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Meet Pollyanna’s Brother

Sometimes your best Facebook post is the one you don’t make.

I just deleted a lengthy tome – a response to something a friend posted on Facebook. In thinking about it, I thought it was more appropriate to post here on the blog instead.

On starting this blog, I made a conscious decision that I was going to refrain from any political statements. There have been a few posts  … a very few … where I alluded to things there were going on in the country while being very careful not to point fingers or take an outright political stand on things. I’m going to follow that rule to some degree today, but given the shooting of Congressman Steve Scalise a couple of days ago, there’s something I need to get off my chest. And it has to do with the political climate we are all living in.

Like Will McAvoy of “The Newsroom”, I remember a time when we didn’t identify ourselves “by who we voted for in the last election.” When disagreements with other people’s viewpoints didn’t escalate to estrangement from one another. And when we didn’t think that those we disagreed with were evil!

I have good friends … dear friends, with political viewpoints that range pretty much all the way up and down the “conservative – liberal” spectrum. So I’m deeply troubled and saddened when those friends post things on Facebook like, “Guns don’t kill people. Leftists kill people,” or “It’s okay that 26 kids get killed at Sandy Hook, but let one Republican Congressman get shot and all hell breaks loose.”

Given how vilification is the norm these days, is it any wonder that someone has taken a pot shot at elected officials? Quite frankly, I’m surprised it hasn’t happened before now. And it doesn’t really matter that this time it turned out to be a guy with a liberal bent who shot a conservative congressman. It could just have easily been the other way around. Next time, If there is a next time, it could be. Hatred isn’t confined to one side or the other. Neither is violence. There are people on both sides who are extreme enough to listen to all the hate being expressed in politics today and decide to act on it.

I don’t care what your political beliefs are. From my perspective, we all have valid concerns about the problems in this country. And for the most part, they are all legitimate concerns, whether you personally share specific ones or not.

But also for the most part, when you get down to the basics, we all want the same thing – a decent place to live where you don’t have to worry about stepping outside your door; meaningful work, whether it’s in a job or as a stay-at-home parent; the ability to put food on our tables; and a chance at a better life … ideally, for ourselves, but most definitely for our kids. I’m pretty sure those are universal wants and desires and it doesn’t matter who you are or who you voted for!

After that, I’m pretty sure most of us would like to see some ongoing problems in our country addressed, too – a reduction in child poverty and suffering; adequate and affordable health care; a reduction in violence; the right to practice one’s faith, or to live without having someone else’s belief system forced on them. There are others, but that’s not the focus here.

Unfortunately, none of those things are going to happen … basic or otherwise …  if we continue to vilify those we disagree with. Or see them as incapable of rational thought. Or think of them as evil!

We have to establish a give and take. A middle ground, a place where we can agree. And be willing to compromise. Even on things for which we feel there is no room for compromise.

Some people are saying that the divisiveness in our country is the fault of “the media”, or the current makeup of Congress. In reality though, we really can’t do anything about “the media” … CNN and Fox News aren’t going to change, and we’re always going to have the New York Times and the Rush Limbaugh’s of the world.  The odds that most of Congress will be re-elected are greater than the odds that the New England Patriots will make the playoffs each year, too. So it doesn’t seem like we can do much about them, either. We’re not going to see an end to money influencing our lawmakers (or the election process itself), nor are we going to see term limits. At least for the foreseeable future. We can only take full responsibility for ourselves.

We can take responsibility for how we see each other. How we talk to each other. And how we act towards each other. Even if “they” live an entirely different way of life than we do! Even if “they” have an entirely  different political perspective than we do.

I work very hard to do that myself. That wasn’t always the case – I’ve been guilty of my share of vitriol (and I’m ashamed to say that I had lapses this past November). But a few years ago, something happened.

I made a generalized statement one day that attached all sorts of vile reasons to why someone would vote opposite of how I believed. And a good friend “Joe” (not his real name) pointed out to me that if I felt that way, then I must feel that about him, because he was going to vote differently than I was in the election.

That was a moment of epiphany. I knew that none of those vile reasons applied to him. And yet he was making a political choice different from mine. And I was embarrassed about it! I owned up to it, told him that was wrong of me, and aplogized. But it still weighed on me. If I could be wrong about him, what did it mean about others. Could I be wrong about them as well? And the simple answer was “yes”.

That was tough to acknowledge. It was a negative reflection on me. It caused even more turmoil as I continued to be caught up in political chat threads and Facebook posts by people who were as adamant in their opposing beliefs as I was in mine. Other friends posted nasty generalizations about people who held different political beliefs than they did … and whether they knew it or not, they were indirectly aiming those accusations at me! And I felt the same sting that Joe did. I still feel those stings when I see them posted nowadays.

I continued to struggle because I was still embroiled in those political discussions. I hated those people that were posting stuff I disagreed with. Hate! And at the same time, my experience with Joe was causing all sorts of conflict.

When you add all of that to the ongoing depression and anxiety I was feeling, it put me into a horrible downward spiral. I got to the point where I had basically lost faith in mankind. And I lost faith in myself and my ability to deal with people. In retrospect, it was probably a major factor in why I became reclusive. Why my hands would shake as I reached for the door knob. I’ve mentioned that before in earlier posts, how difficult it was to leave my apartment, even to let Frank out to do his business. I could barely make it to the grocery store and started having take out food more and more.

I won’t recite all the stuff you can read on the “About” page. I made the decision to leave my consultancy practice, get rid of my apartment, and go on the road. And those of you that have followed the blog for awhile now know the transformative impact that had on my life.

Those of you who have followed Frank and me for a while have also read the stories about how my faith in mankind has been restored. You might remember Len, the guy who was managing the campground down in La Feria, TX, who let the young veteran and his family stay in a no kids, 55+ RV park because “it was the right thing to do.” Or the guy who simply said, “Pay It Forward,” as he put $20 of gas in my car early one morning when my debit card wasn’t working because, unbeknownst to me, I had to make special arrangements to have it accepted in Texas. Or the women who insisted that they were going to bring me dinner a few nights around Christmas, just wanting to show kindness to an old guy who was traveling alone with his dog.

Nobody asked what anybody’s political persuasions were. Or what religion they were. Or if they were gay or straight. Or why they were in their particular situation.  They were just doing good! And those were just a very, very few examples of all I’ve seen and experienced on the road.

So why can’t that goodness and respect for one another extend to politics? Why can’t we see other people as human first and put aside whatever other differences there might be. And. Just. Talk. Civilly. To. One. Another.

Are you a staunch conservative? Are you a staunch liberal? I’ve got news for both of you. You are not 100% right on everything and you don’t have all the answers that are needed to solve this country’s problems. And the people you oppose? They’re not 100% wrong … and they are not the source of all those problems!

The simple fact is that we need each other to move forward. We need to get back to a point where we used to be, when the majority of us could be civil, and compromise, and be satisfied that we got some of what we wanted in a negotiation, but not everything. Instead of getting the best of what each side has to offer, we’re getting nothing of benefit. All we’re getting is further apart.

Liberals are not going to destroy this country. Conservatives are not going to destroy this country. They won’t, you know. Rush and Rachel be damned.

You know what will? Hatred, divisiveness, and incalcitrance will. It’s happening. Now!

If you can’t accept that, then you’ve wasted whatever time you’ve taken to read this post. You will continue to be a part of the problem, in my opinion. And we will all suffer as a result. Go back to the news source that tells you what you want to hear. And I wish you well.

If you accept it though, and you also see in yourself what I recognized in myself back when Joe called me out from my hatred, divisiveness, and incalcitrance, then I pray that you use this post as your epiphany. And that you simply stop before you think of the “other guy” the way you have been. And see them as just another person who wants what you do … but has different ideas how to get there. Someone who is worthy of respect. Someone who is worthy of being listened to. Someone who is human.

Quixotic?  Yeah, sure. Pollyannaish? Most definitely! But at this point, it’s all I got.

Who knows? If I can do it, then you can do it. And if the few hundred of you that follow this blog will tell somebody else, then maybe they can do it. And sooner than later, our representatives can do it … after all, we elect them. And if they figure out they’re not going to get reelected by dividing us, maybe they’ll start focusing on governing instead of what we have now. And what will the media have to say about that?

Regular programming on this blog will resume tomorrow. I promise. Thank you for indulging me. And for those of you wandered over because of the title, neither Hayley Mills nor Kevin Corcoran will be making a guest appearance today.   : o)

 
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Posted by on June 16, 2017 in Musings

 

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“Rock” On

Frank and I are finally close to Nirvana. Actually, we’re on the outskirts of Warrensburg, NY … but as of about 2 p.m. this afternoon, I’d be willing to bet you could send a letter to Buddha using Warrensburg’s zip code and it would find its way to the man. But let me back up a bit.

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Still covered in fleece!!

It never really did warm up at our last campsite. During our last week there, Frank spent most of his time inside the Nutshell asleep. And I spent most of my time in the camp chair with a fleece over my lap. There were some mornings where I also wrapped a blanket around my back, too. I was managing, but I’d be lying if I said that it wasn’t getting to me a little bit.

I did get a couple of things done, though. Summer doesn’t start until June 22nd, you know. So technically, it wasn’t too late for me to get some spring cleaning done. And I’m pretty happy with the results.

First off, I went through a bunch of old paperwork I had been carrying. Not all of what I’ve amassed, probably about a third of it. Most of it was old mail – receipts, some magazines, some invoices for things that are automatically paid online, and what have you. I burned it in the fire ring one night with a couple of logs on top to make sure embers didn’t escape into the atmosphere. I figure I’ll do a little bit more at each stop and eventually I’ll have it down to nothing.

Next, I went through two of the bins I’ve been carrying around since day one. One of them had become a repository for stuff that I just needed to throw into the Nutshell when it was moving day. You know – “I’ll get to it later” stuff. In reality, it should have been named the, “What the hell was I thinking?” bin. Isn’t it funny how, in the heat of the moment, something seems important enough to keep for later? Then later comes. And reality hits.

With that in mind, I found the following items in the “WTHWIT?” bin …

  • Four cans of stale beer for which there was no room in the cooler when I packed up back in November
  • Two shirts that needed to go in the laundry after my laundry bag was already in the trunk of the car … I have no idea how long they’ve been there, but I had been missing them
  • A dirty dish rag, probably thrown in there at the same time the shirts were
  • A bottle of ketchup which, if shaken with all my might 15 times, might yield enough ketchup to cover half a sandwich
  • My mallet, that I have been looking for for at least a year … I’ve been using my hammer on the outer stake for the canopy and cringe with every loud clang of metal-on-metal.
  • A rock. A big, flat, 20 pound rock that I saw one day and thought, “this would be really good to hold down the canopy insert” … which of course, never happened because I forgot it was in there. And it never dawned on me to look with every campsite move, even though I would always think, “GEEZUS, what the hell is in here?” when I picked it up because it was so damned heavy!
  • Three crushed packages of ramen noodles. Yes, they were right under the rock.

That is what I had been hauling around for months. Needless to say, the bin is now empty. One less thing I have to worry about on move day. I don’t know what it originally contained. It must have been something that was consumed along the way, like paper towels or canned goods or something. I kept the rock …  I think it might be a good thing to use to hold down the canopy insert someday.  : o)

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The newly cleaned out galley, ready for use

Next came the cooler. I hadn’t been using it that much as of late because I had gotten into the habit of eating out of cans. I took out the few things that were there and gave the inside a good scrubbing with bleach and hot water. It’s now as good as new and packed with eggs, hamburger meat, hot dogs, and 4 beers of the homemade variety. More on that to follow.

Finally, I tackled the galley. I haven’t been using it. Not at all! When I bought food, I just left it out on the camp table. And when I moved, I just threw whatever was on the table into the cabin of the Nutshell, loose.

That’s not the case now. I organized the galley … which in reality is nothing more than two shelves for storage … so that I don’t have to just throw things into the cabin on move day. The top shelf has my one pot and frying pan, the electric skillet, and hot plate, some bowls and plates. The lower shelf, which has more height than the upper one, was divided in half. I put appliances on the left, including the coffee maker, electric kettle, heater and fan. The right hand side holds all my non-perishable food. Right now it has cans of beans and pasta; some packages of rice; soup, both canned and boxed; condiments; and a glass measuring cup with my cooking utensils and miscellaneous other things in it. Like a cheese slicer. A cheese slicer that I bought new two years ago in Charleston and have never. Once. Used.

Larry suggested that since we just passed our 2-year anniversary, a good topic for a blog post would be, “Things I didn’t know that I didn’t know.” In other words, things that I would have done differently had I the benefit of foreknowledge. One of the biggest things I would have done different is I would have packed a hell of a lot less than what I did! Like a cheese slicer. Seriously – I’m going to dirty up a cheese slicer, that is a pain in the ass to clean even in a kitchen, instead of just using my paring knife to cut off a hunk of cheese to eat? Or the set of 16 Tupperware knock-offs that are now down to three, with only two lids? Don’t even ask! There. I just eliminated the need for that post! I’m on a mission to minimalize! LOL

Anyhow, I got all that done towards the end of my last full week at Timothy Lake South,PA. Just in time for some company.

On Sunday, an old classmate from Pompton Lakes came out to the campground. Actually, John lives less than 15 minutes away, in the Poconos. And when I say old classmate, I mean the “original” classmate for all intent and purposes. When I moved to Pompton Lakes in the middle of second grade, John was the first kid I spoke with. He asked me if I knew where the cafeteria was and walked me down there come lunch time. At recess, he showed me the ropes, per se. Where everybody hung out. Who in his estimation the good guys were and who weren’t. We sat and visited for a few hours before he had to leave. While he was there, though, he told me that at one point he and his wife had an RV. That they were avid campers, although most of it was in tents when his kids were in the Scouts. And that when he retires, he and his wife have talked about doing what Frank and I are doing. John, if that happens, I hope you let me know. I’d love to camp next to you and the Mrs!

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The Cornerstone guys: Front, Bob and Lou; Back, Tom, me, and Gary

The next day brought a visit that I was really looking forward to with a lot of anticipation. I don’t mean that as a slight to the other friends we’ve seen along the way. It’s just that this one was special in a different way.

Back when I lived in Wayne, I belong to a men’s group at my Parish. It was called Cornerstone and there were six of us that more or less formed a core group. Four of them made it out to camp on Monday for dinner. (Ed, we missed you! Hopefully I make it back for another stop in or near New Jersey and we can all have another visit when you can attend.)

You know how you can identify good friends? You can be apart from each other for years and when you get back together, you just start back into conversing as if you had never been separated at all! That’s the way it was with Gary, Lou, Bob, and Tom. We talked about everything from our vagabond journey, to the Yankees and Red Sox, to a little bit of Parish news, and I don’t know what else. It was fantastic! They even brought some bottles of the beer they all get together and brew at a do-it-yourself place in New Jersey. I have to admit, it’s pretty damn good beer!

That was it for all the visits. Frank and I packed up on Wednesday morning and drove 4 hours north to the Lake George Escape Campground. We’re not actually on the lake itself … that’s a few miles away. Instead, we’re on the Shroon River. Plus, there’s a little stocked pond that is right behind our campsite. Haven’t done any fishing yet and I’m not sure if I will right now. We’ll see how it goes.

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Our set-up at Lake George Escape Campground (after escaping the Bogs of Mordor)

We had a little bit of an issue coming into the camp. This is one of the Encore parks that I was given as a spiff when we signed the Thousand Trails contract. I didn’t think anything of it, but what I’ve learned is that the Encore Parks set aside a limited number of campsites for the Thousand Trails clients. And when I got to mine, I wondered if there was a feud going on between the two companies. My campsite look like the bogs that Gollum led Frodo and Sam through on the way to Mordor!

Half the campsite was covered with standing water and almost another quarter of it was mud. And as I sat there looking at the other nearby campsites, I realize that there was standing water everywhere!

When I returned to the office to let them know this wasn’t going to work, the woman’s response was, “Yes, we’ve had quite a bit of rain” … said with a sympathetic shrug and grimace, but from her standpoint, that was the extent of what she was going to offer as a conciliatory gesture!

That’s when I found out that they expected me to stay in that one little water-logged area because that’s where all the Thousand Trails campsites were. It took about a half-hour discussion before someone finally agreed to let me stay in another area of the park.

Frank and I have a great campsite now! It’s relatively nice size, and we’re backed up to the pond I mentioned earlier. There’s a little bit of an issue with mosquitoes here right now. I went out and bought a couple of citronella torches along with some citronella pots for the table. They seem to be doing the trick – it doesn’t seem to be as bad as it was before we picked up the citronella stuff. I also have some Deep Woods Off, but I don’t want to use that until I absolutely have to. As an aside, I can only imagine with the mosquitoes would have been like over in the bogs of Mordor. I’m grateful that someone had the wherewithal to allow us to move.

(Take a listen to what it sounds like around here when there aren’t any motorcycles)

Unbeknownst to Frank and me, we picked a hell of a time to visit the Lake George area. This week, it played host to The Americade motorcycle rally! Now any other day of the year, Warrensburg’s population is a little under 4,500. Not this week – they estimated over 30,000 bikers came in for the rally. And this was everything from your John Travolta / Tim Allen weekender “Road Hogs” to hardcore clubbers. For the last few nights, the only thing louder than the toads and birds at the campsite was the roar of the motorcycle engines during the “Let’s see who can rev their engine the loudest” contest. One thing I’m grateful for – everyone here pretty much obeyed the rules. At about 10:30, everything died down and by 11:00, all I could hear were those toads and birds.

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As of this afternoon, our loop is completely empty!

And today? Everybody’s gone! Literally. Frank and I are the only campers on this loop. I haven’t ventured out to see what the other loops are like. It’ll be interesting to see what’s what when Frank and I visit the dog park at the other end of the camp tomorrow morning.

Oh yeah. At the beginning of this post, I referenced Nirvana. For the last three days, the weather has been absolutely magnificent! Today is the best so far! Temps in the low 80s, with a little bit of a wind … just enough where I didn’t have to get the fan out to cool down a bit. And there hasn’t been a cloud in the sky all day until right now, about 7:30 p.m. but even now, it’s nice out. No need for a fleece. (Now  would be a good time to bring up that rock again … except as rocks go, it wasn’t all that grungy.)

Frank has been enjoying the sun, too. He’s been outside most afternoons, either sunning or lying next to me under the canopy. I’ll take a few more days like this, thank you very much. Before we know it, we’re going to be in the middle of the sweltering heat of a New England summer. So I’m grateful for days like today.

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Frank missed an opportunity to say hello to the butterfly that was scoping him out.

So that’s it for now. Oh yeah except for one other thing. I finally had some mail delivered and it was waiting when we arrived here on Wednesday. And what was in it? My ordination papers! I am now a certified Dudeist priest in the Church of the Latter-Day Dude! More on that in our next blog entry.

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Connecting with my inner Dude

Suffice it to say, Frank and I are abiding quite well. Even the occasional nihilist has done little to affect our serenity. About the only thing I’m missing is a rug to really tie everything together. This worn-out old tent carpet we’ve been using is … well, pretty close to worn out!

And for any of you who might cast a bit of negativity towards the life philosophy we’ve come to embrace, all I can say is, “Well, that’s like, your opinion man!”      : o)

 
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Posted by on June 11, 2017 in Musings, Travels

 

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Happy Anniversary!

Two years.

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Launch day, 5/31/2015

Two years ago today, Frank and I left everything behind and drove away from our apartment in Charleston, SC.  I was despondent, wracked with anxiety, and totally unsure as to how long it would be before I would give up and chuck this life into the ocean off Big Sur.

Never in my wildest dreams did I expect what what was going to happen next! What has happened.

Since putting Charleston in our rear-view mirror, here’s what’s happened to my Chief Navigator and me – we have:

  • Stayed at 43 campgrounds in 18 states
  • Visited a total of 24 states
  • Put a total of about 34,000 miles on the car
  • Lost two tents to storms
  • Acquired the Nutshell, the teardrop trailer that’s our current home on the road
  • Visited three emergency rooms for diverticulitis, a leg infection, and a crushed finger
  • Returned to Texas for what was feared to be a heart problem and got a clean bill of health
  • Dealt with extreme weather conditions from oppressive heat to freezing cold to floods, thunder, lightning, hail, tornadoes, and hurricane-force winds
  • Had memorable encounters with deer, squirrel, rabbits, ducks, a bobcat, owls, hair-stealing birds, lizards, snakes, armadillo, and an East Texas toad
  • Been mistaken for Santa Claus and a biker named Danny Hoffler
  • Witnessed an untold number of people helping out their fellow man

(Our second tent  in the process of being damaged, December 2015)

Frank had his little escapade as well. While I was in a hospital having a test, he decided he was going to go looking for me and did his best MacGyver impersonation to escape his kennel. He somehow unlocked his crate, climbed a chair and a couple of boxes, pushed out a piece of plywood next to a window air conditioning unit, and escaped through a hole in a fence that none of the other dogs would normally be able to get to. Nearly two days later, he and I were reunited when he miraculously stepped out of some scrub brush and sat down on the side of the road like he was waiting for a bus … just as I happened to be driving down that road, heading back to camp after giving up searching for him that day. Oh yeah, over 12 miles away from the kennel … in the opposite direction from our camp site.  That was just one of the more memorable experiences over the past two years. But that’s not the only miracle we were blessed with.

Along the way, I was also able to shed a lifetime of depression and anxiety. It took a whole lot of writing therapy, prayer, meditation, encouragement and support from friends … and a little sign that stayed on my dashboard for about six months that read simply, “It’s all worked out before. Trust it to work out again.”  I’ve written about a good portion of the process involved in my healing.

Through the blog, we’ve shared each of these experiences with you all, pretty much in real time as they were happening.

We’ve also included a bit of travelog; campground reviews;  and stories about some of the people we’ve encountered, ranging from funny to poignant to downright spiritual! And I’ve appreciated your forbearance as I’ve reflected on a few current events while trying to put them into the perspective of our travels.

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You’re spending  too much time on my laptop, Frank!

Frank’s been a big part of this, too. If you’ve been here from the beginning, then you’re familiar with our daily fights over sleeping accommodations. You know about his penchant for picnic tables, his love for Blood Sweat and Tears and his hatred of emergency sirens (funny how he expresses both love and hate the same way: howling). And you’ve seen the degree of sneakiness he can muster when it comes to grabbing $7 chicken breasts off the camp table when I’m not looking. You even know his picks in the last three NCAA basketball tourneys.

This Vagabond Journey would not be even remotely enjoyable if Frank hadn’t come along for the ride. It wouldn’t have been possible without the loving support of dear friends all along the way, too. And it wouldn’t be anywhere near as fulfilling if it wasn’t for the folks that have been reading along on the blog and sharing their comments with us. I’m so very grateful that we have touched some of your lives in a meaningful way.

It’s nowhere near done, by the way. The road trip, I mean. Any thought of driving off a cliff at Big Sur has long since gone. We haven’t even seen half the country yet! Hell, even after we finish up our planned travels along the west coast next year, there’s still the northern Rockies, the Plains states, and the Great Lakes region that we haven’t come anywhere near. So I hope you continue to follow along on the continuing Adventures of Frank and Jeff.

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Keep on Smilin’

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As mentioned in our last post, Frank and I are staying at Timothy Lake North Campground, right next to the Delaware Water Gap, on the Pennsylvania side. We’ve been here about a week and a half now, and have another week to go before we continue to head north.

It was a little bit crazy over Memorial Day weekend, with a lot of rowdy neighbors. To be honest, I’m proud of myself that I was able to refrain from approaching a couple of them about some of their late night partying. But I was able to let it go.

Frank had a good time. There was a family from New York that camped next to us, with two boys age 9 and 14. Chris and Greg spent almost all their time over here playing with Frank. And he loved every minute of it! They left early Sunday afternoon and Frank spent the next three hours lying under the Nutshell, staring wistfully at the place where their tent had been.

We had a chance to visit with old friends in the area, too. We spent last Thursday morning and afternoon in Pompton Lakes, having lunch with some dear classmates from long ago. We have more visits on tap between now and when we leave next Wednesday.

About the only downside has been the weather. It just isn’t cooperating! Today is the first day since shortly after we arrived that we haven’t had to deal with rain and cold temps. I sort of thought by now that we’d at least be out of the cold. I know from our experiences over the last 2 years that we’re not going to escape rain. But the cold? Give me a freakin’ break! I’m close to becoming a climate change denier. Where’s this global warming everyone keeps talking about?  : o)

That’s it for now. Frank and I will touch back in before we head out to Lake George, NY, our next stop. I cannot pbelieve how fast this year has gone by.

 

And I’ve come to roam the forest past the village
With a dozen lazy horses and my cart
I’ve come here to get high
To do more than just get by
I’ve come to test the timbre of my heart
Oh, I’ve come to test the timber of my heart

And I’ve come to be untroubled in my seeking
And I’ve come to see that nothin is for naught
I’ve come to reach out blind
To reach forward and behind
For the more I seek, the more I’m sought
Yeah, the more I seek, the more I’m sought

Joe Pugg, Hymn 101

 

 
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Posted by on May 31, 2017 in Musings, Travels

 

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Pennsylvania, Round Two

When we made our last post, Frank and I were about to head into Pennsylvania. We’ve actually moved on to our second campground in the Keystone State. We are now at the Timothy Lake North RV campground, on the Pennsylvania side of the Delaware Water Gap.

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Our setup at Timothy Lake North RV Campground

This wasn’t quite where we intended to be. We had reservations at the other Thousand Trails campground on Timothy Lake. But when we got there, it seemed that none of the sites were really going to work for our little setup. They were more geared towards bigger RVs, long and narrow. They were so narrow in fact,  that we would have had a hard time setting up the canopy while leaving enough room to walk around it without stepping out into bushes in overgrowth. Fortunately, the staff was really cool and when I told them about my concern, they suggested I try the other campground located just a mile or so up the road.  if we found a site up there that we liked,  we could simply switch her reservation without any impact on our departure date.

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Our view of the sunset through the woods

Sure enough, we found a great site at the top of a hill … a corner site where two roads intersect. We’ve got plenty of room here and we were able to set things up where, instead of looking at other RVs, we’re looking at woods.

Woods. I love them! And I’m not talking about forestland. Unless you have spent time in the Northeast, you and I probably have a different idea of what that word represents. There’s something different about the woods where I grew up compared to other places I’ve lived like Texas, Colorado, or California.

There aren’t a lot of pine trees like in the west, nor is there a lot of scrub like what you see in the south. It was a conglomeration of oak and tulip trees, maple and birch.  You can pick your way through the woods without feeling pressed in, like I sometimes felt walking through coastal redwood forests where I used to camp in California or the pine forests in Colorado. There’s an open canopy that lets light through, but it’s more dense and higher than woodlands I’ve seen in the Texas.

When I was growing up in New Jersey, I lived in two towns that had woods. In Waldwick, where we lived until I was halfway through second grade, our house was surrounded by them until builders started to develop the neighborhood. And in Pompton Lakes, the whole southern edge of town was woods until developers came in and tore them down, too.

I used to enjoy them quite a bit as a kid. They provided an escape. I could walk back in the woods and before you knew it, it was if I had left everything behind. In Waldwick, I could take 100 steps out my backdoor and I wouldn’t even be able to see our house! In retrospect, everything seems bigger when you’re a kid, so going “deep into the woods” was probably the equivalent of walking a couple of blocks. But that didn’t matter. Perspective, right?

In Pompton Lakes, there were woods a half block away from the house. All you had to do was walk to the end of the block, cut through the side yards of a couple of neighbors and there you were. They stretched all the way along the river and ended across the street from my elementary school.

There was a path ride along the river that we sometimes took as a shortcut to school, but I used to like to get off the path and head into the trees. When I was nine or ten, I built a fort back in there. Nothing fancy – I had found a place where there was a stand of trees real close together with a single opening. I found some big limbs that still had leaves on them and propped them up to form a sort of door. And once I got in there, people could … and did … walk right by me and without knowing I was there.

I used that fort many times as an escape. Especially when my father was on one of his whiskey binges, or just in one of his moods, where I knew that if I hung around, it would just be a matter of time before I did something to piss him off and I’d get beaten. I’d take comics or Hardy Boy books in there and spend entire afternoons reading. When I wasn’t reading, I would imagine that I was a pioneer and this was my fortress from the Indians. I made a chair out of an old stump and fixed up a table using fallen branches I had gathered.

So I guess I have some romantic attachment to woods. And the couple of times we’ve come to Pennsylvania on this vagabond journey, I think I felt that same sense of familiarity. Of security. Funny how it was last year, sitting riverside at the campground in Lancaster, looking out into the woods across the water, that I finally found a sense of peace.

I think Frank likes it here, too. Whereas most days he spends his time sleeping in the Nutshell, he’s been outside every afternoon since we arrived, even when it’s been sprinkling a bit. His nose is always going. Plus, instead of just sitting in front of me doing his watchguard thing, he’ll test the limit of his lead when it’s not been raining. Sometimes he’s oblivious to me watching him … he’ll go as far as he can, walk around to the other side of the canopy, sit down, and then just start turning his head in all directions. His nose will be up in the air and it’s just going a mile a minute! I’ve taken him on a couple of walks since we arrived … between raindrops. It doesn’t matter where we are, we just don’t seem to be able to escape rain!

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Gettysburg Farm RV Campground

Frank had a closing counter with nature at our last stop, Gettysburg Farm RV campground in Dover, PA, about 25 minutes north of the battlefield. We were only there for 5 days – it was a timing thing in order to set our reservations up for the summer holidays. Long story – suffice it to say that Thousand Trails has some restrictions on the number of your open holiday reservations at any one time, and the 5-day stopover solved a problem I thought I was going to have between Memorial Day and the 4th of July. As it turns out, the problem went away when I accepted an invitation from Michael, another Thousand Trails camper who we met in Florida. I’ve mentioned before. He spends his summers in New Hampshire and we’ll be staying with him for a few days over the 4th of July holiday.

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Gettysburg Farm, where city kids can spend Summer vacationworking their asses off! LOL

Nevertheless, I’m glad we stopped at Gettysburg Farm. It’s an actual farm, where kids get to work with animals during the summer. We had a really nice campsite there, too. It was more open than where we’re at now, but we still had plenty of trees around us. Plus we had some really great neighbors. There were some nice visits with a number of folks that would stop by. I’m not sure if the draw is the Nutshell, which stands out as being unique amongst all the big RVs; Frank, who charms everyone wherever he goes; or the sight of the old guy with the beard relaxing in his camp chair with his four-legged companion sitting on his lap. The beard is gone by the way. I had it shaved at a barber shop while I was there. I have to admit that I’m not wild about how I look clean shaven. But I’m pretty sure it’s the right thing to do going into the Summer heat and humidity. Besides, it’ll be back at full length by the time Fall rolls around.

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Yep … sans my beard of 2 1/2 years

Anyhow, back to Frank and his Close Encounter of the Nature Kind …

The Nutshell was set up right underneath a tree at Gettysburg Farm. And an owl decided that tree was an ideal place from which to signal his friends. And with his first screech, around 8 pm on our second night there, Frank lunged out of the Nutshell’s cabin and with one bound was at the end of his lead, looking all around. It was the exact same reaction he had to the emergency signals we heard from NAS Oceana while at First Landing State Park in Virginia. Only this time, the screech had stopped by the time he was out there to look.

I have to say it’s the best 4-legged Vincent LaGuardia Gambini impersonation I have ever seen! Frank came back and jumped up on my lap with a look that screamed, “What the f**k was THAT!?!?!?” The only things that were missing was a woof with a Brooklyn accent and a pistol in his right paw!

Then the owl went off again. And Frank nearly did a somersault trying to vault off my lap. He couldn’t get out there fast enough! And it went on two more times. It was almost as if the owl was telling his buddies, “Hey, watch what I can do to this four-legged thing on the ground!”

Frank finally camped out under the tree, realizing that the sound was coming from somewhere above him. And as soon as he heard it … and saw where it was coming from … he started howling!

We didn’t hear the owl after that. I hollered out to Frank, “Way to go, buddy! You scared that thing off. Good dog!”

And with that, Frank came running back and jumped up on my lap, grinning and feeling like he was every bit the hot shit he thinks he is. I couldn’t help but laugh and every time I did, Frank would turn around and start licking my face. Pretty funny. I think that’s the happiest I’ve seen him since that day at Flagler Beach when he had such a good time playing in the surf.

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Flagler Beach, FL back in March …  I love this photo of French so much that I had to share it again!

I take that back. Frank had a really good time a couple of nights later. I got a call from Rena, a friend we made through the Teardrop Camper Group on Facebook. She lives in Delaware and came out to visit us last year when we were camped in Lancaster. Anyhow, the Tearjerker chapters from Pennsylvania and Maryland were holding a joint get together at a state park about 30 minutes away from where we were camping. Rena was attending and invited the two of us over for the Saturday evening potluck. It was our chance to meet the new addition to her family – Tucker, a cute little 1 year old puppy.

Frank and Tucker got along great! Tucker would stand on his back legs and put his front paws on Frank’s shoulders. Frank would then get down on his belly and do a quick roll to throw Tucker off. And they did that over and over. He loves being around dogs that are close to his size. There were two other beagles at the potluck, too, so Frank had quite the little get together. And I had a chance to visit with Rena again while making some new friends. Good times, all around.

Up here it Timothy Lake, I had my own close encounter with nature. Well, not quite so close, but it was close enough as far as I was concerned. I’ve gotten up a little earlier than usual the last two mornings – about 4:30, where I normally get up between 5:00 and 5:15. And this whippoorwill was going at it non-stop. I mean he was making what seemed like 50 calls a minute, nonstop for over an hour and a half. I had to delay my meditation time both mornings because he was so intrusive. Being one with nature is one thing. But this? I posted on my Facebook wall …

“I’m pretty close to finding out what Whippoorwill stew taste like!”

Imagine 5,000 of these calls in a row. I kid you not!

That’s it for now. Later this morning, we’re driving into Pompton Lakes to have lunch with a few old friends from high school, before which I’ll stop by the school and make a small cast donation to a scholarship fund that was set up in the name of one of our classmates, who passed away suddenly a few months ago. Sam returned to Pompton after graduating from college and became a beloved English teacher. He was one of the good guys. And while I don’t have a lot, I want to at least give something of what I do have as a way of remembering him.


One last thing – you all have touched me very deeply over the last week or so. We received an outpouring of comments, private messages, and Facebook posts, expressing appreciation for the last blog entry “The Prison Sentence.” I am so very grateful to have been able to share something that was so well-received. I know you all have been entertained by our stories from the road, and that gladdens me to no end. But they’re just stories …  it’s an entirely different thing to have offered something that helped others as they bring themselves back from the pit of depression and guilt. It means that something good came out of the suffering that I’ve had to endure during my lifetime. That’s a blessing I wasn’t expecting. And it means more than I can adequately express in words. Thank you for that.

 
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Posted by on May 25, 2017 in Musings, Travels

 

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The Prison Sentence

It’s been a long while since I’ve specifically talked about why Frank and I live the vagabond lifestyle today. I had a recent conversation with someone though, and felt it might be good to talk about it. Besides, I’ve been tagging my blog posts with phrases like “depression”, “anxiety”, “PTSD”, and the like. And continue to do so despite the fact that a lot of recent posts either don’t address those subjects anymore or only address them in passing.  

I’ve pictured some people who come to the blog via one of those particular tags and start thinking, “What the hell?”

Sure, they could go to the original “About” page and learn about the symptoms I had when I started this blog, and some of what was going on back then. But unless they were to go back and read through earlier posts, there hasn’t been much here lately to directly address those subjects.

I have been a long time sufferer from what was diagnosed as complex-PTSD, the result of more than a decade of horrible physical and mental abuse as a child. The primary symptoms I experienced were depression and anxiety. They manifested themselves in many ways, such as: low self-esteem; overeating; an inability to open up and trust others, especially in relationships; a belief that I was an imposter at work, combined with a fear of failure; OCD things, like having to go back and check lights to make sure they were turned off (sometimes locking and unlocking my office door as many as 10 times before I could leave); the need for the more than occasional thrill, whether it was speeding, unnecessary risk taking, or cocaine abuse; nightmares and night-time sweats; and suicide ideation. It’s not an exaggeration to say that I probably spent 4-5 years where I woke up every day wondering if that was the day I was going to “do it”.

The one symptom that I’d like to address, though, is guilt. It’s not one of the things you necessarily think about when it comes to PTSD, but if you’re like me, it manifests itself in a significant way.

I’ve spent a good portion of my life feeling overwhelming guilt. I think it comes about because when you’re abused as a kid, you tend to think of it as being your fault. I know I did. I’m a pretty smart guy, and I was a pretty smart kid, too. So when one gets beaten for something they did, you would think the intelligent thing to do when facing the same situation again, is to do exactly the opposite, right? Well, that’s what I’d do. The problem though, was that it didn’t work!

Here’s a tiny example. You start getting yelled at, so you try to explain yourself. What happens? You get beaten for talking back.  So the next time you’re getting yelled at, you logically think that the best thing to do is to keep your mouth shut. Only this time, you get hit because you were supposed to reply.

If that happens enough times, it can pull a real mind fuck on you! After a while, when you start feeling like it doesn’t matter what you do. You start to believe that it’s your fault. You shut down. And when there is no positive reinforcement to counter the negative, you begin to feel worthless.

It’s one thing to feel that as a kid, but it reinforces the same thinking as an adult, with dire results. Your first reactions to bad situations are affected. You stay in bad relationships longer than you should. You stay at bad jobs long after other people would quit. You question your own  decisions  constantly. And you live under constant stress because whenever something goes wrong, your first reaction is to feel responsible. Whether you are or not!

That’s not to say I don’t have things I’ve done for which I should feel guilt or responsibility. Everybody does. But when you feel that way about everything, it’s hard to separate out the justifiable ones from the noise. And you carry the burden with you much longer than you should, justified or not.

Anyhow, guilt was probably the hardest thing for me to overcome. It was certainly the last major symptom I had to deal with to get to where I’m at today.

It was something I used to talk about a lot with my buddy Larry. He would do his damnedest to get me to see that I needed to let go of things. And that was regardless of whether the “thing” was or wasn’t my fault, or perhaps was only partially my responsibility. And I spent the vast majority of those conversations arguing against myself.

We were in another of those discussions early last spring. It was about something that is very personal to me. When I started the blog. I made the decision that I wouldn’t talk about it. Maybe someday, but not now. But it’s something for which I have felt almost unbearable guilt for a long time. I’ll just say it involves a family relationship with an extremely bad outcome, and leave it at that.

For whatever reason, Larry took a different tact during this particular conversation.

“Okay. Let’s say that it’s your responsibility. What type of sentence do you want to give yourself?” I didn’t understand what he meant, so he went on.

“People commit crimes, they get sentenced to jail. But when a court hands down a sentence, that’s it. They serve their time and are then released. They are considered to have ‘served their debt to society’.

Sometimes they get out early for good behavior, sometimes they’re placed on parole. But there’s an end to it. It doesn’t change what they did. It doesn’t change the past. But they get to move on with their life. Their life changes as a result of what happened, obviously. But they get to move on the best that they can.

Now I know that you believe in justice, Jeff. You care about people not being treated harshly. You believe In fairness. You’ve been the judge, jury, and prosecutor here. So what type of sentence do you want to give yourself? Be fair now. And after that, are you willing to accept that once it’s over, you can let yourself out of the prison that you’ve put yourself in?”

You know, that reached me! For the first time in my adult life, I had something to consider that took the emphasis away from guilt and put it on something else. I don’t remember what I said to Larry at that point, except that I would consider what he said. But this was a way I hadn’t looked at things before and I needed to think about it more.

That little talk occupied my thoughts for at least the next couple of weeks. To be honest, a part of me did everything it could to tear that argument apart. But it couldn’t. The simple fact is that it just made sense no matter how I looked at.

It no longer mattered whether I was guilty or not. My conscience was the jury and had already convicted me. Whether it was fair … or not … was also no longer an issue.  The verdict had been rendered and was in. But now, the Court was back in session – this time to deliberate on the sentence.

How much longer was I going to hold myself in jail? My self-imposed guilt had lasted for almost 20 years. Murderers had been released in less time! So with that in mind, the Court came to a decision. The sentence would be … time served.

Nothing really changed. Like I said before, the past is the past. What happened, happened. But in the mind of “the Court”, I could now go on. I’m still living the consequences of my sentence, of course. While I was in “jail”, I lost a relationship that meant the world to me. I lost a job. And all of the property and material things I had accumulated were gone.

But I was free to move on. And make the best out of the life I have remaining.

The conversation stayed with me. Over the next couple of months, I thought about it less and less. But it  was definitely still in the back of my mind as I went on and made plans for the rest of 2016.

In late May, Frank and I were camped next to a river in Lancaster, PA.  Since that conversation with Larry and the ensuing two weeks, we had gone through a whirlwind of activity. We had travelled from Texas to California and back, picking up the Nutshell. Spent a month visiting friends in Dallas. Gone up to Colorado to see more friends and then back across more than half the country to Lancaster. And it was the first time in a long while where we really had time to stop and relax.

Anyhow, I was up early doing my morning meditation and prayer as usual. I typically get up before dawn. I like to watch the beginnings of the day – how the world gradually comes alive as the sun rises. And sitting there looking at that slowly flowing river as first light appeared, I realized that I was at peace. Letting it sink in for a while, it “dawned” on me that I hadn’t felt that way in my entire adult life. But there was no mistaking it. I felt totally at peace.

The thought then came about how  I almost served a death sentence.  How  I was ready to do myself in before starting out a year earlier.  Hell,  I was still looking at eventual suicide as  the likely outcome  when I drove away from Charleston in May 2015. But that expectation had totally left me now. And I broke down in tears.

In the year that’s gone by since that morning, I can honestly say that peace has never left me. Sure there have been some things I’ve had to deal with that have caused anxiety. But the anxiety has been event-specific, and that sense of peace has remained throughout … as each of those anxiety-provoking things were handled, the peace returned.

At the beginning of this post, I mentioned that I had a conversation that spurred me to write about this. When I was at the Tearjerkers event at First Landing State Park the weekend after Easter, I met a fellow named Kenny.  He had arrived in a 50 year old camper that he had restored and stopped by to visit a few times over the weekend.

Kenny is a substance abuse counselor at a VA Hospital in West Virginia. He had shared a little about his life before embarking on that career, and how it had helped him in dealing with some of the vets he was now working with. And for whatever reason, I felt moved to share my “courtroom” story with him.

It moved Kenny, too. He said it was something he had never heard put quite that way, and that he knew of guys he’d seen who would definitely benefit from that perspective. He then said that if I didn’t mind, he wanted to borrow it to use in his counseling. He even said he intended to share it with other counselors, he liked it so much!

Of course I told him that he was free to use it! After all, it wasn’t mine to begin with, that it came from a friend. Kenny, if you happen to be reading this, I hope that the analogy has been put to good use since we last saw each other a few weeks ago.

Some people believe that you’re here on Earth for one particular purpose. I remember seeing a friend in Dallas last April. I had worked for her husband at a gas station while in high school. She said something along those lines to me one morning when Frank and I were visiting their home … that I had been kept from suicide because I hadn’t yet done what God had put me on Earth to do.

I don’t know that I believe that. That we’re here for a specific purpose, other than just working out our individual lives. But if that’s the case, a part of me would like to think that my purpose was served by giving Kenny something that he and his fellow counselors will put to good use helping others. Finding peace is something that everybody should do!

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Frank and I head out tomorrow to Pennsylvania. I should put the following in a macro, so I don’t have to keep typing it : “it’s hard to believe it’s already time for us to leave this place.”

Bad weather’s kept us from doing all the sightseeing we wanted to while staying in Williamsburg. We did get to drive down to Jamestown and to Yorktown, but didn’t get to do a lot of exploring because of the rain. Nevertheless, we had a great time here. On to Pennsylvania!

 
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Posted by on May 15, 2017 in Musings, Travels

 

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Mid April Reflections

We’ve come and gone from Myrtle Beach State Park and are now situated next to beautiful Lake Gaston, on the border between North Carolina and Virginia. We’re on the North Carolina side.

When I say this place is heavenly, I mean that this setting is what I sometimes envision heaven to look like. Without all the RV’s. Although you figure even in heaven, everyone’s got to live somewhere, right? So why not an RV? Except maybe in heaven, everyone gets to have a beautiful, unobstructed view like I have right now.

I’ll soon post about the wonderful time we’ve had over the last few days, staying in some wonderful settings and enjoying some good times with a couple of friends. I’ll include some photos. But I wanted to post about something else today.

This morning, Robin … another friend from the teardrop camper group … mentioned on Facebook that she was just returning from a three-day camping trip and how, “women that camp are down to earth wonderful people.”

It really got me to thinking about the people we’ve met while camping. You know, I’ll bet that Frank and I have met and spoken with over 1,000 fellow campers. It ranges from exchanging pleasantries as people walked by all the way up to deep  conversations  that could only be had while sitting in the camp chair.

These are people from all walks of life. Some were in little pup tents while others were in RVs that had to cost $300,000! And everything in between. Campers who would go home to cities, suburbs, and out-of-the-way places.

Some were retired seniors and others were young adventurers. There were traditional families, kids camping with favorite aunts and uncles, big family reunions, single men and women, and partners in relationships – gay and straight.

There were people who liked rock and rap and country and classical and alternative and just about any other type of music you can come up with … and there a couple of times when I was reminded that you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover when people surprised me with musical preferences that ran opposite their looks.

I even ran into a few old retired farts like me, but not like me. All having different reasons why they’re living this lifestyle. Those were some of my favorites, although I will admit to the possibility of a little bias. : o)

And all those above? They were pretty much every ethnicity, political ideology and spiritual belief you can think of.

With all that said, it seemed like none of those differences mattered because all anyone seemed to see was a fellow camper. That sounds a bit cliche, I know. Sure, it’s easy to get along when everybody’s relaxed and away from the office and having a good time. That could be part of the reason why everybody got along. It’s possible.

Except what I saw wasn’t people being “nice” to one another just because they were kicking back having a few beers. I saw campers reach out and genuinely offer help without any thought of identity differences. Help might have been  anything from setting up a tent, to backing a car up to a hitch, to saying, “I’m going in the town. Is there anything you need?” All for pretty much total strangers.

They never showed anything but respect for their fellow campers. And they shared freely of their food, drink, and laughter. That goes well beyond niceties. It demonstrates a basic goodness. To witness that is a blessing.

Obviously there are the exceptions that prove the rule.  But I can probably count on one hand the number of asshole campers I’ve encountered. The ones who stuck out from the others like a sore thumb. Or the number of times I witnessed someone being a jerk to another camper, for whatever reason the bad encounter occurred.

And I  would probably have fingers left over.

I had a momentary twinge of sadness when I thought about that for a while this morning, recalling my mental state the month before I started out three years ago..

I remember back then, when my view of my fellow man was clouded by limited contact with people in the real world. When all my business was conducted over the phone or through email. And any other contact was either through Facebook or political chat threads. I had a few friends that I spoke with on the phone every now and then, but that was all.

But when you come out of isolation, things change. Over the past two years, I’ve met so many great folks. I’ve been trying to think of just a few of them to mention here, but there have been so many examples that it’s simply too difficult to mention only a few without mentioning them all! I’ve talked about most of them here in the blog. Click on any month at random from the index over on the right hand side and you’ll read about them. They have all contributed to the restoration of my  belief that there are way more good people in the world than bad.

It wasn’t the people that had changed. Any changes that happened? They were all inside me, my perceptions, my triggers and my biases. So that’s why I had that  flash of sadness (which hung around for all of 30 seconds and was gone as quickly as it came – another change). I had allowed my vision to become so clouded. And my outlook  to become so cynical. And my faith in mankind to have been replaced by hopelessness. That’s not hyperbole. I felt completely hopeless when I started this journey. It began out of desperation.

But on Easter Sunday, I celebrate my 2nd birthday on the road. I think that’s why I wanted to take a few minutes to reflect a bit on the journey.  And on the blessings I never expected to find. Funny, but all I had to do to find these particular ones was open my eyes and look.

 
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Posted by on April 13, 2017 in Musings

 

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Back on Palmetto Time!

We’re back in South Carolina for the first since we started out from Charleston on this little vagabond journey almost two years ago. This time though, we’re at the totally opposite end of the Palmetto state.

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Our setup at Carolina Landing

We’ve been at the Carolina Landing RV campground, in Fair Play, SC, for a little over a week and a half. It’s another Thousand Trails campground … and if you’re keeping score, it’s another one in the “plus” column for them, as far as I’m concerned!

Speaking of that, I’ve decided to grade the overall experience with Thousand Trails. So far, I have to say I’m very impressed! But what I’m looking for may not be what others are looking for, so I’ve included an explanation at the end of this post as to how I’m grading these campgrounds.

We’ve had a really good time here, despite some weather issues. Yep, we just can’t get past the weather. We’ve had a couple of cold days, but that hasn’t been the problem in the grand scheme of things. I’ll talk about that later. The positive experiences come first.

We arrived a week ago Monday, after a pretty easy drive up from Flagler Beach. We stopped and spent most of Sunday night in a Walmart parking lot in Swainsboro, GA, a ways west of Savannah. I said most of the night – we tried sleeping in the car rather than taking everything out of the Nutshell. I woke up around 2:30 in the morning and decided to just start driving. We made it to Carolina Landing shortly after it opened and were set up by early afternoon.

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I love our view!

It actually took a little while to find a site. We had picked one out and started to set up there, but one of the maintenance crew came by and talked us out of it. He noted that if we did get any amount of rain, the runoff would go right through that site. So we wound up moving up the hill and to the side a little bit. And boy, am I grateful we took his suggestion. Again, more on that later.

I’m really excited about the next few months coming up on our journey. We’ve got plans to see quite a few friends between now and mid-July. It’s funny … we’ve been able to visit multiple times with the folks I grew up with in Dallas. But we’re finally coming to a point where we’re going to be able to see the contingent of “Joisey” friends now, too.

It started the day before we left Florida, when Jeanie stopped by for a visit. As I mentioned in the last post, she lived around the corner from my home in Pompton Lakes. Jeanie, as I write this, I’m looking out at my car, where this little solar powered flower is flapping its leaves in the sunlight. I think of you every time I look at it.

But I had two stints in New Jersey … the first growing up and the second when I returned as an adult in late 2001. Our next visitor came from my latter time in the Garden State..

Gary and I met at my last workplace in New Jersey. He was loosely affiliated with the company I worked for and shared an office with us. We became friends over that time, sharing more than a few deep conversations in addition to the office space, along with an appreciation for bad puns.

Gary moved out of his office long before I left New Jersey and wound up moving to the Atlanta area a couple of years ago. So when he came out on Tuesday, the day after we arrived, at least five years had passed since we saw each other.

It was a great visit! He had retired from his everyday business and was focused more seriously on what others might look at as a hobby – philately! It’s a bit more than that with Gary, though. Before he left New Jersey, he had been involved with a couple of major philately groups. He’s now in the process of writing a book about the overlap between the study of a country’s (or an area’s) stamps and the study of its general history.

We talked about that, along with a hodgepodge of other things. What I liked about it was that for the most part, the conversation was forward-looking. Sure, we told a couple of stories, but it wasn’t really reminiscing as much as just sharing new stuff.  We spent the afternoon that way, along with having some burgers and beer before Gary had to make his way back to Atlanta.

Several days later, on Saturday, we had our second visitor in camp. Quite honestly, I don’t remember how Mark and I met online. We spent a little time talking about it shortly after he arrived from Atlanta. He thinks he  first became acquainted with us through the blog, after which we became Facebook friends. I thought there might have been some direct association through a Facebook group or something along those lines. Regardless, we’ve been enjoying each other’s posts for probably a year now.

Mark and I are sort of kindred spirits … I don’t know if it’s a generational thing, the fact that we are both originally from the NYC area, that we share a similar political viewpoint, or that we have a mutual love for baseball. Regardless, we had a great visit while sharing some burgers and beverages.

Other than our two visits, the time here had been relatively uneventful until a couple of days ago. Remember  the weather? Well, we had a hell of a storm come through on Wednesday. The worst of it came through late that night, and I’ve got the video to prove it. We were pretty lucky because there were severe thunderstorm and tornado watches popping up all around us. The only one that impacted us was the last one.

Once that passed, we were visited by pretty high winds over the next couple of days. Frank opted to continue spending most of the time inside the Nutshell. He didn’t sleep the entire time the storms were going through and I think the wind was the last straw for him. He sat in my lap for a little while on Thursday morning, but finally decided to head back into the cabin and catch some z’s.

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Frank looks like he didn’t sleep at all during the storms. And he didn’t!

So that pretty much catches you all up to date on our travels. We head out tomorrow morning to continue our reunion tour. We’ll be camping for a few days at Myrtle Beach State Park, next to another longtime friend from Pompton Lakes, Val and her husband Bill. This will be our first time camping with a friend and I’m really looking forward to it.

 

 

 


Here’s our report card on the Thousand Trails experience to date. The ratings are based on a pretty simple idea – how close did the campground come to offering the experience I was hoping to get.

Campgrounds visited – 8
“What I was looking for” experience – 4
“Crowded but natural” experience – 2
“Made the best of it” experience – 2

I just realized this is my first report card release. I also realized that my grading system might not necessarily reflect the things that are important to other people.

Thousand Trails prides itself on offering a lot of amenities. They have things like swimming pools, activity centers, wash houses and laundry facilities. Some of them offer mini golf; a variety of other games like shuffleboard, tennis, or horseshoes;  scheduled activities such as movies, arts and crafts, and social hours; some even have on-site stores where you can buy groceries or other supplies.

Those things are nice, but with the exception of wanting a clean wash house and a place to do the laundry, I don’t really care about all that other stuff! I’ve enjoyed a few of the other things, but I look at them as niceties. The place isn’t going to get a bunch of extra rating points because of those. But because they’re available, I’m not going to fail any of these campgrounds. At a minimum, I feel like I can make due in any of them until one comes along that proves otherwise.

So with that in mind, here are my three grade definitions:

The “What I was looking for” experience

We’re camping. We’re out in nature, and not feeling as if we’re in the middle of a mobile home community for RVs.  It doesn’t feel like we are right on top of our neighbor. Someone else might be close by, but I don’t feel like it. There’s a certain rustic feel … it may not be the same throughout the entire Campground, but we’re in a section where I’m able to feel like I’m getting away from everything. To me, this is the equivalent of an “A” letter grade.

The four campgrounds I would put in this category are Circle M (Lancaster, PA); Lake Whitney (Whitney, TX); Peace River (Wauchula, FL); and this one, Carolina Landing (Fair Play, SC)

The “Crowded but natural” experience

In this case, it feels like we’re out in nature, but it’s compromised a little bit because someone is right on top of us. Or the park is just so damn big that you just can’t feel like you’re totally away from it all.  This is equivalent to a “B”

The two campgrounds in this category are Sea Pines (Swainton, NJ); and Orlando, FL.

The “Made the best of it” experience

Either you’re out in nature … crowded or otherwise … or not. In this category, you’re not! Either the place is equivalent to a mobile home park or you’re camping on concrete while staring at a bunch of RV’s instead of trees. This is a “C” in my book. (I’m not going to fail any of these places because even where we’ve had to make the best of it, the people have been incredible and the experience enriching. The other reason is because of money – unless I’m having to grin and bear it with the majority of locations, I’m going to be a happy camper simply because of the cost benefits of the membership.)

The two places I would put in this category are Lake Conroe (Willis, TX) and Three Flags (Wildwood, FL)

So as far the basic feel of the eight campgrounds we’ve visited so far, they’re averaging better than a “B”. That’s pretty damn good in my book.

What’s funny is that while Lake Conroe didn’t provide the environment I was looking for, it was probably one of the more enriching experiences we’ve had because of the people we encountered. In most every case, the experiences we’ve had with the surrounding campers has been an A+! So that’s even more of a reason to be happy with these places.

One last thing, and I think this is important if you’re thinking of using my ratings to decide if Thousand Trails is for you. You need to keep in mind that I’m living in a teardrop trailer. There’ve been sites we’ve used that a much larger RV wouldn’t have been able to access. In other cases, part of the rustic feel was because the roads were narrow and unpaved, or there might have been hills.

If you are traveling around in a teardrop, those things don’t mean as much. But if you’re in a big RV, you’re not going to be too happy dealing with hills, or narrow roads. Just keep that in mind. Oh yeah,  and if you are camping with kids, then you’re going to love all the amenities and activities! 

We’ll continue to add to the ratings as we go forward. We’re coming up on a stretch beginning in May where we’ll be visiting eight or nine Thousand Trails campgrounds in a row.  I’ll probably put out another report card around the 4th of July. And if you have any questions about any of these parks in the meantime, please feel totally free to send me a private message and I’ll be more than happy to give you whatever information I can.

One last thing – I’m not being paid or getting any special benefits for endorsing Thousand Trails. I just felt that needed to be said.

 
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Posted by on April 8, 2017 in Travels

 

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