Friendship

The grass is greener here

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This past week I heard some great news. Of course, it was preceded by a brief bit of bad news.

Almost a year ago, my best friend Lisa moved to Florida with her family. In the couple of months before she moved, she completely withdrew from her friends. I think she was trying to prepare herself for the separation. Or maybe it was just that she was going to school full-time and has 3 kids at home. Her husband was transferred to Florida for his job which ended up falling through. They ended up renting a house in Florida while making payments for a house here that they were having a hard time selling.

Lisa contacted us last week to tell us that they finally sold their house. We were happy for them that they didn’t have to make double payments, but were disappointed because it seemed like they were cutting their ties for good. Lisa also said that she wouldn’t be able to come back next month to run the marathon with me either. What a bummer!

Then something completely unexpected happened. Lisa told me that they decided to move back home in the beginning of June. I guess the grass is not greener in Florida after all! LOL

Life was pretty dreary without Lisa here last summer. All I did was train for the marathon. She was always the one that would get the girls together to go out. She liked to have girls nights at her house that included cooking, movies, camp fires, and games. We would have theme nights making sushi or Italian dishes. She was a very good cook. Now I will look forward to getting together with her.

She was also my running partner. My mom is happy that she is moving back because she said she worries about me running on the back roads by myself.  Lisa always motivates me to be a better runner. C’mon, we can run faster. We can run further. Don’t slow down. Don’t give up. Lisa also has just as many demons to outrun as I do. We can relate to each other on a deeper level because we have lived successfully through hard times. I told her about getting a new bike and she is already talking about doing a 50 mile bike ride. We will probably do our first tri side by side. It will be great to have her in my life again.  I was afraid I was going to have to let her go.

The role of the dice

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Tonight I will be out playing Bunco with the girls. It will be the first time that I went after my neighbor Sharon passed away. I will be playing with her friends. I really haven’t wanted to play the last several months without her, but haven’t been able to anyway.

If you are not familiar with Bunco, it is a dice game that is totally based on luck. The only challenging thing about it is keeping score after a drink or two. I was first invited to Bunco when Sharon was hosting it at her house and needed an extra player. That first night I won big time. Beginner’s luck they said. Month after month, Sharon called me to tell me that they needed a sub. Eventually, I was put on the permanent player list. Sharon always insisted on being the driver. She liked to smoke a cigarette on the way to calm her nerves. She rarely, if ever, had a drink. She liked to pick everyone else up. One time we ended up having more people than room in her car, but she squeezed everyone in.

I have finally reached the point of accepting that she is gone. I don’t think that she is going to drive by and wave. I don’t think she is going to come out of her house after a long winter and visit. I don’t think she is going to come over to borrow an egg and send back a batch of cookies. She is gone.

Sharon was an extreme extrovert. She loved people. She used to work at a local gas station and grew up in the area, so everyone knew her. After giving people directions to my house, several people asked me why I didn’t tell them that I lived next to Sharon. So I started telling people that I lived next to Sharon. She had 1,000 people come to her funeral. 

Sharon loved to entertain people by telling stories. My favorite story was about a bear that visited her up north. Sharon and her family owned a lot up north that they put a couple of campers on. She told me that one day a bear visited them while they were cooking out. Later that night, Sharon was having an intimate evening with her husband. The next morning her little boy asked her if the bear came back. He said that he heard her screaming like she was scared and the camper was rocking like the bear was trying to get in. I never laughed so hard.

Sharon had the world’s biggest heart. Her husband had children from a previous marriage. Although she treated his children as if they were her own, she was never able to have children. They decided to provide foster care with the intentions of adopting. Their first two foster children were abused by their previous adoptive foster parents. They were in the process of adopting these children, but it fell through and they were returned back to their previous adoptive parents. Sharon was absolutely heartbroken. 

A couple of years later, Sharon became the foster parent of a baby that she later adopted. She eventually adopted his younger sister when she was 2. The second child was more of a challenge because she was in foster care for the first two years of her life. She decided to make it an open adoption. The birth mother was on drugs and had all of her children taken away right after birth. She just wasn’t mother material. But Sharon kept her land line so the birth mother could call her anytime day or night. She was very loving and not at all judgmental. She even loved my children like they were her own. 

Sharon always called me at work if a strange vehicle was in my yard. She was always keeping an eye on the neighborhood.

The last couple of times that I saw Sharon, she was in bad health. She had a couple of very serious health conditions. Her husband quit his job to become self-employed and they didn’t have health insurance. Previously, her husband was on the road a lot. Sharon was afraid to be home alone without her husband. At night, she slept with every light on in the house. Once in the middle of the night, there was a motorist that broke down near us. She went to Sharon’s house for help because all of the lights were on. Sharon was terrified when her doorbell rang in the middle of the night. So her husband decided to start his own business to be home more.

The last couple of months, Sharon complained about not feeling well. She said that after the kids left for school, she would go back to bed until the afternoon. She couldn’t afford to get the treatment she needed but always told me that she would go to the doctor soon. Then she came down with a simple case of pneumonia. She very unexpectedly died at the age of 45 leaving behind two grade school aged children.

So tonight I will be hanging out with her friends. I wish I didn’t have to go without her.

My attempt to join a band

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A couple of months ago, I ran into some acquaintances at a store whom I will call Ricky and Sherri. Since I have known Ricky, he has been in a band. He is ruggedly handsome in a rock and roll way with long stringy dark blonde hair. He dresses mainly in worn jeans and leather with rock shirts. I would describe his wife Sherri as a free spirit. I wouldn’t describe her as beautiful, but as unique. She always did different things with her hair like put pink streaks in it. She was happy and carefree.

I ran into Sherri first at the store. She told me that the band her husband was in might be breaking up. She said that he was thinking about starting a new band. When Ricky came over, I told him that if he needed a female singer in his new band to keep me in mind. I figured, why not? I like his style of music, plus I still have being a singer in a band on my bucket list. After I said this, Ricky stopped making eye contact. He mumbled something that sounded like sure, but seemed to be distracted. I mentioned something about his strange behavior to my husband when I got home.

Now I am going to rewind back in time a few more years, back to when I first met Ricky and Sherri. For a brief period of time, we were in the same social group that was lead by a relative of Sherri by the name of Roxanne. We were invited into the group because we had the mutual friends of Jerry and Anna. Roxanne was beautiful, educated, and very wild.

We started hanging around with this group right around the time that my oldest child was old enough to babysit. It was the first taste of freedom that I probably ever felt. This is pretty sad, but I never went to one single college party. I totally missed the college party scene altogether. I always had to be perfect and responsible. 

Not anymore!

Paul and I started going to the parties that Roxanne threw. She threw big theme parties where everyone dressed in character. One year she had a pirate party, etc.. Ricky played guitar in their band. I loved the music! They would party all night. Eventually, the cops would come because of noise complaints. But they had an in with the local police, so the parties were never shut down. All the neighbors were invited, but not everyone went. People camped out in tents and campers. The parties attracted the well educated and even a few local celebrities. 

It was like playing with fire with this group. If you got too close, you were likely to get burned.  

The parties always involved very heavy drinking. If you were seen without a drink in your hand, you were given one. Roxanne even had a stripper pole at her house! She arranged girls trips to places including New Orleans during Mardi Gras.. I thought that a lot of things they did were exciting, but risky and dangerous. 

Their lifestyle seemed attractive at first. I can’t stand being friends with someone that I find boring, but this group was taking it to the opposite extreme. I found their behavior to be shocking. I like fun and excitement as much as the next person, but I find it in different ways. I like running marathons, sailing on the open water, and mastering tricky jigsaw puzzles (OK, that one is boring!!). They found fun by drinking to the point that they forgot everything that happened the night before. That is not my kind of fun! They seemed to find value in shocking people. They made me feel boring.  

I saw happily married couples making out with other people. Fights broke out. I watched the group edge closer and closer to the fire from a distance. Some of them got burned. Then some of the marriages started breaking up. Jerry and Anna broke up. Since Jerry was our friend, we were no longer a part of this group because Anna was staying. No hard feelings. For awhile I did miss the excitement of this group that I never fully belonged to.

Back to a couple of months ago, I considered for a moment whether I wanted to play with fire again by getting involved with Ricky’s band. I figured it was a long shot anyway. Then a couple of weeks after meeting with Ricky and Sherri in the store, their 20 plus year marriage fell apart. Ricky ran off with a band groupie. That explained his odd behavior! I should really unfriend Ricky on facebook, but once again I am drawn in by the fire……the gossip, the fights, the shock value.  

Well, there goes my attempt to join a band. I guess I will just stick to community theater! There is never any drama there (**eye roll**)! More on that tomorrow…

After the snow melts

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After the snow melted, I thought I saw a little blue baby boy sock out in my yard. I wondered where it came from. I don’t even remember the last time I had a baby at my house. My baby boy is almost fully grown.

It made me long for the days when my son was a baby. Alex was my easiest baby. He was always content. He was happy to sit and study his surroundings quietly for hours. He slept through the night. He kept a very structured eating and sleeping schedule that I could set my clock by. He was easy to potty train. He was the cutest little guy. He had thick curly brown ringlets, whereas his sisters got the straight hair. He was such a mama’s boy. We would sit together and read books often.

Now I wish I could tell you that things haven’t changed much after Alex entered his teen years, but I can’t. Things haven’t been that easy as of late. My husband said that with him it is always two steps forward and one step back. This will be the last weekend that he is grounded from his friends. There is one friend that has been a horrible influence on him and other neighborhood kids. Alex is not allowed to hang out with him anymore. Last week two police cars were at this boy’s house. Trouble seems to follow him wherever he goes. I am hoping that since this friendship has been severed, things will get better.

Alex has been struggling with his grades, with making new friends, and has been angry about his grandma’s cancer diagnosis. Paul and I had a long talk with the principal who suggested signing him up for a spring sport. Alex opted to join track. At his very first track meet on his very first event, he injured his leg. It was so frustrating. Alex was upset as well. He was angry that some of his friends weren’t watching his event. He said that if he never came back to school, no one would miss him. I didn’t like to hear him talk like that, but at least he was talking to me. I told him that no matter what his friends do, I would be there for him.

That night after the meet, I went to look at the baby sock in my yard. But it wasn’t a sock. It was a blue piece of paper flapping in the wind.

So it is day after day, sometimes my son and I get along great. We talk about his future. We joke and laugh. He can always sense when I am feeling down even when I try to hide it. He told me not to worry about the past because my life is happy now when I feel sad after writing about difficult things. He encourages others when they are feeling down. He is gentle, caring, and kind.

Then the next minute, he is moody and disrespectful. He says mean things. He wants to have nothing to do with me. He talks about moving out. I suppose that is what raising teenagers is all about. Right now my son is 65% adult and 35% child. Sometimes he is so much like a man that I feel shocked at his maturity and logic. Then the next minute the child comes out and I am shocked by his immaturity. I think that we are heading in the right direction with Alex. He just takes a little more work then our first born.

The next time I glanced out the window, I tried to see if the blue paper still looked like a baby sock. I thought that my perception would change after I realized it was just a piece of paper. But the next time I looked, it was gone.

Friend or follower

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You are my friend. I know so much about you. You know so much about me. Isn’t that what friendship is about? 

Never mind that you live across the world from me. Or that we have different viewpoints. Or different religions, peronalities, struggles, or birth order, etc… Who wants to be friends with someone exactly like them in every way anyway? 

I don’t have any formal training in writing. But if I write about very difficult and dark things, the next time I will try to make you laugh.  

I feel like I know you even though we wouldn’t recognize each other walking down the street. Maybe for a few minutes we ran next to each other in the same race. One thing is for sure, for a moment in time our lives intersected on the path of the human race.

Maybe we are the same age, but some of you are half my age or twice my age. In this world it doesn’t really matter.

Sometimes I worry that I say too much. Sometimes I worry that I will run out of things to say.

Then I feel bad when I don’t hear from you for awhile. Are you okay? Sometimes my new friends disappear and I miss them. I think about the things that you have told me about your life. I can relate to your struggles. Sometimes I get attached. I find myself thinking about you when I am not in this world.

I understand how you may lose interest after the honeymoon phase of blogging wears off. It is a big time commitment. 

I understand that you may not have achieved your goals after you set the bar too high. Write about your failures. I want to hear about the good and the bad.

Sometimes I am jealous that you have more friends than I do. Maybe you will no longer be interested in my little blog. 

Sometimes I worry that you don’t have many followers or likes. I fear that you will become discouraged. 

If I don’t hear from you, I worry about you. I wonder why you left. 

Oh my gosh, did you die?? Would I even know? Or did you find that blogging was not for you. 

Does that mean that our friendship is over?? I’d hate for things to be one sided. I’ve never been one to totally dominate conversations.

Autism’s sibling, journal 2, part 3

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My mom said that Matt was a smart baby. He was speaking and knew the alphabet. Until he turned 2, that is. Then he quit talking altogether. Instead he screamed. He slept fitfully and had nightmares. For many early childhood years, Matt was nonverbal. Then something strange happened, he started talking.

Previous to the home bound years, my brothers and I attended the same grade school. I remember Matt being in the special ed room that was shared with the library. He spent a lot of time in the naughty box between the two rooms. He kicked and screamed in this box while the kids laughed when we went in for library. He also went out with us at recess. Some of the older girls mocked his bizarre movements and laughed at him. It made me very angry, but they were older and there was nothing I could do about it.

One day Matt told my mom that he didn’t like school. He said that the teacher was mean. He told us that she put him face down on the floor and sat on top of him. He said it was hard to breathe. The teacher also put him under her desk, then sat down squishing and trapping him inside. My mom asked me if this could possibly be true. By the time he could tell us what had happened, the teacher had already quit. The turnover was high and I am sure my brother didn’t help with that.

Matt was very hard to handle. He was so violent in the school setting that he had to be homeschooled for several years right around the time of puberty. We stayed at home 3 years, then Matt went back to school with me. My mom sent my youngest two brothers to two different schools. Some of the teachers at school gave my family a hard time for my autistic brother. They looked down upon us. Some of the kids weren’t much better. Like we wanted this? Or caused this?

When I came back to school my junior year, I was the first person in the school district to return to high school after homeschooling. They did not know what to do with me. They would not accept my transcripts from the accredited correspondence school. Some kids teased me by asking if I took off from school to have a baby.

After awhile Luke ended up going to high school with Matt. They graduated together. Mark graduated from a different school entirely. Matt took the short bus to school everyday. There was always a boy that would terrorize Matt on the bus. Sometimes he would get off of the bus with Matt and threaten to kill him. Mom was a little worried last summer that he would make good on his threat once he made parole for his violent criminal offenses.

After I graduated from high school, I came back to be Matt’s teacher’s aide. My best friend Shelly was his aide at school until she pressed criminal charges against Matt for assault when he pulled her hair. Matt was escorted out of the school in handcuffs. That was the end of Shelly’s employment and our friendship. The charges against Matt were dropped after his competency eval.

Then I was employed as Matt’s teacher’s aide for a short period of time. In the classroom, Matt had his own separate cubicle. Every time that I would try to get him to read or write he would grind his teeth and hit his head. Or sometimes he would hit me. He never did learn to read, write, or do basic math.

 

Autism’s sibling, journal 2, part 2

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“Did he touch you in a way that made you uncomfortable?”, asked my mom and her friend. “No” I kept replying. Although I do vaguely remember some lingering hugs with a little squeeze to the back side.

Something is wrong with Ann. She is acting weird. She loves Tim more than her parents. She bugs people. She is pretending a lot. She keeps hitting her dolls.

My mom got really close to Ann’s mom. Ann was a precocious 9 year old girl that was homeschooled. They didn’t have a TV in their house. They always wore drab clothes. The women and girls wore skirts or dresses. The women didn’t cut their hair. The girls wore their hair in braids and the women wore their hair up in buns. They were not Amish or Mennonite, their religious sect had an unusual name. Whenever I tried to look them up online, I always ended up on porn sites. I am sure that they do not embrace technology today any more than they did before.

Ann’s parents were really wonderful people. Her dad was very involved and excellent with the homeschooling kids. My mom started getting involved in their church. It really wasn’t like any church that I have ever known. It was a very closed group. You could only go if someone invited you. They would meet in back rooms of the mall that I never knew existed. They met in various towns in various locations. I remember it being a lot of preaching, several hours of sitting in a chair listening. They didn’t have pastors, instead they had brothers that travelled around in groups of two.

We started doing a lot of things with Ann’s family. Two of the “pastors” lived with Ann and her family for a couple months. There was a 28 year old man named Tim and an elderly man named Adolf. We went to their church. We hung out at their house. We also went other places like parks where we went hiking.

To be a part of this group, it was encouraged to take in these “pastors”. My mom had Tim and Adolf spent a few nights at our house. They slept in my bed. It really was a fun time. We didn’t have overnight visitors often. We were starting to spend a lot of time together. They took an interest in my life. Come to think of it, Tim and Adolf were the only adult overnight visitors that I ever remember having at our house when I was a child. Matt scared most people away.

Adolf liked to play the saw. He wanted someone to get him an old rag that he could put on his lap in order to play. My brothers came out with an old pair of my dad’s underwear. Ha ha. What goofs! Then he took the bow from my mom’s violin and played the saw. It made a rather eerie yet beautiful sound. Ann really liked Tim and always sat on his lap or was hanging on him. 

Once when we had homeschooling group at Ann’s house, she took all of the kids into her bedroom. She showed us a drawer that we should never go into. Then she would pop out of the room and come back in to find the boys looking in that drawer. Then she would cry, “Mom, the boys are in my underwear drawer.” She always got everyone in trouble. After awhile her behavior became a little less innocent. She started kissing and touching another 9 year old boy inappropriately.

Ann’s mom had a nervous breakdown. Tim likes Ann too much, but he had to leave.

Tim moved to Missouri to be part of another “church”. He still called me and wrote me letters for awhile. After he left, my mom was not interested in being a part of their church anymore.

Autism’s sibling, journal 2, part 1

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Back in the late 1980’s, I was homeschooled for 3 years from 8th through 10th grade. This is a time of my life that I never talk about. There is a gap when I talk about middle school and high school. I don’t fill it in. It was a time of great isolation and introspection. As an introvert, I really didn’t mind. It was just difficult explaining the reason that I was homeschooled.

My autistic brother Matt’s behavior was so violent that they no longer allowed him in school. Instead the school sent a retired school teacher out to the house. He was likely to physically attack someone that tried to force him to learn. It took the patience of a saint to handle that job. Since my mom had to majorly cut back her hours at work, she decided to take my younger brothers out of school and homeschool them as well. My mom gave me a choice because I was older. But I didn’t really feel like I had much of a choice. 

In the late 80’s, a vast majority of the few people that were homeschooling were doing it for religious reasons. My mom joined a group of these women. The kids were all a lot younger than me. My mom signed me up for an accredited correspondence school. When two of my friend’s moms heard that I was leaving school, they dragged their kids out of school for a few months as well.

My friend’s mom cited religious persecution as the reason for pulling her youngest two children out of school. But I never thought that was true. To be honest with you, the kids were just strange. Yes, my friend’s older sister read the Bible over lunch period at school. But she was also the girl that I often saw standing in front of the class room blowing her nose loudly. Then she would stand in front of the class while the teacher was talking and pick her nose for another 10 minutes. It also didn’t help that she had red hair, acne, was overweight, had coke bottle glasses that made her eyes look like pins, and had an obsession with math. Her younger brother had similar social issues. The kids on the school bus took a scissors and cut the shirt off of his back. That was because every time someone said gosh or heck, he told them that they were going to hell. My friend, however, was relatively normal compared to her siblings. 

One time while I was staying at her house, someone drove by at night and threw a bottle through their front window. It is unfortunate how mean kids can be to someone that doesn’t fit in. I felt a little sorry for them yet at the same time felt embarrassed to associate with them. Even though Matt was teased a lot, he didn’t seem to realize it as much as my brothers and I did. My friend and I had having outcast siblings in common. Who knows, maybe they were on the spectrum too.

During this time, my mom spent a lot of time with her new friends. We went to Bible study all the time. When I wasn’t with my friend, she was at church or meetings at someones house which was basically church. We even went to church camp together for two summers. We had to wear pants at all times and weren’t allowed to swim. I had the opportunity to visit my friend while we were in Texas last year. I asked her if she still went to church. She said that she didn’t because she spent enough time there as a child to last her a whole lifetime. 

In the home bound years, my mom actively sought support from her new friends by taking an interest in their church groups. We even were able to be involved with the Amish community. I had the opportunity to go to an Amish wedding. How many people can say that they have done that? I think that at one time my mom was ready to leave the Lutheran church. She probably would have if it wasn’t for Aunt Grace. 

Then something happened to bring it all to a crashing halt.

The travel diaries, Mackinac Island

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At the point where Lake Michigan and Lake Huron collide lies the beautiful Mackinac Island. On the map, you will find it between Upper and Lower Michigan visible from the daunting Mackinac Bridge which connects Michigan. It was here that I remember a dream being born. It was on this island that Paul told me that he would like to try sailing for the first time. He said this as we watched sailboats enter the harbor finishing a sailing race from Chicago to Mackinac Island. He said that he could see himself on that sailboat race someday. It has been about 100 years since the first sailboat race from Chicago to Mackinac Island. Who knows? Maybe for the 100th anniversary you might see us there. It is one of the world’s longest sailboat races that takes place in freshwater and we wouldn’t even need a plane ticket to get there.

It took many years for the dream to take root and grow. It has been at least a decade since we have visited the island. This will be our third year of having a sailboat. Sorry for the lack of pictures. The last time I visited was before I even had a digital camera. Okay, maybe it has been more than ten years. I think we visited the island for our 5th anniversary, but so much water has passed under the bridge since then that I am even having a hard time recollecting that.

The first time that we visited the island, we stayed in St. Ignace. We loved the island so much that we decided to stay there on another trip. While we were in St. Ignace, we took the bridge over to Mackinaw City where at the time was a water park. We spent the warmest day at the water park. I remember it was in the upper 60’s in the middle of summer. A cold wind was blowing off the lake while we froze. I wonder if that water park is still there? It didn’t seem like an ideal location to me.

Our second trip to the island we stayed in a little B&B near the harbor downtown. The room itself was the size of a large closet. But it didn’t really matter that much to me. We were there to explore everything on the island. The island employees a lot of seasonal summer help from Jamaica. The woman that served breakfast in the morning was from there. She softly sang Annie’s Song while cooking and cleaning up. It was so soothing to hear her singing that I decided we would spend our 10th anniversary in Jamaica.  We liked the culture of the people. They seemed to be carefree and happy. I bet that woman never knew she had an impact on my travel choices.

When you step foot on the island, you are instantly transported back in time. Motorized vehicles are not allowed on the island. The main mode of transportation are bikes and horses. It is relaxing hearing the horses feet clop while falling asleep at night. Paul and I spent a lot of time biking. The island is 8 miles around with a paved bike trail surrounding the perimeter of the island. We witnessed a bike accident one time while we were there. A little boy ran out in front of a group of bicyclists. No one was seriously hurt, but the child was scraped up pretty badly. Paul took his canteen over to the child and cleaned his wounds.

The outside bike path can get pretty congested at times. The second trip we brought bikes instead of renting them. This allowed us to explore the inner parts of the island. Otherwise you need to rent bikes which can get pricey. The inner part of the island is rather hilly. We road by the airport, the governor of Michigan’s summer house, and explored several old cemetaries. The island is also home to a fort which we explored and ate supper at while overlooking the island.

As far as nightlife goes, we spent a couple evenings at The Pink Pony bar and grill. They featured live music which most of the time was a man playing classic rock songs on his acoustic guitar. It was a very popular place to go.

The last time that I visited the island, I stayed at the Grand Hotel. I went with a group of church ladies for a women’s retreat. We went during the week at the end of the season (which I believe is in October) when the last ferries go to the island with visitors. The hotel itself seems to be rather old but not unkept. It is fashioned in the Victorian style. We took our picture next to an antique carriage displayed inside. It really gives the flavor of staying at a classy late 1800’s resort for rich snobby people. I think it would be fun to go there dressed in era fashions or do some sort of Victorian period murder mystery party. Our meals were included in our stay which was in a large ornate hall. They had a 4 piece jazz band that played during the meal. The ambiance was remarkable and the food I remember was delectable too. I remember eating a very good lobster bisque and creme brulee there which says a lot since I haven’t been there in a decade.

There is also an 80’s movie called Somewhere in Time which was filmed at the Grand Hotel. I am sorry to say that never passed the sleep test for me. No matter what I did, I couldn’t stay awake while watching it. So I would pass on that unless you are into slow pace romance movies, then maybe.

Mackinac Island is also known for its fudge. The island has several fudge shops, candy stores, and ice cream parlors. Mackinac Island fudge ice cream is also available. Just stay away from the Mackinac Island horse apples. They aren’t good. 

Even though you are surrounded by water, you will not find many beaches or swimming pools on the island. You can leave the bike trails at any time and jump in the water. I wouldn’t suggest it because the water is very cold. Very few people live on the island year round.

If you visit the island, you will feel the peacefulness of stepping back in time while still enjoying modern conveniences such as running water and electricity. To get the full experience, leave your cell phone in your car. Or take it one step further and dress like characters from Little House on the Prairie. Now that would be fun!

 

The travel diaries, St. Lucia part 2

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If you ever plan a trip to St. Lucia, you absolutely have to spend the day at Pigeon Island. It is a park on a hill that used to be a fort at one time. You will find yourself surrounded by ancient relics in the most beautiful place in the world.

If you are staying at a Sandals resort do not buy the excursion there. Simply get yourself to the Sandals Grand St. Lucian resort. Then walk across the parking lot until you get to the enterance. You will see someone in what looks like a toll booth. If I remember right, we paid less than $10 per couple to get in.

I took the first picture from the top of the hill facing the Sandals resort. The resort itself is on the middle left hand side of the picture with the red roofs. This resort has a very impressive beach as well which we enjoyed. It also seems like a popular sailing destination.

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It was wonderful to travel with friends for many reasons. One of the best reasons was that we were able to get so many pictures together as a couple which we didn’t get in other locations. We both purchased expensive cameras to capture every minute of the best trip I have ever been on.

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This is a picture of Lisa and I sitting on top of a building within the fort.

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The view on top of the fort.

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The picture above is my favorite picture of Paul and I that was ever taken. We were able to explore the park at our leisure. It wasn’t crowded inside. The best part was that we could walk within the crumbling structures. It wasn’t cordoned off in any way. There weren’t any signs that cautioned danger. It was something that I know would be frowned upon if not downright illegal in the U.S.

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It was falling apart. It was dangerous. It was fun.

We were so in love with St. Lucia that we didn’t want to leave.