I thought I share a few pics here, for additional pics be sure to check my Facebook album here. I didn't ride Kimmie over since Sue was with me, but it was still a good time and I tried Stone Crab for the first time (I was not impressed).
Showing posts with label festivals. Show all posts
Showing posts with label festivals. Show all posts
Sunday, October 25, 2015
Clearwater Beach Chalk Festival.
Sue and I got some good news last week and we managed to get over to Clearwater Beach where they were holding the last day of their Chalk Festival.
I thought I share a few pics here, for additional pics be sure to check my Facebook album here. I didn't ride Kimmie over since Sue was with me, but it was still a good time and I tried Stone Crab for the first time (I was not impressed).
I thought I share a few pics here, for additional pics be sure to check my Facebook album here. I didn't ride Kimmie over since Sue was with me, but it was still a good time and I tried Stone Crab for the first time (I was not impressed).
Saturday, August 1, 2015
Exploring Brooksville - a pretty place with a racist history
It's your typical Summer weather pattern here in Florida, the rain was moving in off the Gulf coast and again I had to decide if riding was worth it. The TV news blabbing about a 60 to 70% chance of rain. Weather.com broke that chance down even further for me. I could stay dry if I moved my ass and had a little luck. If I was going to do this today, it would not be on Kimmie sadly.
My destination was Brooksville, Fl which lies about an hour north of me in Hernando county. The roads in the area are twisty, the county is mostly rural which makes it one of the more popular destinations for riders in the area. It has an annual Blueberry Festival in April that celebrates the area's agricultural roots. I also learned that is also the geographical center of Florida although I could not find the exact spot anywhere on the map.
It's a pretty city with roots dating back nearly 150 years. It also has a violent racist history which sickened and interested me at the same time. Brooksville was named in 1856 after Preston Brooks, a South Carolina Congressman whose claim to fame in the history books is that he beat a anti - slavery congressman with a cane on the Senate floor. An act that may have indirectly lead to the Civil War.
It also has a history of lynchings, of intolerance and trials.
So here I am, riding a hour or so north to visit the courthouse. To learn about how a deadly feud could erupt over interracial marriage (at a time when such things were simply not done), how the courthouse could "mysteriously" catch fire and destroy the evidence of the lynching that followed the death of a black Minister and former county commissioner. How, for a brief time this county was lawless and filled with vigilantes called "regulators."
How a county of only 4,000 people at that time would have over 40 murders, many of which are still considered unsolved. Many of the murders were related to race, but also included the death of a sheriff and two judges. One of the area's sheriff's, W. D. Cobb, was even accused of killing two white men, one of whom was involved in a crime that Cobb supposedly took part in. How and why this happened interested me although I still don't have an answer.
Two hotels were burned down during this period and house fires were common. Even after justice was restored, Hernando county had the highest incidence of lynchings between 1900 and 1930, possibly second only to the entire state of Mississippi. However those numbers are hard to come across, and frankly I'm not sure I want to.
Brooksville still has racial tensions, brought to the surface recently by the Confederate flag controversy but also by the vandalization of a historic black cemetery, which according to local legend and myth; you can still see the body of a lynched man at night. Or sometimes hear the screams of a baby. Entering town there was a business proudly displaying Confederate items. History they say, repeats itself.
How this town could have so many Confederate moments yet not one that even mentioned Brooksville African American community? If they did, then I was unaware of it. History moves on and in this pretty town it's hard to believe such things happened in the time of our great grandparents. We have come so far in such a brief time, but at the same time we have so much further to go. So here I am, looking for historic sites and information on this dark period of history. Then I'm reminded that I'm living in a dark time, as a Confederate flag burning was recently attempted in Brooksville. It did not turn ugly but had the potential to, the pro flag side outnumbered the anti flag side and cooler heads prevailed.
Living in Florida it is easy to forgot that despite all the sunlight and natural beauty, that darkness still lurks. That ugly things still hide in the shadows.
In a way I wish the weather would have held off for me a little while longer. The groundskeeper at the May - Stringer house was telling me about his ghost sightings. I was hoping to visit the rail station and one room school. The African - American cemetery was on my list. It was to wet, to nasty...I was lucky to get the time I did to look about. Frankly though...I'm not sure I go back. You can't go in reverse, only forward.
My destination was Brooksville, Fl which lies about an hour north of me in Hernando county. The roads in the area are twisty, the county is mostly rural which makes it one of the more popular destinations for riders in the area. It has an annual Blueberry Festival in April that celebrates the area's agricultural roots. I also learned that is also the geographical center of Florida although I could not find the exact spot anywhere on the map.
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| Confederate statue outside the courthouse. |
It's a pretty city with roots dating back nearly 150 years. It also has a violent racist history which sickened and interested me at the same time. Brooksville was named in 1856 after Preston Brooks, a South Carolina Congressman whose claim to fame in the history books is that he beat a anti - slavery congressman with a cane on the Senate floor. An act that may have indirectly lead to the Civil War.
It also has a history of lynchings, of intolerance and trials.
So here I am, riding a hour or so north to visit the courthouse. To learn about how a deadly feud could erupt over interracial marriage (at a time when such things were simply not done), how the courthouse could "mysteriously" catch fire and destroy the evidence of the lynching that followed the death of a black Minister and former county commissioner. How, for a brief time this county was lawless and filled with vigilantes called "regulators."
 |
| One of the old oaks dating back a few hundred years. |
How a county of only 4,000 people at that time would have over 40 murders, many of which are still considered unsolved. Many of the murders were related to race, but also included the death of a sheriff and two judges. One of the area's sheriff's, W. D. Cobb, was even accused of killing two white men, one of whom was involved in a crime that Cobb supposedly took part in. How and why this happened interested me although I still don't have an answer.
Two hotels were burned down during this period and house fires were common. Even after justice was restored, Hernando county had the highest incidence of lynchings between 1900 and 1930, possibly second only to the entire state of Mississippi. However those numbers are hard to come across, and frankly I'm not sure I want to.
Brooksville still has racial tensions, brought to the surface recently by the Confederate flag controversy but also by the vandalization of a historic black cemetery, which according to local legend and myth; you can still see the body of a lynched man at night. Or sometimes hear the screams of a baby. Entering town there was a business proudly displaying Confederate items. History they say, repeats itself.
 |
| May - Stringer House |
How this town could have so many Confederate moments yet not one that even mentioned Brooksville African American community? If they did, then I was unaware of it. History moves on and in this pretty town it's hard to believe such things happened in the time of our great grandparents. We have come so far in such a brief time, but at the same time we have so much further to go. So here I am, looking for historic sites and information on this dark period of history. Then I'm reminded that I'm living in a dark time, as a Confederate flag burning was recently attempted in Brooksville. It did not turn ugly but had the potential to, the pro flag side outnumbered the anti flag side and cooler heads prevailed.
Living in Florida it is easy to forgot that despite all the sunlight and natural beauty, that darkness still lurks. That ugly things still hide in the shadows.
In a way I wish the weather would have held off for me a little while longer. The groundskeeper at the May - Stringer house was telling me about his ghost sightings. I was hoping to visit the rail station and one room school. The African - American cemetery was on my list. It was to wet, to nasty...I was lucky to get the time I did to look about. Frankly though...I'm not sure I go back. You can't go in reverse, only forward.
Sunday, November 2, 2014
Community.
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| They were a little confused on the concept |
Partially because of the time of year. It's wonderful to see little kids dressed up and being super hero's, monsters, princess and fairies. Partially because I realize that even though I grew up in the suburbs and lived in city confines most of my adult life, I've become accustomed to rural living.
I like the quiet. The community where I live is gated but very active with the local schools and charities. I like being out and about in the area. I like riding in the cool evening weather.
Finally, last night I was reading the newly revised Riding the Wet Coast blog and it's various tributes that other bloggers wrote to the late Bob Leong. I never met the man but feel proud to have been included in his little blogging family. I feel proud to be part of this community.
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| How you got goods across a pond in the old days |
Saturday I had the opportunity to ride with the Plant City/Lakeland crew I rode with once before and want to one day ride with again. I felt welcome by them. However the lovely Susan and I had already made plans and we had a bit of running around to do afterward (for example, I have new riding boots). We attended the Antioch Pioneer Day events. Antioch is literally a one stoplight town, and it's a blinking light. The whole event was held on the grounds of the Baptist Church.
In a way it was a step back into time. I was reminded of old TV shows like the Walton's and Little House on the Prairie. Mostly because a few of the Church volunteers were dressed like character's out of that time period. At one time the Church was the center of the community and events like this were a chance to socialize, A chance to steal that first kiss from that special boy or girl, or smoke your first cigarette. Oh to live on Sugar Mountain.
All the events were geared to a simpler time. You could chase a pig about and win a free ice cream cone if you caught one, fish with your kids, ride in a covered wagon. Everything was free expect the food and that was very reasonable.
Honestly though the event was not for us. We have no young children or are we church going people. Although I was tempted to chase a pig, we decided to head on out.
After that, it was off to run errands and with no place to be or demanding time schedule we took our time wandering about and took in a few yard sales. We ventured off to Camping World and discussed what were we would like to be in five, ten, twenty years. Let's just say were saving up for a big tour bus.
A ride back into Zephyrhills found us at the local park for a surprising visit to an unknown event where we listened to some country music and wandered along merchants.
For the second weekend in a row I stayed off the bike and you know what...I was happy to have not ridden in four days. Sometimes you just need to be off the road for a bit.
One final thing, get out and vote on Tuesday!
One final thing, get out and vote on Tuesday!
Saturday, October 25, 2014
Festivities of the Orange Kind
Not everything works out as planned.
We walked hand in hand taking in the crowd, the event was geared to the little ones to some extent as petting zoo's and jumping frog competitions were part of the day's events. Two girls, maybe 5 and 6, tried their hands at frog wrangling to the amusement of the crowd, the and horror of their mother.
We got to see the air cannon fire a pumpkin into a strand of trees some 300 plus yards away. There were some monster trucks, a hay ride, corn maze. All the normal stuff that you would expect, but a zip line? No, that we didn't expect.
There were a few shows and demonstrations as well. Dirt bikes going off of jumps (missed that show) and a Monster truck flattening some old car (missed that too), but we did see the "Wall of Death" where, in addition to motorcycles, they used an old go-kart and a pedal bicycle.
Overall it was a good day, and sometimes you need to do something different to get out of the rut. I think I was in a rut, so getting out helped.
I was originally planning on riding Saturday, hopefully with a group heading somewhere but by Friday afternoon I sort of gave up on that idea. I was feeling guilty. Guilty because there was work that needed to be done, I had yard work to do that I kept putting off because of the summer heat and humidity. Now that the heat and humidity are gone, there is no excuses. Today, for example, was a pleasant 84 F (28.9 C)...still warm but without the humidity it is a pleasure to work in.
My mom and dad asked me to clean the gutters of their winter home...I still needed to do that.
Truth be told, well I enjoy riding and exploring other parts of the local world, I really didn't feel like crossing the Howard Franklin bridge into St Petersburg to meet a group of strangers to ride back into Tampa and spend all day exploring the parks of my adopted city. Or I could meet the other group and ride out to Lake Wales on various back roads and spend all day in the saddle.
Both options appealed to me but frankly I was not looking forward to either like I originally thought I would. .
So when the lovely Sue mentioned the Hunsadar Farms Pumpkin Festival was having their final weekend to me this Saturday, it just seemed right. Plus they had an air cannon you could shoot a pumpkin out of. An AIR CANNON! Okay, the geek was me was excited. Maybe they let me fire it...just once PLEASE! PRETTY PLEASE!
So Sue and I jumped into our "Great Pumpkin" and hit the road. Hunsadar Farms is about 75 minutes south of us in Brandenton, Florida. The Pumpkin Festival was a combination of things, merchants, musicians, a petting zoo, food stalls, entertainment and Americana.
It's not that far from the Rosa Fiorelli vineyards, which just happen to be my favorite local wine maker, so you know we had to stop there too! Trust me, follow the link and order a bottle or three, it's worth it.
It's not that far from the Rosa Fiorelli vineyards, which just happen to be my favorite local wine maker, so you know we had to stop there too! Trust me, follow the link and order a bottle or three, it's worth it.
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| Scarecrows provided a distraction |
We got to see the air cannon fire a pumpkin into a strand of trees some 300 plus yards away. There were some monster trucks, a hay ride, corn maze. All the normal stuff that you would expect, but a zip line? No, that we didn't expect.
There were a few shows and demonstrations as well. Dirt bikes going off of jumps (missed that show) and a Monster truck flattening some old car (missed that too), but we did see the "Wall of Death" where, in addition to motorcycles, they used an old go-kart and a pedal bicycle.
Overall it was a good day, and sometimes you need to do something different to get out of the rut. I think I was in a rut, so getting out helped.
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| Well the bank is safe, I think |
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| Sheriff didn't look that tough however. |
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| Other scarecrows provided useful info. |
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| A really old fashioned Merry-Go-Round |
Sunday, March 9, 2014
Running from the bulls
On Saturday, in a city that is nothing like the fabled streets of Pamplona the bulls ran, chasing young men and woman out for a thrill though streets and over barricades. I only wish that I could have been one of them, but with a bum leg and ankle and about 15 pounds of extra flesh...I would be but easy pickings for a bull.
Still though one wonders what goes through the mind as you stand there, and around the corner turns a 700 plus pound animal and you realize that you are in it's way...and that it has no reason to stop.
I could not participate and sadly was fated only to watch, to live vicariously though those that can run from nature. Oh how I yearned to be a part of this event. To hear the hooves, to laugh a nervous laughter and to run...run...run down the quarter mile track. The event would be over shortly after it started, and bragging rights would be established over cold beers.
I'm not sure why I wanted to do this, and if I was not under direct orders not to, I would have done this. I think of Hemingway and the other writers that have influenced me in ways subtle and not so subtle. Jack of course, Hunter S Thompson and George Plimpton. Writers that loved the exploration of life. I suppose my riding a bike is an extension of that need.
Still though one wonders what goes through the mind as you stand there, and around the corner turns a 700 plus pound animal and you realize that you are in it's way...and that it has no reason to stop.
I could not participate and sadly was fated only to watch, to live vicariously though those that can run from nature. Oh how I yearned to be a part of this event. To hear the hooves, to laugh a nervous laughter and to run...run...run down the quarter mile track. The event would be over shortly after it started, and bragging rights would be established over cold beers.
I'm not sure why I wanted to do this, and if I was not under direct orders not to, I would have done this. I think of Hemingway and the other writers that have influenced me in ways subtle and not so subtle. Jack of course, Hunter S Thompson and George Plimpton. Writers that loved the exploration of life. I suppose my riding a bike is an extension of that need.
The Great Bull Run and Tomato Royal (a food fight based on La Tomatina) maybe as close as I'll ever get to running with the bulls. You can see actual video from both events here. Sadly do to other commitments I could not attend either event...even though I informed everyone that I was going to attend the Bull Run for days in advance.
At one time in my life I would have gone, I would have run with the bulls...injury's and commitments and common sense be damned! Not anymore.
Still though, I can't help what happened to the immortal I once was. Who thought nothing of chasing black haired and smokey blue eyed girls though the night, of traveling half way around the world alone to see what was there. The guy that never thought about having to many cigarettes and cold beers. There were many short skirts and seductive smiles and late nights in jazz clubs where whiskey and poetry flowed.
I'm not a young man anymore. I'm not that guy anymore.
The lovely Susan often says that I got a motorcycle because of a mid-life crisis. Sometimes I think she may be right. I own my own business, have a home that is paid in full, a car that isn't, Kimmie (which I paid cash for), two cats...two ex wives, a 401K and medical plans....a thyroid pill to take in the morning. I've done okay for myself...but still...it never is enough is it?
Still though I think about the thousands of miles I have placed on her and I realize that no...it's not a mid-life crisis. Its me being who I am and I'm not that same young man anymore.
So the bull run went on without me. I'm still interested in grabbing the bull by the horns. Of exploring this world and learning what I can from everyone and everything. Yet...yet, I don't know if I want to ride again.
This past month has been hard on me. I've grown used to riding in my car back and forth to work. I can listen to my NPR and not have to examine the weather report like some sacrificial lamb. Over the past several weeks I've been asking myself "is it worth it?"
Honestly the jury is still out.
At one time in my life I would have gone, I would have run with the bulls...injury's and commitments and common sense be damned! Not anymore.
Still though, I can't help what happened to the immortal I once was. Who thought nothing of chasing black haired and smokey blue eyed girls though the night, of traveling half way around the world alone to see what was there. The guy that never thought about having to many cigarettes and cold beers. There were many short skirts and seductive smiles and late nights in jazz clubs where whiskey and poetry flowed.
I'm not a young man anymore. I'm not that guy anymore.
Still though I think about the thousands of miles I have placed on her and I realize that no...it's not a mid-life crisis. Its me being who I am and I'm not that same young man anymore.
So the bull run went on without me. I'm still interested in grabbing the bull by the horns. Of exploring this world and learning what I can from everyone and everything. Yet...yet, I don't know if I want to ride again.
This past month has been hard on me. I've grown used to riding in my car back and forth to work. I can listen to my NPR and not have to examine the weather report like some sacrificial lamb. Over the past several weeks I've been asking myself "is it worth it?"
Honestly the jury is still out.
Monday, October 21, 2013
Americana
In my life I've had the opportunity to travel to the Bahama's, Canada, Honduras, Kazakhstan, Mexico, The Netherlands, Russia and several states here in the USA. Each place has it's own distant people, customs and heartbeat. Each place is unique, wonderful, scary and beautiful.
Each place is magical. In the end though....I love my home country. It's got issues, warts and problems...but it is still home. I've been thinking a bit lately about travel. Partially because of a possible new position at work that would require me to travel (assuming I get it) around Florida. Part of it being the anniversary of Jack Kerouac's death (one of my favorite writers).
Partially because of some the the blogs I read and their adventures. How you can give up nearly everything to discover that you have all you need (Road Pickle). About traveling down the Eastern Coast of the the US (Which is what Motorcycle Addiction did this summer), or across the US and Canada (Riding the Wet Coast). The insanity that will be the 2014 Scooter Cannonball.
Do to circumstances I was not able to attend the AIM Expo like I had hoped. So plan B was engaged which was a little jaunt over to the San Antonio Rattlesnake festival. I don't know what it is about these small town festivals. They all share some of the same things...face painting, usually bad and overpriced food and drinks, craft shows. Low mileage and heavily chromed out Harley's taken out for show. Pony rides and petting zoo's. Beyond that however is the stuff that really matters; kids running about playing and smiling faces, the unexpected find in a merchants' booth that you know your someone special would love. That "insert your favorite food that you know is not good for you here" that makes you feel like a kid again.
This is why I travel. To experience that joy. To have that connection and maybe see something I've not seen before, or something I need to see in a new light.
To have that wonderful human experience. Sometimes it's easy to forget that I live in paradise. It's to easy to be caught up in the day to day grind and we tend to forget that the world is full of endless wonder. I know, I sound like a new age hippy.
I have a deep and profound respect for life, history and the natural world. I want to share that love with others which is why I write.
So I thought I would share a few things with you gentle reader from the most recent adventure. Funny thing, for a rattlesnake festival I didn't see one snake!
I liked this little road sign we found at a mutlt-family barn sale. Some amazing old furniture, auto's and various odds and ends. It was also at the end of a neat little twisty road that demanded further attention at a later date.
I'm not sure of the make or year on this but loved the look of the machine. I sometimes wonder if the cars and trucks today will be looked at as works of art in 30,40, 50 years.
Each place is magical. In the end though....I love my home country. It's got issues, warts and problems...but it is still home. I've been thinking a bit lately about travel. Partially because of a possible new position at work that would require me to travel (assuming I get it) around Florida. Part of it being the anniversary of Jack Kerouac's death (one of my favorite writers).
Partially because of some the the blogs I read and their adventures. How you can give up nearly everything to discover that you have all you need (Road Pickle). About traveling down the Eastern Coast of the the US (Which is what Motorcycle Addiction did this summer), or across the US and Canada (Riding the Wet Coast). The insanity that will be the 2014 Scooter Cannonball.
Do to circumstances I was not able to attend the AIM Expo like I had hoped. So plan B was engaged which was a little jaunt over to the San Antonio Rattlesnake festival. I don't know what it is about these small town festivals. They all share some of the same things...face painting, usually bad and overpriced food and drinks, craft shows. Low mileage and heavily chromed out Harley's taken out for show. Pony rides and petting zoo's. Beyond that however is the stuff that really matters; kids running about playing and smiling faces, the unexpected find in a merchants' booth that you know your someone special would love. That "insert your favorite food that you know is not good for you here" that makes you feel like a kid again. This is why I travel. To experience that joy. To have that connection and maybe see something I've not seen before, or something I need to see in a new light.
I have a deep and profound respect for life, history and the natural world. I want to share that love with others which is why I write.
So I thought I would share a few things with you gentle reader from the most recent adventure. Funny thing, for a rattlesnake festival I didn't see one snake!
Kids lining up for the "Gopher Turtle" races. The turtles were actually wood and your pulled on the strings to get them to move forward.
A closer look at the "Turtle" The head moved side to side and each kid got some sort of prize even if the turtle didn't finish the race. I am glad I did not try the turtle soup they had for sale.
Finally a old band from Pittsburgh known as the Gathering Field. Back about 20 years ago they had a minor hit nationally with this song. I understand they have reformed and are starting to tour again. I just think it suits my mood right now.
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