Fitting In

The Forest and the Urban Forest

As you get older, you have two paths you can follow. One of them is marked by a curiosity and sense of adventure to try out new ideas and stay current with developments. The other is to want to force the world to comply with those elements that you are comfortable with. I think that is the source of the concept of "crochety". Since I adhere to the rule that you should never be two bad things at once and being older is the first one, I try to stay pliable and understanding of "differences" or "changes" that I didn't initiate. Being old and demanding is the fastest way to earn your "crotchety" badge. I have no wish to do that. As a matter of fact, I now find myself trying to challenge my comfort level to keep capable of adapting to the important and exciting others might suggest. In a time when we all want everyone to think the way we do, that is an interesting position for a geezer. I am a lucky man that the divine woman I am married to is the same. It is really easy to "not understand" some of the ravings that make regular circulation on social media. In our age group, it is a real challenge particularly for two people that choose to live amongst younger, creative, and energetic people, rather than those our own age. On this past vacation, we had ample opportunities to test our willingness to keep still and just let people talk and act differently from what our particular sentiment might be. With the political climate being what it is and the pressure presented by the battle created between science and political semantics and other mischief, we really found it best to keep still. We did that with both sides of the political spectrum. We had long ago decided what we believed would be the proper path to stay healthy and to cast our vote so it really no longer mattered what the rhetoric was. The old saying that you should never try to teach a pig to sing because it wastes your time and annoys the pig was certainly applicable. We made it work because all we had to do to fit in was stay silent. We were tested on both ends of the spectrum. The purpose of the fall trip is obviously to leave our comfort zone in the central city for the woods and in some cases, the deep woods. We did a transition through Chattanooga, obviously a city but not quite as large as Tampa. We fit in just fine there for the places we went. We left there and traveled to a cabin so far back in the woods that our outdoor professional friend Jen Ripple, no stranger to "far out", had a hard time finding us. The peace was amazing. But, not so far away was that Mecca of all Southern Meccas, Pigeon Forge with its nod to everything "family oriented". As a parent I never thought that taking my kid to an attraction that looked like an upside-down building or one that was designed around a major catastrophe was a great option to the Great Smoky Mountains that was right next door. The pursuit of peace is not the same of us older folks. I love and loved being a parent but it just somehow seems like it was different. We are old enough to remember when Disney wasn't done yet. So, we have had our share of "family" entertainment. But we were definitely out of our element in the middle of attraction after attraction. How did we fit in? We didn't stay long. We opted for a very crowded drive through the park and then returned to the solitude afforded by our cabin in the woods where we had a close encounter with a mother bear and her cub. Luckily is wasn't too close since we are old enough to smell like lunch to any apex predator but it was certainly exciting enough. We stayed in the cabin and the bear stayed outside and we enjoyed each other's company in silence. We left the solitude of the cabin for the bustle of the Cabbage Town neighborhood in the middle of Atlanta. We found our solitude above a bakery that was not too far from the Atlanta Beltline, their massive and successful urban trail. We walked everyday and encountered that particular energy of the street that keeps people engaged with the drama and the reality of the sad fact we still have people who feel anyone other than their own "kind" (their words not ours) are not quite as equal. We do not believe so but there are enough in our age group and demographic that make it seem like all of us do. How did we fit in? We smiled and greeted everyone with warmth and sincerity. That is not a tough thing for us. We did discover places that it was better for us not to be in at certain times of the day but we have those in Tampa and the same process works. Don't make yourself a target or a witness. We never felt threatened and we did have some valuable dialogue and discovered some terrific displays of art and poetry that absolutely have the potential to lead to peace. That was insightful and encouraging. I know there are people that will argue that we should stand up for our principals. Believe me. We do. We just choose the theater for that piece of drama and the best is that shutting up once in awhile and listening to what the other side has to say is very insightful. Fitting in is not automatic. You have to work at it and be reasonable. It's not too much to ask.

A Flooded Krog Street Tunnel

Chattanooga, TN

When I returned from my military service in 1973, we moved right back into the same farmhouse on Woodside farm in the middle of 160 acres of horse and cattle farming. On occasion, we would travel to Florida just to find the sunshine. It was a long trip and we would stop in Chattanooga at the East Ridge exit to spend the night if we stopped at all. I never really got a chance to explore the city or the surrounding area. A week ago we left Tampa for the first time since last March when the pandemic sidelined us. We love Tampa but were both ready to get out for a bit and I needed to stoke my inspiration gland with travel. We were headed to the woods of East Tennessee but want to make the transition gradually. We rented a vacation rental for three night in Chattanooga to check it out. WHAT A PLEASANT SURPRISE. First, Chattanooga was one of the first cities to install high speed Internet as a city service. It has earned the name “GIG CITY” because of that vision. By the luck of the draw the house we rented was just at the base of Lookout Mountain and steps away from something called the Guild Trail. That turned out to be an improved hiking and biking trail that goes ¾ of the way around the mountain. We walked about 2.5 miles of the total 5 mile trail. It was an amazing find right in Chattanooga. There were attractions all around us. We ended up in the parking lot of Ruby Falls. The trail went beneath the Lookout Mountain Incline. We got a chance to wave at the folks as they rode up the side of the mountain. Technically the small house was advertised as being in St. Elmo which is a small improvement district about 3.5 miles south of the city center. It was an easy drive the next day to explore the city. We crossed the Tennessee River on the Market Street bridge and turned back downhill to the river front park known as Coolidge Park and the Tennessee Riverfront walkway. Part of that whole experience is a former railroad bridge that the city decided to make a pedestrian walkway known as simply “the Pedestrian Bridge”. It connects one side of the river to the other by foot and is for bikes and foot traffic together. What an amazing and visionary idea. The downtown connected for vehicular and non-motorized traffic within blocks of each other. Connecting is a “THING” in Chattanooga. Whether it is on the Internet or on foot. Interstate 24 and Interstate 75 are undergoing massive construction currently that is incredibly disruptive but with the river, rail, and two interstates coming together, it was always going to be dicey. When that is done, Chattanooga will be connected at least by roadway easily to Atlanta to the southeast, Knoxville to the northeast, and Birmingham to the southwest, and Nashville to the northwest. That is extremely centrally located. If you haven’t ever considered visiting Chattanooga change your mind.

Nova Scotia, From Yarmouth to Halifax to Digby.

Not all places on the planet are created equal for a creative. There are locations where the spirit of a place speaks louder to those wishing to listen. You get in touch with that message through the people, their use of art, how they build their buildings, what they think of themselves, and how they treat you. So, when we get to a place that we feel totally accepted, tolerated, and peaceful we tend to pay attention. In July of 2017 we took one of our massive “when is it going to end” road trips all the way from Tampa, Florida to Halifax, Nova Scotia. We had lots of stops along the way but they are stories for another time. The place that became the most important to us on the trip was Nova Scotia. We crossed on the ferry from Portland, Maine to Yarmouth. As we entered through the customs at almost midnight, all the officer wanted to be sur of was that I did not have any firearms with me. There is a very different mindset about weapons there. The next day we drove up the east coast stopping in every amazing village we could find finally ending up for three days in Halifax before returning via another route along the northwestern coast to a ferry that runs from Digby, Nova Scotia to Saint John, New Brunswick. We have spent hours discussing what spoke to us both in almost every location. One of our favorite places was Lunenburg, an amazing village on the southeast coast. It is a UNESCO World Heritage site with many of its historical buildings still intact and in use. It was the people that caught us by surprise. They knew all about their city, all about their province, all about their country, and quite frankly a great deal about the world. They were also interested in us as Americans. They asked questions and actually listened to the answers. Another heart stopper was Halifax. It is an international cosmopolitan city with a soul. It not only is diverse; it embraces the diversity. It has an innocence about it that we, here in the U.S. may have lost. Upon checking in to the hotel, the desk clerk asked how our trip up from Yarmouth had been. I answered that I was shocked that I didn’t see a police officer anywhere and that everyone was going the speed limit. He smiled and responded totally sincerely, “well speeding is against the law up here you know and we take it seriously.” He was right. The city is proud of its substantial history, architecture, and public art on almost every block. As we walked, we came upon a park with a piano chained to a tree. We sat to catch our breath and within minutes someone walked up, sat down and started playing. Soon there were others. The spirit of the arts was everywhere blending the historical with the radically modern. As we walked, we learned the story of the city from the city itself and its people. The waterfront had an amazing year-round indoor farmer’s market that was full of great music, food and local goods. It made us both long for a place with kitchen. A great deal of that waterfront had been destroyed in one of the worst disasters caused by human hands. On December 6, 1917, two ships collided in the bay adjacent to the harbor. One was loaded with explosives that ignited and blew up. Approximately 2,000 people were killed by the blast and the collapsing buildings. Another 9000 were injured and the tragedy set off one of the largest and most difficult relief efforts ever attempted. December in Nova Scotia means snow and ice. In 1917 there were no airlifts or parachute drops of supplies. Almost everyone we came in contact with in the city from people on the street to people engaged in the tourist industry could tell you about that catastrophe. So why do I include this. This isn't a travel blog! As a writer I focus on places, people, and things that inspire. It's just the way my mind works. We were both moved by the visit to Nova Scotia The vibe created by the people and the place was just that different. Don’t get me wrong, we have found very cool places in this country that you will read about here. But that leg of the trip was defined by the place, the people, the art and the soul.

Beaufort SC -Inspiration for Creative Thoughts

Pat Conroy was the reason that I decided to write a novel. He was dead by the time I figured all of this out. So, it was fitting that we include Beaufort SC on our trip last fall. We stayed at the Beaufort Inn which is in the next block and I was able to visit the center before it closed. I'm not much on hero worship but when an author does as much for other authors and writers as they do for themselves, that is worth noting and that was what Pat Conroy did and is still doing. I had just published the first edition of Tampa Traffick and I was just happy to have it out there. It was full of mistakes, way too long, and needed work. I realized it on reading Pat's book, My Reading Life. The citation is at the end of this. The center was a great place to get a glimmer of the impact a writer such as Pat Conroy had and still has. They conduct workshops for kids, young writers and adults. It was created by a loving community and it is testimony to the how close Beaufort South Carolina and Pat Conroy are connected. As we traveled around to find the spots mentioned in Pat's cookbook (citation follows) we got a feel for how the man and the community were blended. He would be the first to tell you that it wasn't always a calm union but as both the man and the city matured, it is hard to tell where one stops and the other begins. There were many good qualities about Pat Conroy that had nothing to do with Beaufort. And, Beaufort has many great qualities that Pat had nothing to do with. But the blend was and still is magnificent. The stories include poor Gullah children left to a crumbling school who would latter produce a writer. They include the story of how Pat campaigned and won the privilege to be buried in St. Helena Memorial Garden. the first white man to be buried there near the Penn Center. St. Helena Memorial Garden and the Penn Center both have a history in the civil rights movement. Early in his career, Pat met Martin Luther King there and Pat's devotion to teaching and advocating for better education for black students became legendary. His gravestone is covered with small mementos left by the people who make it a point to visit. In so doing, they come in contact with one of the most historic sites for human rights in the entire South. Two missions, joined by the talent and dedication of one author and his fans. If you have not read Pat Conroy please take the time to do so. He writes of life lived with all its challenges, triumphs, and loses.

My Reading Life by Pat Conroy. Published by Nan A Talese/Doubleday, A Division of Random House, Inc. New York 2010.

The Pat Conroy Cookbook by Pat Conroy. Published by Nan A. Talese/Doubleday, A Division of Random House, Inc. New York 2004

For a complete guide to Pat Conroy, his life and his work, please visit: patconroy.com For more information on the Pat Conroy Literary Center please visit patconroyliterarycenter.org.

Memories of Monhegan

Monhegan Island sits sixteen miles off the coast of Maine in another world entirely. It has long been a favorite with painters and artists as a place of visual inspiration and as such hosts a group of resident artists who maintain galleries on the island. It is also, for a writer like myself and inspiration. The island reflects another time and place. There are very few motorized vehicles. Cell service is silly and intermittent but I found that throughout Maine. It's one of the best assets of the State. But on Monhegan face to face communication replaces digitized small bursts of words and emotions. People actually look up and greet each other. So, what do most people do? The walk and think at the same time. That is a custom- made environment for writer. In face almost all forms of creative endeavor were well represented. I sat on a wall and listened to a choral concert in the middle of an afternoon. I heard some of the best fiddle and guitar playing I have ever heard live. It was all part of the atmosphere. I'm not a travel writer. My hat is off to them because I'm not sure I could capture the essence of Monhegan in a way that would influence someone to get on the ferry, ride for an hour sometimes in rough seas, to get to a totally remove island. I don't have that talent. But, character after character came clearly into focus. I began to understand the work of the artists that had become famous here. I learned how much has to happen by just dumb luck to allow people to make a living from the sea. I was there in the summer of course when the boat ran twice a day to the mainland. I didn't have to worry about ordering groceries and getting someone to pick them up or how I was going to heat my house when the winter gales of the Atlantic swept over the island. There were enough lanterns around for me to half figure out what would happen if the power was interrupted or how you would handle a fire (there is absolutely no smoking on the island) or a medical emergency. Not having to worry about those things is what was part of magic that drew me to the island three times in one summer. I would go back again tomorrow just to sit on the porch at the Monhegan Inn, look out over the sound that you see above, and imagine what my next hero was going to be like. It is a place of mystery. It is a place of magic. It will never be completely figured out and that is what makes the island itself a muse.

Living on Water

One of the best parts of retirement or working independently is that you get to pick where you live. All too often we move where the money is or where the loved ones are, or where we are the most needed. But if you get to pick you get to pick you find the reasons become clear. For me, it's water. Both the Divine and I are drawn and nourished by water. Strangely enough it doesn't have to be a beach fronting an ocean. We love that, but we are more drawn to other locations. We live in Tampa next to Port Tampa Bay. But more about that next month. Water is movement and change. Those are two of the most important motivators in the Arnett household. So it is the rise and fall of the tide, the current, the flow that captures my imagination and brings me the most peace. One of the things that I love about my adopted city is that the powers that be have decided to give as much access as possible to the water.

Being close to such a dynamic entity as Tampa Bay and the Hillsborough River helps to define who I am as a person. I can tell that it's nearby. I can sense the shifts in temperature, sea life, and the people life that happens in, on, and around the water. I have favorites. Give me a salt marsh with the abundance of transition life and I am a happy person. It has helped develop my southern mentality over the years. Give me a mountain river with its tributaries of streams and creeks and the bug life that supports my favorite fish, trout, and it completes the picture of who I am.

I live in two environments, deep in the woods, and high in the central city. They both have abundant water all around them. It works for me.

Take a moment and examine those elements of where you live that give you pleasure and purpose in your life.

Ybor, A Place of the Heart

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I love my home, I love my area of the city and most of the time, I love the city itself. Under normal circumstances I could walk a block and get on a streetcar and travel to Ybor City. It is the nearby historic section and the most interesting area of the urban core. Its history reflects the blending of this nation. Its traditional population was composed of Italians, Cubans, Jews, Spainards, and Germans. They were both white and black and all considered themselves Americans. Social service clubs that provided community cohesion, support, and even medical services were the norm. Many of the best buildings like the Cuban Club, the Italian Club, and Centro Asturiano de Tampa are still standing and repurposed. Ybor City holds on to those roots like a mother holds a child. It has been difficult for even the staunchest politician to rattle that cage hard enough for them to stop pointing out the insanity of separatist thinking. The place represents the people and the people are amazing. There is even still a tri-lingual newspaper, La Gaceta which is published in Spanish, Italian, and English.

I normally would have lunch, get a haircut at my favorite barbershop by my favorite female barber from Puerto Rico by way of New Jersey and then finish off with a coffee con leche and a cigar before hopping back on the streetcar for the ten-minute ride back to my home. Just that small adventure had many small encounters that define Ybor City. Stepping around free range protected chickens to make my way on uneven sidewalks gave me a sense of place. Hearing at least three languages spoken at lunch, watching the older population mix with the younger segments and both mix with the colorful collection of street people constantly reassured me that I had picked the right "Place".

It is all part of this place I call home.