I am in The Villages, Florida for the funeral of J’s brother. He died 29 March of complications of ALS. We spent the week driving down here. I am desperate to go home. I’ve been having an internal debate about the virtues and shortcomings of The Villages. I will say more later. Right now I am exhausted. I want to be home.

But we have the funeral and the drive home. I have been told we will spend two days driving back, through Atlanta, then Charlotte.

Let this end.

I don’t travel well. After Savannah, we drove down to St Augustine, Florida. It is a nice town, as tourist towns go. We ate at a seafood place last night called O. C. White Seafood. We had a nice meal at a fair price. I had Wahoo, J had shrimp in a cream sauce over linguini. The weather is still cool, a real blessing. The leaves are out down South, a couple of weeks ahead of Richmond

Sixty or so years ago, before Disney dominated Florida tourism, there were places like Cypress Gardens with water ski-ing shows and the glass bottom boat tours. There were alligator themed attractions and the Bok Bell Tower. We never went. But kitsch reigned. Now it is a different kitsch; consider Machine Gun World or Indoor Skydiving.

Tourists are different, I suppose. Last night at dinner a lesbian couple with their two children sat near us. They didn’t seem that much different from any other family, quite frankly. The tourists wear their tee-shirts and cargo shorts. Some wear hijabs. Most are obese.

Tourism is about convincing people to stay a while and spend some money. It started on a large scale at the turn of the Twentieth Century when large numbers of people began to have money to travel and experience something new, if only a Ferris Wheel at Coney Island.

When I began, I said I didn’t travel well. My life has structure built into it, swimming pools, grocery stores, a kitchen. When I am away from that structure, I am at loose ends. Even when I write this blog, I feel I am under different conditions, but the smartphone I use is the same. The stories I write are on hold. My imagination needs a space to, well, imagine.

Today involves driving to The Villages. Tomorrow is the funeral. Saturday and Sunday are for the drive home.

But right now, at 8:00 AM, I need more sleep.

I’m sitting in a motel room in Lumberton, North Carolina at 1:15 AM. (Eastern Time North America). We drove four hours from Richmond to arrive here last night around 7:00 PM.

It isn’t a bad room. The last time I stayed in a hotel/.motel was six months ago when we visited Dan, in what would turn out to be the last time we saw him.

There were times when I traveled for business a lot. When I sold insurance, I traveled. When I was doing store sets, I traveled. I had one gig when I would drive to places like Pawley’s Island, North Carolina to set out a new line of paint in Ace Hardware stores. It wasn’t a bad deal. Of course, it wasn’t the kind of job someone with spinal stenosis needed to be doing.

J still considers travel an “adventure”. She likes it. I think driving or riding in a car or flying in an airplane is kind of boring.

I miss my home, my YMCA. my friends, and my routine.

I do like being with J. This is the good part of the trip.

Dan, my brother-in-law, died last night 29 March, 2019 around 2200 hrs Eastern Time North America.

He was 72.

May the souls of the faithful departed, by the Mercy of God, rest in peace.

I am awake. I have been awake for about an hour. I am drinking my coffee and “planning” my day. The word “planning” is inaccurate. I’m sitting here, ready to doze off, watching a WW2 era Bugs Bunny/Elmer Fudd cartoon. The colors are wonderful. There was something about the palette the cartoonists used then or maybe it was the Technicolor© processing.

However I digress. This post is really about how I do very little during the day, want to do more, but can’t seem to do too much more than sleep and watch YouTube.

I was joking with J about our “sunset years” this morning as she was getting for work. I spent forty plus years working for the chance to do nothing. Now that I have nothing to do I want to do something. Crazy.

Well Porky Pig is on now, fat, stuttering Porky Pig so endearing with his megawatt smile. This cartoon is in black and white, but the color Porky is such an erotic, fleshy orangey-pink.

In watching cartoons from nearly eighty years ago, I realize people didn’t seem to worry about being “cool” then. They did stuff like use “flit guns”, devices that would spray clouds of insecticide into the air. They wore their “good” clothes on Sunday. They were glad to have jobs. They could buy all their groceries in a store less than half the size of a typical grocery store. Nobody even thought of a “big box” store.

Despite worries about employment and having enough money, the idea of a “consumer” was an alien concept. I was brought up by the people who saw these cartoons at the movies in their first run, along with movies starring Clark Gable, Jimmy Stewart, Rita Hayworth, Bette Davis. Real movie stars.

Regrettably, I have wasted your time. I realize I have nothing to say. I will try again later,

I am awake. It is 8:52 AM (Eastern Time, North America). This constitutes “normal”, in my opinuon. I am watching film footage of Paris in the 1960’s on You Tube. Nobody is wearing a tee-shirt. Men are wearing suits, women dresses. Today the international uniform style of dress consists of variants on the tee-shirt and denim trousers. For men. For women. The exception is the hijab for women among Islam’s followers.

I was supposed to make pumpkin bread for my Medieval Philosophy study group. It ain’t happening. I don’t even think I will go. I just don’t feel up for it. I need more sleep.

YouTube now features a travelogue about Sweden from 1949. In colour. Seventy years ago. May as well be 700 years.

I need to pack J’s lunch before I go back to bed.

I can now go back to sleep.

I wish I knew what the deal was around sleep. I wake up, lie in bed a bit, falling back asleep doesn’t come easily or quickly. Now I am watching old Bugs Bunny cartoons at 3:34 AM. Feeling sleepy again. I suspect Elmer Fudd won’t catch Bugs in this cartoon either.

Well, I overcame the general ennui and funk of my recent post Waking, Reluctantly yesterday by doing some yardwork that needed to be done. Routine maintenance like lawn mowing and leaf raking is done by the groundskeepers hired by the HOA management company, but the more specialized stuff is done by the resident/homeowner (me). My front garden had mimosa saplings growing in it last year, as well as a Virginia creeper vine that managed to climb up the screen on the living room window. My house had an appearance that was part Dr Seuss, part Addams Family. I was heartily sick of looking at the mess.

My late ex-wife (ex #2) was a gardener by avocation and a good one. I always admired her skill and

Collateral Damage From Yard Work

her passion for the yard. Inspired by her memory, embarrassed by the sorry look, and motivated to do something positive, I put on some old clothes and got to work. Digging out the saplings wasn’t too bad. The ground was wet enough so that simply digging around the saplings got all five of them out. Then a shrub on the end, (species unknown to me) got trimmed a bit. Next I cut back the vine, although I was unable to dig it out. When I get my Social Security money next week, I will get some mulch to put down, plus some hanging baskets, and planters for the front porch.

Now my diligence is being acknowledged by the pain in my arthritic left hip and at my fusion site. The Aleve I took seven hours ago is wearing off. Pride in accomplishment is now tempered by the pain.

Oh well