Tallahassee

I left Pensacola yesterday morning after breakfast but I only took Rusty with me as he insisted on coming, and we drove east not west on I-10. Some more housekeeping had to be done. After I got on Obamacare at my new address in Green Cove Springs I was required to register with my new doctor in Clay County. So I planned to leave Layne with Therese for two days and make my own way back.

Rusty was unhappy when he realized Layne wasn't coming too but there wasn't much I could do about that. He is a creature of habit, even worse than me and a break in his new routine had him fretting. Too bad I couldn't explain but he had refused to stay behind when I got ready to leave so here we were. A short walk in a rest area settled him a little so I decided to make a long stop on our way.

I hadn't been to Tallahassee in decades and I felt it was high time I paid a visit to the state capital. The Interstate was packed with traffic, something to do with the holiday I assumed as well as numerous snowbirds in RVs presumably going south to plague my former haunts! 

On a drizzly cool Sunday afternoon the seat of government and the seat of Leon County was all buttoned up and deserted, so parking was easy to find. Apparently Tallahassee got its name from Creek Indian usage and supposedly means old fields, and the spelling was regularized by the daughter of Governor Walton. I guess she was there at the right moment and someone needed to figure out how many esses and elles the name needed. Double all letters and you will be close to correct.

Tallahassee's history is one of compromise more or less. After Spain ceded Florida to the US the new government found it had inherited two provinces and each had its own capital, St Augustine for the East and pensacola for the West. The Americans trying to govern the new territory spent a few years trundling between the two cities which are separated by 400 miles of land and are an impossible distance apart by water.

The city that was chosen as the compromise capital became Tallahassee in 1821 and by 1824 was the new territory's only capital city. All this was four years before Key West, the wealthiest city in the territory got it's charter. As Governor William Pope Duval took charge of the territory when Spain handed it over in 1821 and served for 12 years. Interestingly enough Andrew Jackson, future president, was responsible for taking charge of the new territory and arrived in march 1821 in time for eh July hand over date. In November he quit and Duval took over.

All that explains why Key West named a street after Duval (and there's one such in Tallahassee also). However in those days the main drag in Key West was Whitehead Street, named for one of the four original American purchasers of the island.

Nowadays Tallahassee is a town dedicated to governance and that doesn't mean it's ugly. It's hilly which is ironic in such a flat state, filled with trees and shrubberies and Spanish moss and shade. They cater to tourists too and those electric scooters can be found all over the steep grades of the city. I remember a comment complaining how they get abandoned so frequently. We found them!

One thing you will notice is the number of organizations headquartered in the city. Lobbying is huge of course and in a state as massive as Florida the money must be mind boggling.

I found it all as attractive as I remembered, with parks on the periphery and a sensation of a small southern town despite its importance.

Sitting on Park Street I saw a plaque which I assumed would be of some person I'd need to look up if I wanted to know more. Imagine my surprise when I saw who it was.

I heard Red Barber at the end of his life with his weekly chats with Bob Edwards on NPR's Morning Edition, when I worked at a radio station in Santa Cruz. It was an attractive spot:

Rusty suddenly pointed in alarm. I watched the dog keep a slow steady pace alongside his owner's shambling gait. Rusty used to do that for me when I was pushing a walker.

The outdoor garden attracted its quota of homeless and I saw police officers talking to two of them who had apparently been in a dispute (voices were raised!). Not my problem I thought to myself. I have no regrets about not being involved with 911 any more.

The patience of police officers dealing with the same old dreary street drama day after day:

Tallahassee is a superb town for ambling, lots of picturesque church, beautiful gardens and flower beds...I thought back to Springfield Illinois famous for Lincoln's home but not as pretty as this, I thought, rather churlishly I admit..

The old capitol is now a museum and behind it rises the enormous tower that is the current capitol as functional as it is ugly.

A reminder because I am compulsive a capital is the city, and a Capitol is where the legislators meet. It's named for Capitolium, the temple dedicated to Jupiter in Rome on the Capitoline Hill. The Founders were classical scholars which is also why the Senate is so named as Rome too had its own senators in times past.

I made a stop at the Police Memorial and I searched for the name of a friend who joined the department when I did. John Piskator came to Key West from California where he had worked in Silicon Valley so we had the geography in common. He came to key West like me to start a new life. Out training one day in New Town he had a heart attack and died. Seeing his name here struck me quite hard to my surprise.

Firefighters got their own memorial too and I was surmised to see six have died on the job so far this year.

It is what it is and that isn't much to look at. The Florida legislature meets part time for a few months at the beginning of the year. The Governor and his individually elected Cabinet govern for the rest of the year. Despite having more registered Democrats Florida has only one statewide Democrat in office, the Secretary of Agriculture and the Legislature is permanently gerrymandered Republican.

For all that the governance of the state isn't bad or monolithic, as the functions carry on pretty much without legislative oversight. The lawmakers posture and argue and the bureaucrats get on with it. As such perhaps this monument to hot air isn't as inappropriate as it is ugly. As former resident of California I know where I'd rather live.

Florida has nearly 200 state parks and they are gorgeous, well worth visiting all over the state. The state's pensions are among the best funded in the country and the roads are better than most. Covid has thrown the spotlight on Governor DeSantis who seems to have preferred to run for President than govern as the native Floridian he is. Even so he has spent money on Everglades restoration and talks a green line on environmental issues facing the state. I think a lot of states could do worse than learn from this one despite all the mockery of Florida by others. 

Rusty needed to prove to me that he can see shapes and forms as I watched him get freaked out for a while by a statue of a dog, part of a tableau celebrating literacy.

I had a good time walking around Tallahassee even though I only exchanged a few pleasantries with one other dog walker.

For some reason Florida positively bulges with public art to suit all tastes:

A great break for Rusty and myself on the road to the doctors office. 

We slept at a rest stop, paused for a shower at a truck stop in the morning and got my blood drawn, got a shingles shot and a tetanus jab all in less than an hour. And broke my fast in the city park by the St John's River. I am growing to like North Florida very much.

The Emerald Coast

 There are times when it can be good for a man to know when he isn't necessarily needed and a solo road trip can be a good idea. I found myself in Apalachicola at sunset with my camera. The little side trip seemed a good idea.

I left Rusty at home, only slightly reluctantly as my recent solo drive to green Cove Springs revealed he prefers to travel as a family. He spent the two days anxious, as though Layne and I were never going to be together again and it seemed silly to put him through that again. I missed him but I had my camera for consolation.

I took US 98 along the waterfront, what is known around  here as the Emerald Coast. Each coast in Florida has a tourist attracting name, First Coast, Space Coast etc...Even a quick shot out the window on a bridge gives you some idea what they mean. The waters of the Gulf are not as clear obviously as those in the Keys but I remember 30 years ago sailing into Florida along here and like magic the waters looked tropical and I could see a shadow of my boat on the sand twenty feet below as I came into the harbor.

I spotted a pull out along the highway and on the spur of the moment, as you do, I stopped to enjoy a winter beach day in Florida. A few people wandered by, an elderly Labrador skipped stiffly by and of course didn't at all make me wish Rusty were there. It was a lovely 75 degree afternoon. 

I sent Layne pictures which had the desired effect; I got texts back saying all was well, Rusty missed me and we HAVE to get going. It's funny, we've been still a week and even though we aren't going back to work we still have a lingering vacation feeling. Personally I can't wait to cross the Mississippi and start seeing in person what I've been looking at online between 911 calls. 

Digesting Thanksgiving

Today will be my last full day in Pensacola and we started it as usual with Rusty leading the way around East Hill. The more I observe his behavior the more I see the predator in him. He already knows Therèse's home from several hurricane evacuations, when Layne brought him here to wait out any serious storm. Most recently that was Hurricane Irma which was a time of stress for families as the Keys were completely cut off for several days. It was none too pleasant for me either living without water, electricity, gas, or civilization in the minimally staffed police station!

Happy days, we are here by choice. And this is a pretty place. Rusty makes larger and larger circles each morning when we leave on patrol. My idea of a morning walk would be to get in the van and chase down some point of interest or to visit the rather pretty downtown and explore a new place. But my Carolina Dog lives by his wits and he likes to get to know who and what has been traveling past his lair while he was asleep. So we walk in apparently random circles around the block while he checks the ground for predators and likely dangers.  That such a wild thing cherishes my company never ceases to surprise me.

I have a few ideas why Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday of the year and I know I'm not alone in this. The lack of commercialization makes this holiday special. As much as shopping and Black Friday intrude the holiday itself is somehow still as much about the basics as it ever was. Jews have a similar tradition I discovered after I married one - a choice as mysterious to me as Rusty's pleasure in my company. Passover is the meal that sees a place kept for Elijah the prophet who will one day show up, at every Seder simultaneously presumably to announce the arrival of the Messiah. Jews place Jesus as yet another prophet and they are still waiting for their savior to show up. I guess a few more centuries won't hurt because the Passover meal has for me an air of Thanksgiving about it and thus a welcome additional holiday.

I'm an outsider to both traditions so my family never sends me Thanksgiving greetings and I'm never huddled in a corner exchanging pleasantries with long distance relationships. In Europe among my nominally Christian family members Thanksgiving is just another Thursday. Which to me is tough luck because Thanksgiving is the best. Not only is there lots to be thankful for, it is also a holiday of pure sentiment, friendship, eating together, and open doors with no pressure to buy, exchange or pretend. Pass the sweet potato casserole and dig in. Simple joy. Some people then get ready to shop and others pull out their Christmas decorations.

Jews at Passover have a tradition of open doors to anyone who wants to sit with them. Its like Thanksgiving in that it's a meal shared, and even though there should be readings and questions and all the rest of the formula the nub of a Reform passover gets down to passing the plates with food. Europeans don't do this and they miss out. For centuries they persecuted Jews for hanging around waiting for a Messiah when one perfectly good one had already come and gone, and nowadays the concept of Thanksgiving seems permanently out of their grasp. Hollywood, McDonald's and I am told nowadays American pancakes are all the rage in Italy but Thanksgiving? That's weird. Not that, not in Italy.

We will be driving the next month, ambling our way to warmer climates and we hope we will be seeing "Feliz Navidad" lit up everywhere, as the western tradition of over the top commercialism has taken hold around the world. After my parents separated and my mother went to live full time in Italy after thirty years in post war Britain, I found myself celebrating Christmas in her tradition, where Italians had an old witch bring presents in January to mark the holiday (holy day) of La Befana on January 6th, Twelfth Night when the Three Kings arrived out of breath with gifts for the Messiah from eastern realms. The Epiphany, a forgotten holy day nowadays.

I was confused naturally but these days Italians have got with the program and Christmas trees and squealing infants gather on the morning of the 25th per the modern script and La Befana is an embarrassing relic of another time. But I remember Christmas in Italy as a time of eating and subtly giving thanks with not much emphasis on gifts and lights and stress. I'm doubly thankful I get to celebrate this holiday now in my old age in the New World. La Befana comes to America every Fall.

Thanksgiving reminds me of another brilliant Italian tradition that has been thrown to the ash heap of history which is the ponte or "bridge." For reasons too complicated to go into (look up Lateran Treaty 1929 on Google if you want) Italy was required to celebrate a number of religious holidays every year. August 15th for instance The Assumption of Our Lady was a day off, and still is in a national holiday month. Practically every month had a religious holiday and occasionally even two. Italy's neighbors dedicated to their Protestant work ethics made fun of Italian laziness with their unending series of holidays and days off and all the rest.

There was a brilliant twist to an already enjoyable religious holiday requirement with the possibility of making a bridge between the holiday in question and the weekend. If the holiday fell on a Thursday or a Tuesday, what was the point of going back to work for one day? We'll just make a bridge (a ponte) and stay away from work for four days. This all had to end with European rules imposing stricter work hours and uniformity, so it did end amid much national lamentation.

For me Thanksgiving has the additional pleasure of falling on a Thursday and thus creating one last holiday bridge without fail every year. It connects me to that mythical past of young adulthood in Italy made up mostly of standing around with my friends in uncomfortable holiday clothes leaning against our cars (and my non conformist motorcycle) discussing how we were going to spend the day off. We spent them mostly standing around discussing what we were going to do. My suggestions to go exploring were met with disdain so I took to my motorcycle by myself. I made my own tradition on empty holiday back roads.

I suppose being retired makes a holiday seem a futile exercise but being retired is more than time away from work routines. It's time away from office drama, conflicting personalities and the useless rummaging around in your mind for strategies to survive another pay period. My private Thankfulness this year is that I got out before the new wave of anti-vaxxer trainees took hold at work.  Add being Covid free to the list of things to be thankful for.

I had two brilliant Thanksgivings this year which might have seemed over the top had I been in a mood to judge myself.  As we slide into Christmas I will hold on to the simplicity of the Thanksgiving message. Next year I plan to be back and give Thanks for the end of the plague, give thanks to my wife still alive for being steadfast in the face of personal peril and be glad everyone is still here including us.

I will be thankful Thanksgiving is a North American holiday reserved for Canadians in October and us in November. For me it's not a historical massacre or a reason to get up in arms about history. I know what we do isn't historically accurate, blah blah blah, but I've never sat down at a table and given thanks with anyone who might remotely resemble a genocidal maniac. People I share Thanksgiving with are glad to be at table with people they like. That other cultures and peoples don't do this gives Thanksgiving, the parade, the football and the gastronomic exhaustion a personal flavor I very much enjoy.

Now that we've done that, let's get on with our lives. They tell us the virus is coming back with a new variant but I'm figuring we will find a way forward, messy, costly, argumentative and at times silly. But compared to what the original settlers had to deal with  this should be a piece of cake.  Thanksgiving means trusting we shall find a way as we always have. I plan to stay curious and to poke around as far from home as I am allowed and able, and as close to the road as I like. To everyone facing work Monday morning, thank you, and I'll not take my freedom for granted.