The last leg of our great adventure took us to Saint John, New Brunswick, and Halifax, Nova Scotia. I felt like a celebrity entering the Port of Saint John. Ambassadors from the city presented  flowers to the ladies and lapel pins to the men. A congenial corps of volunteers directed us to the gateway of a clean and green city. Read More→

Our next October cruise stop was Bar Harbor, Maine. I love shopping for that perfect adventure when the ship ports for the day. When we pulled in to Bar Harbor I had a choice between a tour of  Acadia National Park or whale watching.   My adventure gene was calling. Read More→

“Sit down everybody, you’re rockin’ the boat!”  I yelled as I tried to walk through the corridors of our large cruise liner.  Maybe, if everyone else in the hallway sat down, I’d be able to walk without falling. Read More→

It had been forty-one years since our last reunion. Her face showed lines I didn’t remember. Rain and wind seized the sunlight as we traveled in her direction. The last time I had seen her, my dad was with me. Now I was a grandmother. She had seen tragedy but stood regal.

We left the boat and dashed into the coffee shop. My husband, Bill, chose to let me visit her alone. Bill had worked eighteen years in “the city” as he called it, and enjoyed watching me be the tourist. The wind threatened to steal the Golden Tiger baseball cap he had earned at his Clemson University class reunion. Clutching my umbrella and camera I hurried to her side.

The wind turned my umbrella inside out as I held it in one hand and took her picture with the other. Her cheeks were streaked with what appeared to be black tears.

This was Miss Liberty; if she could talk what tales she could tell. The faces of the hopeful as they approached Ellis Island, tranquil sunsets, parades of tourists, renovations, world championships, and the horror of the charred ruins of the World Trade Center.

I thought of how much my dad enjoyed our visits to New York when I was a child. It was a different New York then; and now many are afraid to visit America’s city. The glare of Times Square hasn’t changed; just the signs. The sidewalks are still shellacked with humanity. Restaurants still offer cuisine beyond expectations. Bill and I thrilled to the Broadway hit, “Movin’ Out,” a tapestry of Billy Joel’s music trimmed with the choreography of Twyla Tharp.

Names written in neon brought back cherished memories:  my mother in yellow chiffon dancing with my dad in the Rainbow Room; my sister’s exasperated face as I emulated the high kicks of the Rockettes on the sidewalk outside of Radio City Music Hall; our family’s excitement as my sister competed for a spot on “The Price is Right” within NBC Studios.

At sunset we took our place to sail toward New England, away from the upraised torch of Miss Liberty. The crowd pressed me into the ship’s railing as I promised Her Majesty my return.

Our Nova Scotia cruise was three years in the making, and our plans were in place.  We arrived at Greenville-Spartanburg Airport far ahead of our departure time. There were four of us, to be joined by others for a cruise to New England and Canada. Our airline tickets said a resounding NO to the column listing in-flight meals. The pilot tried to prepare one as the plane taxied. Read More→

Dateline: Da Bayou State–As a dividend of my second marital endeavor, I gained three sons.  I don’t like the term step–it reminds me of the horrible hag that stood over Cinderella making her scrub all those floors.  We’ve done better just calling each other friends.

One of Bill’s sons lives in Metairie, (Metree), an alligator’s eyelash away from the Big Easy.  I’d never been to Louisiana before; trips there are still like tourism for me.  One year on a trip out Read More→