Florida day 5

September 24

Saturday morning arrived and we had our day mapped out for us already when we awoke. Whereas the first days here in Deerfield Beach were pretty much unstructured and laid back, this day had several important elements planned in advance. Earlier I had searched the Internet (as I usually had with each town we found ourselves in on Saturdays) to find out where Conservative/Masorti synagogues were located. This morning it was decided that we would attend Temple Beth Israel in Sunrise, FL. This was not the closest Masorti synagogue to Barry and Brenda's current location. Those would have been located in Boca Raton. And it was not the synagogue Barry and Brenda themselves attend. It was the synagogue closest to the place where Maria (Razelle's grandmother's caregiver from her childhood) lived. From the Temple Beth Israel website I learned that their rabbi had been a student of our rabbi in Beer Sheva when they were both originally in Argentina. This discovery was the most important factor for us. This Rabbi here in Florida, the rabbi we had met in Las Vegas and the rabbinic couple we would be going to in Atlanta for Rosh Hashanah, all had close connections with our own rabbi in Beer Sheva.

Although I made it known to Razelle that it was important to me that we arrive in time for the Torah service, I myself tarried too long at Barry and Brenda's place. I also underestimated the time it would take us to travel that far, so we only arrived in time to hear the Haftarah. I felt bad about getting there that late. We missed the chance to say the prayer for the sick during the Torah reading service. However, we did get to hear the rabbi's sermon. It dealt with the topic of leadership (e.g. Moses') in regards to the world leaders who spoke at the UN during their debate over Palestinian statehood. Members of the congregation took turns expressing their thoughts on this topic, but I remained silent and invisible while I listened to them express their feelings.

At end of services, visitors to their synagogue were asked to rise and introduce themselves. I rose and mentioned that Razelle and I were from Israel; from the congregation led by their rabbi's teacher, and that we were traveling around the world. After services, we were surrounded by congregants who welcomed us enthusiastically and wanted to get to know us better. They knew key members from our own community back in Beer Sheva who had participated in their services here in Sunrise. At the Kiddush meal I sought out the rabbi and discussed his sermon with him and with those at his table, while Razelle discussed the economy with the people who sat with her at her table. It was a satisfying experience for both of us, each in our own way. We exchanged contact info some of them, but didn't write it down. We will find them on the Temple Beth Israel web pages later.

We drove next to Maria's home nearby. Razelle and I were impressed with its location, set as it was among canals with water-birds swimming on their shimmering surfaces. Razelle and Maria and her family had much to talk about. While they got reacquainted I drove off to the huge Ikea store beside the synagogue we had just prayed at. Barry had purchased some merchandise there that proved to be defective and he asked if I'd mind returning it while I was so nearby. There are far fewer Ikea stores in Florida than I had imagined, so this was actually an important favor I was happy to do for him. I parked the van in their massive parking garage and walked into the store. I was directed to the returns department and had to consult with Barry by telephone to know which of the several options mentioned was the one he wanted. I searched the store for the department where candles were sold but found none that were suitable for the memorial candles we wanted to light during Rosh Hashanah in Atlanta. I called Brenda and she told me such candles could be purchased at any Publix grocery store. I had entered the Ikea just ahead of a great downpour and again, as I drove away, another classic downpour ensued. Here in Florida they are typically intense but over in a matter of minutes.

I programmed my GPS to take me to the nearest Publix. It was part of a shopping plaza, but there were shopping plazas on three of the four corners at the intersection it took me to. I had a hard time guessing which of them was the right one, and naturally I guessed wrong twice and had a lot of corrective maneuvers to do to get back to that intersection each time. Once I found the Publix I had to navigate within the store to find the shelves with the candles. I bought three memorial candles there. Mission accomplished.

I returned in yet another brief downpour to Maria's home. Traffic in this area on a Saturday afternoon was not light by any means, and through the rapid swiping of the vans wipers and because its defroster caused circles of condensation to form on the glass where they directed their icy blast it was a bit of a challenge. Yet, by the time I had reached Maria's place the rain had stopped and the sun had come out to ensure that the relative humidity here would remain as high as possible.

When I entered the house Razelle produced a pair of scissors and sat me down for my first haircut in over three months. Rosh Hashanah is less than a week away, so it was definitely time for this. Maria has a couple of caged parrots. Petunia is the ornerier of the two and she does not interact well with strangers. She can talk when she wants to and I tried with some success to coax some words out of her. She watched me from her cage as Razelle cut my hair and when it was done Petunia actually whistled her approval. She seemed to accept me, despite my being a stranger, and when I tried to pet her head through the bars she indicated that she liked it and wanted more. When it was time to leave I said good bye to Petunia. She screeched in protest when I said we were leaving. I had befriended this parrot and she didn't want me to leave. Razelle and Maria were very impressed to see how well Petunia had bonded with me.

We returned to Barry and Brenda's place to have them take us to our favorite restaurant on this trip. Here in southern Florida you can't just show up at one of these and get a table. We had to wait half an hour before one was free. They give you a beeper that lets you know when that is. Isn't that something? According to Barry this is still low season in this area. During high season you can't get in at all without a prior reservation. In southern Florida, high season is during the winter months. That makes sense. While we waited for our table we looked around at what the other (elderly) patrons were wearing. Razelle remarked that I ought to get myself some short parts like the retired men we saw had on. That's not gonna happen! I don't know how they could think that these guys looked good dressed that way. Not even Charlie Sheen on "Two and a Half Men" can pull of that look. I certainly have no interest in emulating that fashion example.

The meal was great, and, as always, since our arrival in Deerfield Beach, our conversations never grew stale during our time together with Barry and Brenda. We returned to their home to continue talking there until we all felt it was time to call it a day. We went to bed with repacking unaccomplished. This would be our last night with Barry and Brenda before we pointed our van northward for the final leg of this American segment of our round-the-world journey. What lay ahead of us was a complicated array of high holidays and visits with people all up and down the eastern seaboard, timed very carefully to accommodate them all. The prospects seemed daunting, yet doable. Time would tell if we could pull it all off. We had hoped to leave here for Columbia, South Carolina on our way to Atlanta, but after several phone calls from Fred and Belle, we realized that our stop in Columbia would have to come after Rosh Hashanah and not before. These were the last topics Razelle and I talked about before we sank into slumber.

Florida day 4

September 23

During the night, autumn began in the northern hemisphere of this planet. We began this round-the-world journey on June 19th while it was still officially spring. We were in Australia during winter there and in the USA during summer here. Today marks the beginning of our fourth season on this journey. Thus, in a few days more than three full months we have experienced all four seasons. Quite an accomplishment!

It was a fitful night for me. I couldn't sleep because of the unresolved credit card issue. When I awoke (implying that I had actually slept) I tried other ways to surf the Internet in search of an emergency number for contacting Isracard. I found the emergency number on their English-language website! I called it! A real person answered! After a conversation in Hebrew with the person at the other end I was told my card was still good but that it had been blocked because I had entered the wrong zip code at a gas station in Florida, as I had come to suspect (it was the right zip code, but the wrong country!). After a few minutes of suspense on the line I was told by the person at the other end that the block on my card had been lifted. My card was good again! Through the fog of my bleary sleeplessness a light of joyfulness broke over me. When Barry awoke I asked him if he could verify these tidings for me. Sure enough, Barry saw that my card most certainly was valid again. The contrast between yesterday's despondency and today's elation was impossible to conceal.

Razelle and I set out to find a bank so we could replenish our cash supply. I went into the bank my GPS directed me to because of its nearness to Barry and Brenda's place and because it seemed to be a branch of a large reputable bank. I walked up to a clerk inside the bank and handed my card to him in hopes of withdrawing another wad of dollars from our account in Israel. The clerk told me he couldn't accept my card. What now? Why not? It had no signature on the back. I explained that this was my way of preventing my signature from being stolen, in the event the card might be stolen. We were too far from home to risk such a thing during our round-the-world trip. The clerk had his instructions and he could not circumvent them no matter how logical my explanation might seem to me. However, when I pointedly asked him, he had to admit that, yes, the very same card could be used in the very same bank's ATM outside to withdraw cash without the need of a signature. I turned on the spot and walked out the door and up to the ATM. However, for caution's sake, I used Razelle's card instead to withdraw the cash I had been denied inside. True, the amount I could withdraw out there was limited to half of what I had hoped for, but the ATM didn't look for a signature on the back of the card! So now we had cash again. It felt good. Our trip seemed to be back on track.

Razelle and I returned to Barry and Brenda's place. We placed the dolls in the box and filled it up with a mixture of carefully arranged hard and soft items to be shipped back to Israel. While Razelle did our laundry, Barry helped immensely by professionally sealing up the box with his packing tape, weighing it with his package scale, and preparing and printing the shipping and customs labels with his computer. With about 20 minutes to spare before the post office closed, Barry took me and my package there with the relevant forms. The parcel weighed between 10 and 11 kg. I paid the fee with my credit card, which was accepted without a hitch. The package was mailed successfully. The card's validity was duly confirmed. Life was good.

Shabbat was nigh. Barry grilled salmon for our traditional Friday evening meal. Razelle and Brenda each lit Shabbat candles, and we all sang the blessing over the wine in chorus. It was nice to be with family this special evening of the week. We finished the meal before it was entirely dark outside. Razelle and I walked out to the promenade along the beach ahead of Barry and Brenda. The deep colors of fading twilight and the light tropical breeze pushing salty waves onto a white sandy beach all lent themselves to the sense of tranquility that I felt at the beginning of this Shabbat. Barry and Brenda joined us and they and I walked onto the fishing pier and out over the Atlantic Ocean while Razelle rested under the eaves of a gazebo on the promenade. From the end of the pier we could see soundless lightning flickering in the distance. As we watched, it became apparent that this lightning was approaching us from that distance. The display was electric and exciting, but we felt no sense of urgency as we returned to where Razelle rested. We collected her and headed back to Barry and Brenda's place before the storm became audible. I actually relished the thought of experiencing the warm rain it would bring, but we didn't wait for this. We passed a group of diligent people in identical training uniforms breaking up and leaving the beach after having completed a well-disciplined calisthenics exercise. They reminded me of police recruits, perhaps. The four of us continued up the street to our sanctuary from the elements. It was a very pretty way to begin the Shabbat and a very satisfying way to end a day of accomplishments.

Florida day 3

September 22

Because our chat last evening went on so late into the night, we awoke later than usual this morning and lounged in bed a while. It was a leisurely morning. I brought most of our bags in from the van so we could sort through their contents and reorganize them. Among other things, Razelle wanted to get all our dirty clothes together to put them into Brenda's washing machine. It also seemed like a good idea by now to finally put together the next parcel we wanted to ship back to Israel. This required some decision making as to which items we should include with the dolls in the box that had been bought in Columbia, MO for that specific purpose.

For lunch, Barry and I went outside to the grill by the swimming pool to grill chicken and hotdogs and asparagus for lunch. While these were cooking Barry and I had a chance to talk about life here in southern Florida. The weather was a bit too warm and humid for me, but Barry said it was ideal weather, in his opinion. A small greenish "iguana" (Barry's name for it, even though I think it was some other kind of reptile) with a curly tail scrambled part way up the coconut tree beside our picnic table and changed to a darker grayish brown color to match the tree trunk as we watched it. Barry explained that iguanas are ordinarily quite large, but now there are only these small ones because a killer freeze last year decimated their numbers. They froze and dropped out of the trees in a massive die-off. Their population is just now beginning to recover. While we were cooking, a young woman came out to the pool to get some sun, despite the gathering clouds overhead. As we headed back to the apartment with our food a light rain began to fall, and a more intense downpour ensued shortly afterwards, while we were inside eating. I don't imagine this young woman got much of a tan in that short time.

After lunch Razelle and I rode with Barry and Brenda to tour the area and also to take care of some "errands" along the way. Our first stop was the CVS where Razelle dropped off some film for development. I wanted to buy a $50 card here to top up my T-mobile cell phone, but because I couldn't figure out how the card worked I didn't buy it. Instead, Barry took me to a T-Mobile store nearby, where I was informed that I still had $40 worth of credit on my account and only needed to add $10 to cover the next month's usage. Good thing we went there! That saved me quite a bundle.

Barry and Brenda then took us to see some of the area's sites, including the Deerfield Beach waterfront, the condominium where Daniel lives, and high-end homes in Boca Raton, which we passed on our way to a "Babies R Us," store where Razelle wanted to buy something specific for our granddaughter Noga. While they all shopped for this item I went next door to the Chuck E. Cheese's emporium. They insisted I had to have a number stamped on my hand to enter, so I left un-tallied. We then drove to a large indoor flea market. As we parked, Barry fielded a call from a customer who wanted to buy his merchandise. The conversation was on speaker phone and it was fascinating to hear the repartee. Barry made the sale! Way to go Barry! Pretty enviable that Barry can earn a living while driving around in his car!

Inside the flea market I drifted over to the food-market section while Razelle and Brenda looked at other merchandise. I was impressed by the selection of acorn squashes they were selling in every color you can imagine. These were specifically bred as thanksgiving decorations for cornucopia, etc. I asked Barry what color the interior of these squashes might be but neither he nor the vendors could answer that question. Apparently no one was buying them for food. I returned to the ladies to find that Razelle had finally bought the dress watch she'd always wanted.

Barry and Brenda then took us to a favorite restaurant of theirs, called Carrabba's Italian Grill. I ordered the house salad with blue cheese dressing (my good old standby when there isn't much else for me to choose from). Razelle and I wanted to pick up the tab, but when I handed the waitress my credit card at the end of the meal she came back with it to tell me it had been rejected by the credit card company. Barry paid as an anxious knot formed in my stomach. My worst-case scenario of a useless credit card was happening! We stopped to pick up Razelle's developed pictures and Barry paid for those, too. Our cash had nearly been depleted by now from purchasing gas with it so often, so it was time for us to withdraw some more. But how? I was afraid to try my credit card in an ATM machine for fear it would be permanently lost. I was really discouraged by all of this.

We returned to Barry and Brenda's place with me thoroughly upset. I went out to the van and sat there alone in the dark to try and gather my wits. The heat of the Florida night was still quite oppressive in that van. My discomfort out there influenced me to take the remaining half of our Wyoming snowball into the apartment to put it into Barry and Brenda's freezer for safekeeping in case the van's refrigerator battery drained in the heat here in Florida as it had in Palm Desert, CA at the beginning of our trip. I asked them all to remind me to take our half snowball back at the end of our visit. We've left enough things behind along the way by now that I didn't trust myself to remember. Considering my agitated state of mind this evening, it seemed like a good insurance policy to ask others to help me keep track of this.

Because of Barry's private business, he had the means to check the validity of my credit card and of Razelle's credit card. In doing so, he discovered that Razelle's card was still OK, but that mine had been blocked. I tried surfing the Isracard website via our bank's website but the link wouldn't open for me. I tried calling the phone number in Israel on the back of the credit card but the recording I got when I called said that it was after business hours (it was already Friday in Israel) and they were closed for the weekend. I couldn't come up with a work-around solution at this point and neither could Barry. We weren't entirely up the creek without a paddle, though; we still had two other credit cards to fall back on. It just disturbed me beyond rationality that something I must have done caused this predicament and I couldn't fix it until after the weekend. I went to bed with this hanging over my head and fitfully dreamed all night long about possible scenarios for solving this mess. The sleep I did get wasn't worth much.

Florida day 2

September 21

The bed was so luxurious that we slept past the time we should have to see Brent before he left for work, so we didn't have the chance to thank him this morning. Ricki was still there, though. She showed us around her magnificent home (they have an infinity pool in the back, like the one we saw atop the Sands Hotel in Singapore) and she insisted on taking us out to breakfast. I was concerned about reaching my cousin Beth by our appointed hour, but we took Ricki up on her offer and followed her to Peaches in Bradenton for breakfast. Once again I ordered grits … can't get enough of that stuff. They prepared it differently here from what I'm used to – it had pepper in it. Ricki had an appointment of her own to keep so after thanking her (and Brent) for their hospitality we hurried in separate directions.

We drove to Beth's feed store, nearby (I drove past it twice without identifying it) and had a wonderful reunion; it's been ages since we've seen each other. Razelle had a wonderful time talking with Beth's customers and sparring with them about political matters. Razelle was in her element. I wandered around the store and accompanied Beth's helper (Randy, who hales from Montana) to see the bales of New-Mexico-grown hay they have stored in back. I learned about horse feed and hay from Randy, and I also enjoyed talking about the geography of those states just mentioned, because we'd been there not so long ago. Beth and I talked about her mother's (my Aunt Anna Mae's) last declining years. We miss her. Beth is a very savvy person. I must find a way someday to visit with her again. I'm sorry this visit couldn't have lasted longer. Beth's daughter Michelle and son Billy and Billy's girlfriend Lexii arrived before we left so we could meet them, too. We gave them the grand tour of our van and all of its salient features. They are just the right age to appreciate these features and I couldn't get over how much they truly did. I asked Lexii and Michelle if the "mood lights" in the van were really that enticing and they both smiled and answered, "Absolutely."

We posed for pictures in front of the feed store, including Beth's German shepherd, who had so obediently stayed away from Razelle during our entire visit. Beth gave me a souvenir hat and we parted company from her and her gang with warm hugs all around.

I tried to buy gas in Bradenton before I set off across the empty interior of the Florida peninsula to the Atlantic side. I tried my credit card at the pump but it was rejected. The same occurred at the second gas station, so I paid cash. "Hmm, what's with gas stations in this state?" I wondered. No other state had given me this much trouble.

We then drove to Myakka City to see Uncle Dave on Beth's farm. Uncle Dave came out of his house to greet us when he heard us drive up. It was a great pleasure to see him again. Uncle Dave is so bright and friendly. Razelle enjoyed his sprightly manner and sharp mind and he enjoyed Razelle's company in return. We sat in the air-conditioned house and visited a while. A digital thermometer indicated that outside the temperature was a hot and steamy 97°F (36°C). It suited Razelle just fine to stay put and talk with Uncle Dave, but the heat did not deter me from going out to tour the farm.

Beth has a nice spread out here; geese squawked at me from the shore of their pond; a donkey came over to the fence to greet me, followed by a pair of horses that didn't want to be left out in case I had something to feed them (which I didn't). They let me pet their foreheads and then they ambled off. The cats, peacocks and chickens I encountered during my tour, however, gave me a wide berth.

We parted from Uncle Dave too soon. We wished the visit could have lasted longer, but Razelle's cousin Jeanne was expecting us in Fort Lauderdale and we had a schedule to keep. For days now we have been discussing and negotiating and planning this rendezvous with Jeanne, one of the few relatives Razelle could see during this trip (compared to my so very many relatives), so this rendezvous was especially important to her.

We drove along US-27 around the south shore of Lake Okeechobee through alternating cloudbursts and great numbers of splattering bugs. The wiper fluid reservoir in the van was getting low so I made a game of squinting through the copious flecks of insect guts on the glass before me while I waited for the next and the next dependable car-washing deluge of a cloudburst to clear the glass each time. It was a long ride over straight four-lane divided highway surprisingly empty of traffic. This is how I entertained myself to pass the time.

I also had the opportunity to take a crude census of the wildlife that resides in this part of Florida, based on the road-killed critters we passed: armadillos, raccoons, turtles and even an alligator. Nowhere else on our round-the-world journey had we seen such an exotic mix of mammal and reptile corpses. The clumps of feathers we passed were not so easily identified. How could anyone say this was a boring place to be? The only disappointment for me was that the vast body of water that is Lake Okeechobee could not be viewed from the road because of the high levee that surrounded it.

I watched the dashboard clock ticking up and the GPS ticking down and saw that we would arrive in Ft Lauderdale at sunset, a good half an hour ahead of schedule. Razelle was elated that our complicated schedule had worked out so well – despite the distances we had had to cover, we were going to be waiting for Jeanne instead of making her wait for us. We parked at the restaurant in Ft. Lauderdale that was our rendezvous point and went in to get a table while we waited for her and Walter.

This restaurant is the south-eastern-most destination on our path across this continent. It seemed like ages ago we were at the diagonally opposite corner of the USA, at the fish ladder in Seattle, WA, our north-western-most destination. We had covered so much territory and zigzagged our way across so much of the continent and experienced so many memorable moments just to reach this restaurant ahead of schedule to reflect upon it all while we waited for Jeanne and Walter to arrive. This was such an important reunion between cousins; we had been trying since Arkansas to make this rendezvous fit and it had! Jeanne called to tell us that Walter had already arrived but he couldn't find us. Razelle cruised around the restaurant looking into the faces of every single man there until she found him. Jeanne arrived shortly thereafter. Over our meal we all had a great time talking about our trip and catching up on Jeanne's experiences since she and Walter had last been in Beer Sheva.

We finally parted from Jeanne and Walter and drove to Deerfield Beach to be hosted by Barry and Brenda. It had been a long day but we had so much to talk about that we were up until after midnight, chatting about aspects of our trip and similar experiences Barry and Brenda had had during trips they had taken. Finally at the end of what seemed like one our fullest days, we crawled into the bed we'd been given and went to sleep.

Florida day 1

September 20

What a terrible night we had last night! No breeze ever came up and it was hot and sticky in the van. Razelle woke up often to complain about the conditions. The van has four small sliding windows along its sides with screens to keep out insects. Opening all these should have let a breeze blow through without letting insects in, but there was no breeze. The van also has hinged windows on the back doors and side doors that open a few inches, but they have no screens, so opening these had the potential of letting insects in when the van is parked (and of letting in exhaust fumes when the engine is running). Opening these didn't help either, although we imagined at first that we felt a difference. Opening the front door windows might have helped but then that would have left us vulnerable to people getting in, so that was out of the question. Razelle couldn't bear it. By 4 o'clock in the morning she went into Josh's air-conditioned house and sat in a chair to doze until the sun was up. I was uncomfortable in the van, too, but I was asleep when she left and I only discovered she was missing when I awoke in my own sweat after sunrise. By then Razelle had showered and she glared at me when I entered the house to look for her. I took a quick sponge bath and then woke Josh to thank him for hosting us. Razelle didn't speak to me as we drove through Gainesville, but words were not needed for me to know what she was thinking.

I tried to buy gas with my credit card before we left Gainesville but the pump again told me my card wasn't valid. I went to see the clerk and he also told me that my card had not been accepted by the system. I tried a second gas station and the same thing happened there. I bought the fuel with cash. We then drove to Altamonte Springs to visit with Keith and Yelena.

We could have taken Florida's Turnpike, but because it is a toll road, I decided to take US-441 instead. That decision didn't earn me any points with Razelle, either, because this took us through Ocala and Mt. Dora FL, and every traffic light we came to turned red as we approached. It was hot in the van and the air-conditioning proved to be inadequate once again, especially whenever we were stopped by a light. Razelle was miserable on all accounts. It was so tedious going this way. These used to be such small towns when I lived in Florida in the 1960s; they were so much more developed now.

Keith had been my best friend in Jr. High when we lived in Orlando. This is a friendship that has endured five decades. I made a point to visit him twice over the years when he lived in California. Now that he was back in Florida I really wanted to include a visit with him in our round-the-world itinerary. We had a wonderful reunion. I got to meet Yelena for the first time and was utterly charmed by her. She went to a lot of trouble to be a perfect hostess. She made delicious chicken soup with matzo balls just for us. They have a dog Razelle reacted strongly to because of her allergy to dogs, so she stayed in a room the dog is not allowed in while I visited with Keith and Yelena. They and I talked extensively about our trip and I showed them my photos, which they appreciated very much because of their critical eye for photography. During our visit, a thunderstorm came up suddenly and passed just as quickly; such a nostalgic event. After the rain stopped, we said our warm goodbyes and drove on.

We drove through Winter Park to Genius Drive, where our father would often take us kids on a scenic drive to see the old Spanish-moss draped trees and the peacocks that lived there. We drove to the neighborhood I used to live in and I posed in front of my old boyhood home. Our timing was perfect. The owner arrived while I was posing. He was very friendly; he accompanied us into the back yard so I could see where the trees once stood that I and my brothers used to climb on and where we had build a tree fort under them. His wife arrived next; she had moved into the neighborhood two years after my family moved out. She knew many of the neighbors I used to know.

I showed Razelle my old elementary school, which I was attending when Kennedy was shot. I showed Razelle where my old Jr. High School had been before it was torn down; in its place there now is a VERY ritzy neighborhood with a waterwheel at its entrance. I showed Razelle where the Boy's Club once was; an expressway runs through there now. I showed Razelle where the synagogue had been that was the scene of my Bar Mitzvah; it's now an office block. I showed Razelle Lake Eola where I'd heard Hubert Humphrey give a speech and where water skiers put shows on for us and where my Grandpa Louis walked with my dad and me while I fed the ducks. I showed Razelle the Albertson Library where I checked out books and read newspapers from far-away places. Orlando has changed so much, but it still meant a lot to me to visit all these places with Razelle at my side.

We got onto I-4 and drove west. This took us past exits leading to Disney World and Sea World and a number of other related theme parks, one after the other. Most of the traffic going this direction with us got off at these exits, leaving us with an open road we could sail down without hindrance. As we set out I had Razelle call ahead to let Brent know we were on our way to Bradenton, now. I expected it would take longer to get there than it actually did. When I had lived in Florida in the 1960s, the Gulf side of the state seemed to be so much farther away than the Ocean side. After the awful night we'd had sleeping in the van in Gainesville, Razelle wanted to be sure we didn't have a repeat of the same. She asked Brent if his home had air-conditioning. A reasonable question, but it struck Brent and me as being a very humorous one. I imagine there aren't many homes in Florida that don't have air-conditioning, but now that I think about it, I don't recall whether or not our home in Orlando did or not in the 1960s.

The sun set upon us as we pulled into a rest area on I-75 along Florida's Gulf Coast. Sunsets along the west coast of the Florida peninsula are legendarily breathtaking. We had the privilege of experiencing this one from among parked semi-trailers under clouds painted gold and crimson and amber and umber. We shared this scene with the pair of smartly uniformed highway patrolmen who man these rest areas. We saw the same set of law enforcers at the rest area we stopped at in the Florida panhandle when we first entered this state. I imagined in my paranoid mind that Razelle and I must look to them like homeless types pulling in for a pit stop at sunset with hopes of staying until the sun came up again. Our bug-spattered van would have added to the effect. When Razelle returned to the van, we drove on into the last of the sunset.

We reached Brent and Ricki's home in Lakewood Ranch, a suburban community adjoining Bradenton FL, after dark. It had been a very full day. We were greeted by Ricki, who knew to expect us. We were very impressed by the architecture of their home. Brent and I had gone to Israel together on the "Summer in Kibbutz" program in 1974. I haven't seen him since, but, thanks to Facebook, we were able to renew our acquaintance. We found a vibrant family here, including Brent and Ricki's Israeli son-in-law, who Razelle talked with about raising bilingual children. Brent wasn't home when we got there, but he arrived shortly thereafter. He remembered many incidents from our past, as we came of age in Toledo, OH and he remembered our summer at Kibbutz Yassur in the Western Galilee. He helped me remember some of the people and events I had forgotten about from that special summer, which I had hoped he might recall. It was hard for me to stay awake late this evening and Razelle had already bid them good night before I had. I excused myself while Ricki and Brent caught up on the day's events and I joined Razelle in the guest bedroom they had set up for us. We slept soundly on a nice bed for a change and appreciated the air-conditioner very much.

Alabama to Florida

September 19

This morning I awoke when there was enough light to declare night over and a new day begun. The occasional flash of headlights randomly pointed our way during the night had me looking forward to their no longer being needed by their drivers. I walked into the Walmart for the usual purpose this morning and saw a stand of pink lemonade in small bottles on sale for a very low price. I bought four bottles. As we drank the first ones to start our day, Razelle and I discovered that the quality of the product was as low as the price.

We drove to Birmingham, AL and hit morning rush-hour traffic that crawled – when it moved at all. We left the highway and headed for the nearest IHOP, guided by my trusty GPS, to make better use of our time. While we ate (I ordered grits, as usual) I was able to surf the web using IHOP's free Wi-Fi service. A lot of important communication with others throughout this trip has been through chatting on Facebook, if and when I see my "friends" there. This morning we were able to chat with an important friend in Beersheva. Razelle and she had things to discuss, so with Razelle dictating and me typing, these two had a productive meeting while we dined.

I looked around the IHOP we were sitting in here in Birmingham and marveled at the mix of races eating and working around us, all comfortable and natural-like. From the sight of it, you'd hardly know that this wasn't always so in Alabama. I also marveled at the Southern-drawled turns of phrase we heard as they spoke to each other ("I do believe" etc.), which made this Alabama scene all the more authentic. Razelle and I had to pinch ourselves to realize that we were in this scene, too; we had come this far in our world travels. These people weren't actors in a Tennessee Williams play; they were themselves and we are interacting with them.

We returned to the highway after breakfast and traffic through Birmingham was flowing much better now. We drove to an exit south of Clanton, AL, where I stopped to top up the gas tank. A highway sign here pointed to the Confederate Memorial Park and Museum, at Marbury, AL. It was a spontaneous impulse on my part to see what this was about. Our itinerary had no attractions planned for our passage through Alabama, so this looked like something appropriate to where we were. The museum is dedicated to the memories of the sons of Alabama who defended their state and way of life during the War Between the States. It had been the Old Soldiers Home for Confederate Veterans until the last of these died decades ago. The park contains the graves of many of these old soldiers. Razelle was not happy that we'd stopped here. I was fascinated by the sensitive way this museum explained the Confederate point of view without glossing over the facts. It explained the mindset of the soldiers who took up arms for a cause that still has proponents to this day. (That's the part that Razelle was upset about.) I came away from this museum with a better understanding of the rift that almost sundered the Union, and why the Confederate States saw this as a justifiable enough cause to die (and kill) defending.

At Montgomery, AL we took US-231 to Dothan AL and drove on into Florida, our 27th state. Crossing the state line into Florida was another significant moment for me on this journey. I'd lived in Florida as a youngster and during geography classes in Orlando I had learned (and still retained) a great deal of information about this state's features. I may never have been to the Panhandle of Florida as a child, but I knew the names of its counties and rivers. It pleased me to explain all these features to Razelle. We stopped at the first rest area we came to on I-10. It was very warm and humid here and swarms of mated pairs of insects (called love bugs, I later learned) were all over the lawns and parking area. They seemed to be attracted to the open doors and windows of the van. I had to keep these closed. We found receptacles at this rest area to leave our recyclables. We had saved all our bottles and cans as we traveled and had a sizable collection by now. It was good to be rid of them. I shooed away the swarming "two-headed" insects as I stood at the receptacle sorting the bottles from the cans before dumping them.

Continuing east on I-10, we started seeing Spanish moss hanging from the trees for the first time. An occasional sprinkle of light rain helped rinse the barrage of bugs from our windshield. We crossed the Apalachicola River and a sign told us we were back in the Eastern Time Zone. This is the last time we will cross a time zone in this country. We are once again an hour closer to closing the circle of our round-the-world trip, this time for keeps. Further along, we crossed the Suwannee River. Yes, that famous "far, far away" river flows through Florida.

I tried to buy gas with my credit card at a gas station. The pump asked me to enter my zip code. That again? We haven't needed to do this since we were out on the West Coast of the US. I typed in my Israeli postal code (it's an Israel-issued credit card) but because this is the same as a zip code in Utah, the pump didn't consider it valid. It told me to see the clerk. Ordinarily, the clerk validates the card, but I drove off without bothering to see the clerk and without buying gas this time. I had enough to get to Gainesville and I didn't want to wait to be processed here.

We turned south on I-75 toward Gainesville. This is the same interstate highway that we had driven south on from Toledo to Dayton before our "detour" to Missouri. (It was worth it!) Now we were back on the original track. The closer we got to Orlando the stronger my awareness of the geography grew. Familiar place names stirred up such nostalgia in me. It rained again before we reached Gainesville; we arrived there well after dark. I called Joshua as we got closer to Gainsville and he explained how to find his house, but my GPS was so fool-proof I didn't think I'd need any instructions. This time I did. We could not find Joshua's place in the dark. I called and he directed us to his door, eventually standing outside and waving us in. His place is set back behind other homes and no one ever finds it using a GPS.

The night was sultry (this is our favorite line from the movie, "Throw Mamma From the Train"). The foliage was sopping wet. A vast puddle remained in the street from the cloudburst they'd experienced earlier before we had arrived. We went in with Joshua and got to know each other. I haven't visited with Joshua since he became an adult. Razelle last saw him when he was 2 years old. We spent the evening engrossed in wonderful intellectual conversations with Josh over a pizza we ordered by phone (he ordered it – our treat). Joshua screened a film for us called "This is Nowhere." It is a documentary filmed in 2002 about the Walmart RV culture. It was fascinating. We expected it to be all about the kind of traveling we have done on this road trip so far with our van. We could identify with many of the things we saw in the film. We had experienced Walmart in the same way. However, times have changed and, although we did see large luxury RVs at Walmart when we camped out there, we also saw vehicles at the other end of the spectrum. There were vans like ours, station wagons and even small cars that had over-nighters in them who perhaps couldn't afford to sleep anywhere else. Our experience nearly a decade later was not like the one portrayed in the film. They should film an updated version by now; times have changed. We could help write it for them.

We enjoyed Josh's company and stayed up until 1:00 AM visiting. But we all had to get to sleep, eventually. Josh offered to have us sleep on his futons, but Razelle has difficulty getting up off the floor once she's down there so we declined the offer. Razelle and I went out to the van to sleep. We did our best to get comfortable in the van. We slept fitfully in the still air and stifling humidity. I prayed for a breeze, but none came.

Illinois through Missouri, Arkansas, Tennessee and Mississippi to Alabama

September 18

We awoke in time for our free (meager) breakfast, and I noticed that no other guests had arrived after us, so we still were the only guests in Cairo. It was a Sunday morning – a weekend – yet Cairo remained no one's destination. Razelle swore we were in an unreal place because the same unmarked white boxy truck passed by on the interstate at regular intervals, as if we were in a movie loop. 

We returned to Cairo to discover a preserved but abandoned historic district. Beyond it were block after block of partially collapsed buildings facing sunken streets. It looked like the devastating aftermath of a war; I cannot adequately describe the sadness and disbelief we felt as we drove through this district. We reached a gap in the levee that protected Cairo to view the Ohio River beyond it. The main thoroughfare of Cairo seemed to have many churches but few businesses. Hard times had befallen this place and Razelle and I were absolutely stunned to see the magnitude of their tragic effect.

We drove to the point where the Ohio River and the Mississippi River merge. This was at the tip of Illinois, in Fort Defiance State Park. It was overgrown; dry mud partly covered the access road and narrowed it to a single lane; crumbling playground equipment stood abandoned in tall grass. I climbed to the top of an observation deck at the tip of this peninsula to gaze at the confluence of these rivers. 

I had been to the source of the Ohio River in Pittsburgh many years ago when I visited my cousin Lori there, now I have been to its end in Cairo. This is what I had come to see. A man was fishing at the exact point were their waters merged. Large vessels plied their waters. This post-card perfect vista belied the poverty and neglect that was behind me as I photographed it.

Returning to Razelle and the van, I met an elderly couple from Georgia; he was dependent upon his portable oxygen tank to breathe. They had come to collect driftwood (they found what they'd come for) on their way to Branson, MO. The US-60 bridge into MO was closed for repairs, so now a different route would be necessary. The man had been to Israel in 1967 and in 1973 (he joked that he was to blame for the wars that were fought those years). He had been a labor organizer and his visits to Israel were connected to the Histadrut (Israel labor union). It surprises me how many such non-Jews I have met during this journey who have been to Israel. This man had been to this park in the past and he lamented how rundown it looked now, compared to how lovely and well visited it had been previously.

Leaving Cairo to get to Memphis meant driving back to the motel once more to enter I-57 there, then crossing the Mississippi River once more to re-enter Missouri, and then driving south on I-55, beyond New Madrid, MO to enter Arkansas before crossing the Mississippi River one last time to arrive in Memphis. About New Madrid: this place's greatest distinction is the devastating mid-continent earthquakes that occurred here in the past. I understand that similar quakes are overdue and I am pleased that they held themselves in check until we passed by. Mark Twain also referred to this place in his writings. We saw signs guiding traffic to the Museum in New Madrid. I asked Razelle if she felt like stopping there, but she answered that she was not, so we drove on into Arkansas, our 23rd state.

In Blytheville, AR we went into a Verizon Wireless store to top-up my cell-phone account before it ran out. This was at a Walmart Superstore complex. We saw a recreational vehicle parked in the far corner of the vast lot here and conjectured that it had spent the night here because of where it had parked. We went into this Walmart and bought a few needed items and used the restrooms. I found it intriguing how much Spanish we heard spoken here. I wondered why this corner of Arkansas had so many Spanish speakers, and imagined it had to do with migrant agricultural workers settling here to live. We drove on and intermittent rain helped clear the bugs from our windshield. Razelle's cousin Jeanne, in southern Florida, called while we were driving through Arkansas. She had ambitious plans for us when we reached her part of the country. Razelle and I needed to discuss the logistics of these plans before we could promise Jeanne anything. Arkansas looked pretty much the same as the Bootheel of Missouri had looked, so we occupied ourselves with this discussion during this Arkansas segment of our journey until we reached the approaches to Memphis. The concrete slabs used to pave this section of I-55 had been warped by the elements to such an extent that we found ourselves bouncing over them with motion-sickness inducing oscillations. They led to an old truss bridge we had to trust was more durable than the pavement leading to it. On the far side of this bridge we entered Tennessee, our 24th state, on the south side of Memphis.

We entered Memphis here because I had programmed our GPS to take us past key landmarks. We entered a part of the historic downtown area where we could hear music coming from bars and from a pedestrian mall where an historic street had been closed to vehicular traffic. I sent Razelle into the Peabody Hotel to look for a restaurant David had told me about while I circled block, but there were no restaurant or eateries in there anymore. They'd moved out, Razelle was told; all she found inside the building were exclusive clothing stores and the hotel lobby.

Next we made our way to Graceland. It was farther out of town than I had expected. Today it is such a magnet for pilgrims that an entire tourism complex has grown up across the road from Elvis's mansion. 

The only access to the mansion is by tour bus, which costs an exorbitant amount to ride where I so easily could walk. I crossed the road on foot to the gates of the mansion and asked if I could simply walk to Elvis's grave to pay my respects, but I was told that I would have to pay for the tour bus first. Entrance on foot to the Graceland grounds is free, but only between 7:30 – 8:30 AM, after which you can only come in if you ride in on one of the buses. I imagine this arrangement became necessary to protect the grounds from being overwhelmed, rather than from profit motivation. I wasn't interested in taking the tour so I found Razelle at the restaurant she'd gone to while she waited for me to get Elvis out of my system. She had no taste for this place at all.

We drove a short distance further south and entered Mississippi, our 25th state. The highway was first rate. Although it was marked US-78, at intervals we saw signs stating that this highway would be I-22 in the near future. We drove past occasional stretches of construction (probably to bring this road up to interstate standards) and through intermittent rain. We crossed a bridge over the Tallahatchie River on the way to Tupelo, MS and I remembered a reference to a Tallahatchie Bridge and to Tupelo in a popular song from my youth entitled "Ode to Billy Joe." We couldn't remember who the woman was who sang it (I'll look it up later), but seeing these landmarks and recalling her voice reminded us how deep into the South we were now. 

We reached Tupelo during the last light of the day and drove directly to Elvis's birthplace. There is a small parking lot and a museum/gift shop here (closed at this hour) and no more than a few visitors. The tiny one-room home Elvis's father built here is nicely preserved and sits in a space tastefully surrounded by story boards displaying tributes from teachers and classmates who remembered him as a child. The church his family prayed in and where he sang as a youngster had been moved to the same piece of land. An outhouse (locked up) completed the setting. So, in one day we had visited the place where Elvis was born and where he had died (in reverse order). I found his birthplace and the environment of his formative years more meaningful than the place of his undoing and ultimate death. When we left Tupelo, that's when I had gotten Elvis out of my system. I'm glad we made this "pilgrimage" – although I didn't feel that it was – to his birthplace.

Before leaving Tupelo we went to a gas station to use their facilities. Razelle couldn't find any tuna sandwiches here – again! – so she made her own sandwiches in the van. A man with a small commercial truck (tender) bearing Alabama plates was taking off a wheel and putting it back on again. We chatted briefly about the problem he was trying to fix; then I saw the decal in his back window. It said, "Beware of Liberals posing as Americans." I couldn't help him.

We drove the last part of Mississippi in waning light and entered Alabama, our 26th state, after dark. I programmed our GPS to look for Walmarts along our route and the one it found in Jasper, AL was just the right distance ahead. We had our GPS take us there. Rather than park in a distant corner of its parking lot, we picked a parking spot that was more convenient for Razelle to go into the store whenever she needed to. This turned out to be a bad idea, (though this is how one learns) because the traffic that went in and out of that lot during the night kept disturbing us in that position. This included delivery trucks, employees and customers. We will know better the next time we "camp out" at a Walmart. 

During the night I went into this Walmart and saw a sales display of the same scarecrow people that Jan and Marvin's neighbors had used to decorate their home in Columbia, MO for Thanksgiving. The aggregate of their smiling cheerful faces stopped me in my tracks. Then, in this nearly empty and nearly silent store, so close to midnight, I heard the music that someone in charge of this display had thoughtfully added for effect: spooky classical organ music came from a speaker above them; it was JS Bach's Toccata and Fugue in D minor. I stood a long while, enthralled, listening to this touch of culture – here in a Walmart – here in Jasper, Alabama. The organ music played in a repeating loop. It touched me with all its resonance each time it played those striking chords. I returned to the van uplifted by having experienced this moment on my round-the-world trip. 

Missouri to Illinois

September 17

We had come back to Columbia the night before rather than stay in the Marceline area because it was important to us to be consistent about attending services every Saturday morning during this trip, whenever it was possible. Columbia has only one synagogue and it was practically around the corner from Marvin and Jan's home. Services begin there at 10:00 AM, so we had time to leisurely get our baggage arranged a little better, and still go out for breakfast before services began. However, the smell of pancakes coming from the kitchen disabused us of that idea. Marvin prepared a delicious stack of these and set some real maple syrup on the table to go with them. A relative of theirs makes this syrup. We were concerned about accepting the bottle he offered us as a gift because we didn't think we'd have an opportunity to make pancakes during the rest of our journey. We knew it would be confiscated at the airport if we tried to take it to Israel in our carry-on luggage, and we didn't want to have it get damaged in our heavy bags. Marvin was happy when we decided it would make a nice gift from him and Jan to Monte and Mindy when we ultimately reached Long Island at the end of our travels with the van. That date loomed closer now. When we thought about it, we realized we had fewer than 4 weeks left with this vehicle.

The time to go had come. We didn't want to be late for services. We waved our goodbyes to Jan and Marvin from within the van and, dressed in our Shabbat clothes, we set a course for the synagogue less than a mile away.

We parked our van in the parking lot behind Congregation Beth Shalom in Columbia, MO at 10:00 AM. It looked like no one else was there; either that or they'd all come on foot (not likely). Soon, another car pulled up; a recent transplant to Columbia from Nevada stepped out and we chatted in the parking lot. A third car pulled up and we already had half a minion guaranteed (if women are counted). This synagogue is associated with the reform movement, but because it is the only synagogue in Columbia, it alternates prayer books from week to week. This week's services were done using Orthodox prayer books. The rabbi was away this Shabbat; we were told he came from Israel, and that it was a shame our timing was off and we hadn't gotten to meet him; he sounded like someone special. People continued to steadily arrive until most of the chairs were filled. We were impressed by the wonderful mix of congregants that assembled there this morning: the man from Las Vegas, a woman from Kansas City (in fact there were more women then men, just like we often have back home), a new bar-mitzvah boy returning after his bar-mitzvah the week before with both his parents. The Torah was read very competently by a young man (college age, perhaps). The sermon was very nice, with questions that congregation members answered from their seats. In answer to one of the points in the sermon I referred to the world-wide community of Jews we'd visited during our travels. This was an ice breaker for us and welcoming smiles turned our way. No one had been assigned to read the Haftarah this morning, so Razelle volunteered me and they enthusiastically agreed. Oy Vey. I did it cold with only a quick look at it during the Torah reading. I did a decent job, though (surprised myself), even without the usual preparation. At this synagogue the congregants speak the names of the sick softly to themselves from their seats during the prayer for the sick. I whispered my mother and my sister's names, as always.

During the announcements after the service we thanked the congregants warmly for creating such an intimate and welcoming atmosphere for us this Shabbat. This small congregation was very special to us. They reminded us of the intimately small congregation we had prayed with in Honolulu, months ago. The Kiddush was a very modest one for the first time yet in our "tour" of American synagogues. I was intrigued to find a package of "Fig Newmans" on the table. They looked just like the "Fig Newtons" I used to eat too many of when I lived in the US years ago. I will want to look these up on the Internet some day. They didn't have the same addictive appeal, or else my taste for these has changed as I've matured.

After services we stopped for something Razelle wanted to buy at a novelty store; then we headed out of town with Cairo, IL our next intended destination. This involved doubling back from Columbia to St. Louis on the same roads we'd travelled before, but in the reverse order (I-70 to I-64). We detoured around St. Louis this time and didn't see anything more of it than the increased congestion that is typical of large cities. Keeping track of all the two- and three-digit interstate numbers around large cities can be challenging because so many bypass roads have numbers that look alike at a glance, which is sometimes all I could afford when traffic was heavy and moving fast. In places such as these, my GPS proved itself indispensible over and over again.

Interstate 55 followed the course of the Mississippi River from the Missouri side but never was close enough for us to actually sense this. Place names at the highway exits were familiar to me from having read Mark Twain's writings, but they passed without the places themselves coming into view. By the time we crossed the Mississippi River at Cape Girardeau, MO and into Illinois again, the sun was low, although with an overcast sky we could only sense this by the dimming level of sunlight. We saw the sun peak out from the cloud cover as it touched the horizon briefly before it disappeared for the day. We followed Illinois state route 3 much closer to the Mississippi River here, past a town call Thebes, on our way to Cairo (someone must have been enamored of things Egyptian when these places were named). The smell of river mud struck my nostrils and reminded me of the smell of the floodplains in the parks near my home in Toledo, OH, during the spring. This is a smell that has nostalgic associations for me, reminding me of the first green shoots that come up through the ooze to signal the end of winter there.

We arrived in Cairo, IL after dark, passing Mound City, Urbandale and Future City in the process. At one junction we passed a National Cemetery with great numbers of tombstones arrayed in perfect lines gleaming white in the dark. They were the tidiest thing we saw in these environs. The appearance of Cairo in the dark was very depressing. Everything looked so utterly run down, neglected or abandoned. We searched our GPS for a place to sleep. The first motel we came to, the Belvedere, seemed so run down and uninviting, with a car parked in its lot with a sheet of cardboard replacing a missing window, that we left Cairo entirely and went back to the interstate. The motel at the interstate was a Days Inn. We were the only guests there. Our clerk was from India and his English was hard to understand. We paid for our room and went inside. Cairo was one of those places on my bucket list I just had to see. Razelle kept asking me as we drove up and down its depressing streets why I had such a need to include this location on our itinerary. Seeing what it looked like tonight, I was forced to ask myself the same question.