photography club just leaving their meeting invited us to join them whenever we�re in the area. On our visit to the Noyes Art Museum that abuts the Refuge, I exchanged email addresses with a poet/mom whose children�s� artwork was on display there. There are nice people everywhere, of course, but friendliness seems to abound in South Jersey � and again we say �Who Knew?!�
We arrived at this campground on last Thursday and were greeted like an old friend by the ranger. �Hey everybody, the Ramos� are here,� he said as he handed us our mail. So, we�re in Pennsylvania Dutch Country, six miles from Hershey Park, both of which we�re looking forward to visiting, but today we�re catching up on business. At home, we�d wait for a rainy day or Sunday, but on the road, we stay inside even when it�s 92 and sunny if we�re near wi-fi and strong mobile phone signals.
We hope y�all are enjoying the beginning of summer which may be today depending on which calendar you�re using. Looking forward to hearing adventure stories from the folks heading to Italy, Disney World and the Appalachian Trail tomorrow.
Peace and good______,
Beth
April 25, 2006 - Eighteenth Leter
Beachcomber Outdoor Resort
St. Augustine, FL
Dear All,
During the past three weeks, in preparation for our departure, we drove regularly from our campground to Celebration over a once rural road that is being widened to three lanes even as gas prices rise three cents a day. The sense of the finite, that the world will run out of oil, the real estate bubble will burst, the polar ice cap will melt, was palpable as the days became hotter and the commute more congested unless we timed it just right. And while all of that MAY be true, also true is that life cycles and life goes on.
In November the leaves fell so quickly we thought the trees around us had died from either the drought or the hurricanes. Just as quickly the leaves returned, and in one week there was much needed shade and the hope that comes with spring. It was on
�Earthday�, the day after Disney opened it�s Flower and Garden Festival (6 weeks that celebrate plant life and teaches one how to garden with �EnvironMentality�) and the day before we left for our six months on the road, that the number of gecko running around our building made me feel like the moveable goal posts of a rugby match and reminded me that we humans are only borrowing space on this earth. (Which, by the way was the radical, political message of Earthday #1, April 22, 1970.)
The fact that it may cost us almost twice as much to travel half as far as we did last year
means we�ll immerse ourselves more in wherever we land. First stop - St. Augustine. Ponce De Leon landed here in 1513 and claimed all of La Florida, the land of the flowers, for Spain. The city was founded in 1565 on the Feast Day of Saint Augustine and is the oldest city inhabited by Europeans on the North American Continent. Florida became a British colony in 1763 after the French-Indian War because Spain really wanted to keep Havana, and we were given back to Spain as a �Thank-you� for its support during the Revolutionary war. Florida claimed statehood in 1845, then ceded from the union in 1861, but didn�t have much to do with that war either because the Union Flotilla captured the fort, Castillo De San Marcos, in 1862. And if I sound like a tour guide it�s because we�ve been riding the trolley for three days stopping at museums along the way.
Having read Maria, the story of a British army officer�s wife who, because she was a trusted mid-wife for the most important families in town, was able to skirt the bounds of propriety and become a successful landholder in the 1770�s, I was eager to walk with her through the old city and visit her home. (Although her�s is referred to as the �Oldest House� in North America, that honor really belongs to a Native American home in AZ or NM.) Art patiently entered into the time warp that is St. George�s Street for the morning, and then we spent the afternoon exploring the first, and nicest of the Ripley Believe It or Not museums. Art�s now been to four of the seven, and has a new goal.
We�ve learned about Henry Flagler who was the Walt Disney of the Gilded Age, and I say that with the greatest respect and admiration. Thomas Edison designed the electric and plumbing systems, and Louis Tiffany did the lamps and windows for the Ponce De Leon Hotel that had rooms for $6 - $90 a night in a time when people earned $1 a week. Not everyone could afford or wanted to rent for the entire �Season� (Jan � Mar) so Flagler opened two more hotels in town (and built 3 churches � he was a generous man.) and then built a railroad to Miami, with a hotel at every stop. Sadly, he was �hoisted on by his own petard� as my mother used to say. Once people got south of Palm Beach they realized they didn�t have to ever be cold in the winter, so the St. Augustine hotels fell into disrepair. The �Ponce�, now Flagler College, is listed on the National Register of Historical Buildings and is receiving federal/state money for restoration, (maybe that�s why tuition is only $14,000 a year including room and board) and the Alcazar houses the collections of O.T. Lightner who had had his �stuff� stored in two buildings in Detroit until 1947, St Augustine�s city offices and an antique mall and caf� built on the cement floor of what was once the largest indoor swimming pool in the world.
Once is a life cycle word. �Once in the past� �Once in a lifetime� �Once, just one time� All of �once� moves us this year. Once upon a time Art�s mother loved the streets of St. Augustine and she is very much with us as we journey on to Plymouth, where daughter Merri lives with friend Geoff and their dog and where we hope everyone we know in the northeast will visit us at Scusset Beach one day over Memorial Day Weekend.
Once in a lifetime as we look forward to introducing my nieces to Art�s cousins in New York City while camping in New Jersey and then onto Godson Jed�s wedding in Pennsylvania.
The �once� of adventure will be with us as we explore east of the Mississippi until it�s time for the �Once, as soon as�� we return home to Celebration, where more new friends and work we love await.
Peace and good__________
Beth
P.S. Be sure to check out our website http://www.peaceandgood.us/ for pictures of the fun we�ve had with visitors this winter, as well as the list of books I�ve read since January when I was again able to hold a book in my lap J.
Tuesday, February 28, 2006
Celebration, FL 34747
Dear All,
I last wrote on the first Tuesday in Advent ~ Today is Fat Tuesday, the day before Lent begins, and much has happened in between the two seasons.
Early in January Meredith flew in just before midnight the day her winter class ended and flew out four days later for the beginning of the spring semester. The �Blue Unit� of the Ringling Bros. Circus opened in Orlando that same night, and Jen, whose time since Novem
ber had been devoted to its being launched had a free weekend. They guided me through Epcot, helped me to my seat at the circus (it was deep toward the front, without handrails) and, while Jen introduced Merri to her colleagues, Art and I watched families meet the performers during the pre-show and felt just that was worth the price of the ticket.I was a tad teary eyed on Christmas morning, missing the cacophony of our extended family�s celebration, but the feeling past as soon as Art opened his gift from our children - a huge air compressor to inflate the mega tires on the motorhome � a playful reminder from them that they�re happy about the life we�ve chosen. We rather like their choices, too. Sunday Merri called to talk about school and to say that she� looking for a dog to run with her at Plymouth State Park, and then Jen called to say she'd gotten back safe from a weekend diving and hanging out at Key Largo. I love that their lives are so different and so individually �right� for them.
After being housebound for most of the winter, I was surprised that I was envious of folks in the Northeast as they prepared to hunker down for the blizzard a couple of weeks ago. I always loved the anticipation of a blizzard, and snuggling in near the wood stove with a good book during the storm � feelings that go back to the blizzard of �78 when Art spent the week sealing dry wall, and I, eight months pregnant, put on skis and pulled Jen next door on a sled for a cup of tea with Ingrid and �Gram� Davies.
Central Florida was under a deep freeze warning while you were all digging out, and there was concern for the citrus crop, hundreds of thousands of acres dotted various shades of yellow, orange and green; fruit that survived citrus cancer and hurricanes still can be lost in a snap. We drove past the groves on our way home from Sanibel Island, where we visited my cousin Kathy Lynch and her Mom. Aunt Esther has wintered there since the 70�s when, moved by the energy that comes in mid-life, picked up a book on favorite vacation spots, opened it to mid-page, saw the sea shells and knew she�d found a home.
We�d planned to make ourselves a home here this winter, and as soon as the brace came off in January we plunged right in. Lots of folks have passed thru Orlando; we�ve met them for breakfast, lunch and dinner and some even stayed over. (More are coming� Michele and Pat, Janet, Paul and Priscilla, maybe even my brother Tom!!!!!)
We took the AARP safe driving course and learned a lot while saving a little on our auto insurance. Art got a stunt kite for Christmas that has made for fun on not too windy days, and when he rode Disney�s Expedition Everest, I devoured books on the people of the Himayalas. I�m now a member of two book groups and Art is getting involved in the Condo Home Owners Association � he�s agreed that I�m going to write the news letter (to be fair, he�s collecting the information, very doable from the motorhome thanks to the internet), and we�re back to both church and the gym. In anticipation of my return to work at Epcot (tonight!) we took �theme park� walks beginning at Sea World which is less crowded than the Disney parks, building up to several walks around Epcot in the dark in the middle of School Vacation week. I think I�m ready.
When I began Physical Therapy I could feel one muscle group that ran from neck to hip. A month later I�m aware of six. And it�s not just my back muscles that are making themselves known. Yesterday I went food shopping by myself, and realized that my sore left knee came from shifting 1st to 2nd to 3rd and back again as I traveled two miles of stop and go traffic; something I�ve not done since September. My goal is to again be unaware of any muscles because they�re all working as they�re suppose to. I hope to at least slow dance at my Godson�s wedding in PA in June.
We celebrated my new freedom with a day in St. Petersburg with Jen a couple of weeks ago. We toured the Dali Museum (Can I just tell you how brilliant that man was? It looks like he used all of his brain all of the time�It looks like the fine line between genius and madness became the fabric of his life!) and then walked down to the pier. As we were people watching I said for probably the thousandth time how lucky I feel as I observe others in PT who are learning to live with limits they never expected.
So Jen looks at Art, and then at me and back to Art again and asks, "What do you want us to do with you when you get old? Where do you want to go? Where do you want to be buried?" Wasn't that good of her to pick such a gorgeous place for the conversation?
We told her we'd get back to her. We still have places to go and people to see�
Peace and good________,
Beth
� Copyright 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006 Beth Ramos
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