We are off tomorrow on yet another journey of a lifetime. We have to do it while we can. This time we are off to Geneva, Zermatt, the Dolomites, Ljubljana, Florence, Cinque Terre, and finally Milan. It’s a return visit to Florence for us. That place, with its history and culture, is a magnet.
Once one the ground we’ll be using our favorite forms of transportation – our feet, and the amazing European train system.
I’ll probably be writing throughout. I don’t sleep a whole lot compared to other mortals and have time in the early morning for this purpose.
This blog, more than anything, is my personal journal. I’ve been asked why I do not simply write and keep it under wraps, like a diary. I don’t get that at all. I have had to change my name to a nom de plume recently, as there are some nasty people out there. But understand, that has nothing to do with other bloggers or commenters, all of whom have good manners mostly, or just somewhat, like me.
Paul Marshall is my “porn name,” our middle name coupled with the street we were born on. If you were born on a numbered street, it’s a little more difficult, but do try it on your own … it usually sounds porny. I don’t know why.
My writings here go back to 2006, and the changes in my outlook during that time are a trip on a vine over a chasm – hoping like hell for a safe landing. Just asking a question leads to a whole new outlook. I know all about security in moderate views, how hiding from exposure to ugly truths leads to a more stable existence. However, once the question was asked, I was on the vine. The destination is no safer than a return journey.
I now have the ability to go back and review my own thoughts from 2006 to now, not knowing then where I was headed. I cringe at times, but am forgiving. It’s a journey.
Perhaps the greatest movie I have seen in my time was the Godfather, Part 2. But the best was Blazing Saddles, Mel Brooks’ masterpiece. Below is a scene encapsulating American politics. (Important back story for the viewer: the town is Rock Ridge, somewhere in the west. The townspeople are frightened by evildoers. Everyone in town shares the last name “Johnson,” and all of the Johnson’s support and agree all the other Johnson’s. There’s an ice cream store in the middle of the town with a large sign that says “Howard Johnson’s – One Flavor”.)
[Sorry about the ad, but this is The United States America, where advertisers are free to interrupt any gathering at any time for any purpose. Hell, they even get to target kids!]