We arrived in Navarre, Florida Tuesday morning, where temperatures rose to 65, and I walked on the sand, with small wavelets from the bay nearby. Twice. There are small palm trees. And Andre's wonderful old friends. I met them for the first time last night—dinner at their place. Adding to the surreal atmosphere of travel displacement including acreage of parked motorhomes and folks near our age walking their dogs among them, is the morning news on CNN of the Haiti earthquake. There are no words for that.

Today is about a few errands and resting, then dinner again with our friends. She mentioned making apple pie. And a vacation-caught fish which I don't recognize. As far as these things go, I am in an eagerly accepting mode.



As we drove from LaGrange, Georgia to Owassa, Alabama—and beyond, perhaps—we passed over these named bodies of water. I felt I owe it to you and to the deciders of Georgia and Alabama, to name them. With great heartfelt gratitude.

Ossipippa River

Chattahoochie River

Milly Creek

Sepulga River

Blackwater River

Amen.