As I write this post we are in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina.  Myrtle Beach, not Asheville, North Carolina which is where we’re supposed to be, where it’s about 36 degrees and where the rain has been falling in torrential buckets for the better part of the day.  We spent over two hours this morning in a nearby coffee house nursing cups of hot steamy goodness while watching the downpour.  Now back in our hotel room, we are basically here in Myrtle Beach to wait out the storm.

One of my most favorite things to see when we travel across the vast prairies of this country is the mile-long freight trains that often run alongside the highway. I start out trying to count the number of cars but soon give up because I simply can’t keep up.  But if I’m really lucky I’ll hear that long drone – somewhat lonely – call of a train whistle.  There’s just something about it that tugs at my soul; almost makes me want to bum a ride in an empty freight car headed for parts unknown.  Almost.

There’s nothing like a good old-fashioned small town 4th of July parade to remind one of the grand ‘ole flag.

We traveled across the USA this past December and January. There were several places and stories, such as the Battle of Franklin, that really stood out. The stories have stayed with me sitting on a little brain shelf waiting to be dusted off and told.  Some stories are easy.  Some, not so much. I want to do the characters justice by finding just the right niche, the not so common side of things.

Imagine living to be 99-years-old and living your entire life in the same place, never going beyond what you know.  This is the story of Alfred – Alfred Jackson – an enslaved man who spent the better part of his life in servitude to President Andrew Jackson.

When we travel, and when we walk in the paths of those who came before us, I have a tendency to fixate on a singular person of interest.  I want more than the surface story, I want the details, the behind the scenes story. I’ll read everything I can find on the person, i.e. Johnny Cash, until I exhaust the resources.  And, if I’m lucky enough to find videos on YouTube, I’ll watch as many as I possibly can.

“Man, that record came out and was real big in Memphis.

They started playing it, and it got real big.

Don’t know why-the lyrics had no meaning.”

Elvis Presley

At this time next month we will be back in Washington, D.C. and I am filled with eager anticipation.  I cannot make the days go fast enough.

Do you stay in B&B’s when you travel?  That’s probably one of the most frequently asked questions from our guests.  We always smile, look at each other with a secret little gleam in our eyes, and answer, “No, we don’t.”  And, of course, the next question is, why not?

“One day I heard someone talking about ‘sifting sand’. I liked the sound of those words and scribble in my notebook ‘old man sifts sand’ tells stories…’ and forgot about it.

Then one day I was on a beach, watching the sand trickle through my fingers and thought, what if every grain held a story. And what if someone were able to tell those stories by sifting the sand?”  –   Wikiquote