I’ve just returned from a month-long sojourn on the East Coast and I’m full to bursting with images and events and characters. In fact, I’ve got so much I want to write about I’m paralyzed by infinite choice.
Start with swimming with the manatees in Florida’s Crystal River or walking the labyrinth at the Dali Museum in St. Petersburg? Attempt to describe the Jurassic-like plant life at The Sunken Gardens or the surreal mermaid show at Weeki Wachee Springs?
What about the road trip with Drusilla Campbell from Florida to New York and stories inside that story? How do you segue from mermaids to losing our way in a huge retirement community in central Florida where everyone drives golf carts? Talk about surreal.
Then there’s beautiful, historic Savannah and the geography of the lowcountry, the changing of the landscape as we drove—memories or were they dreams? And the 23-mile drive across the Chesapeake Bay Bridge-Tunnel; the deluge in Norfolk, VA on a hunt for a Fed-Ex outlet; the Jersey Turnpike and the confusion at the Newark Airport where we left our rental car.
Finally six days in New York in an apartment in the West Village, a brilliant Broadway play (“The Glass Menagerie”) and an off-Broadway play that we’re still shaking our heads about. A train ride up the Hudson to Beacon, NY and a pilgrimage to the New York Public Library.
There’s the madness of Times Square contrasting the quiet of Bryant Park, the last-night-in-Manhattan aliveness of Washington Square. Shopping, oh, yes, and the food and the restaurants and the streets, the streets of New York, and always the people–friends and otherwise.