In the good old summertime

During the last twenty years I have been traveling alone a great deal and it has given me the opportunity to watch many new people in far away and interesting places. Places right out of history and story books, television and all kinds of misconceptions. I don't believe you have the same experiences when you travel with someone. The security of being with someone you know allows you to be pretty insular. You never really have to get out of your own comfort zone if you don't want to.

For the past two weeks I have been in Alabama, home of the University of Alabama Football team, The Crimson Tide, where people routinely call Roll Tide to each other and hang university flags on their front porches. The accents are soft. Even the voices are soft, but the spirit is tough and the weather is brutal. Today I thought it was cool for a change, but it was still above 85.

This is a gated neighborhood. I can stand in the alley behind the garage and see a BMW, a Mercedes Benz, and a Porsche and the parks look like something right out of  The Twilight Zone. I expect to see bright uniformed bands materialize in the pavilion playing In The Good Old Summertime while ladies with parasols parade by two by two over the manicured grass and under bright blue skies with fluffy white clouds.

Instead I see people running. Running in racing shorts and tank tops. Running with big dogs racing along beside them. Running two by two and one by one up and down the streets of the otherwise empty looking neighborhood. At night I see golf carts overflowing like clown cars with ten year olds driving up and down the streets and today I saw a tiny little girl in a princess costume, complete with crown, driving a motorized convertible while her Daddy walked beside her. She smiled and waved very regally, melting my heart.

I join in with the mothers and babies, they with fancy strollers, me simply strolling and walk blocks through this heat shimmering perfection while carrying bags of dog poo. I understand having to pick it up. I'm not sure I understand why all the trash receptacles have signs saying, No Animal Feces.

Tomorrow I go home and I will miss my sweet four legged charge who understands, "just a minute, give me the ball, drop the ball, wait and come here." I will miss tucking her into bed every night after taking her to go potty and I will even miss checking on her water bowl twenty times a day because she drinks even more than I do.