Categories: excursions, family, fear, our history, thinking too much

Snagged a few PTO days for the end of next week.  Convinced the hubby that we can scoop up and walk away.  Drive to some remote town within a 3 hour radius and live there for a little while.  Somewhere with a pool or a seaside.  Somewhere with walls that don’t look like the ones we’ve been staring at for 17 months.   Somewhere we might be able to capture a little of the relaxation we’d hoped for in Mexico but somehow couldn’t grasp.

But as I look through the airbnbs and vrbos of the world to find that perfect weekend getaway, I can’t escape the question that rings out over and over – where will we be okay in these united states?  Where can we give our good green hard-earned money to stay for a few days where the township won’t look at us cockeyed or wish to do bad things to us?  Where can we go where the threat of bad service, bad attitudes or bad intentions might not sully the experience?  How can we ensure that the few days that we’ll steal away won’t be tarnished with the hatred and vitriol that had been stoked in recent years by American leadership?   Because all those nearby escapes are really all those places where people like that go to live to get away from us.

It’s why my vacations are usually spent in Caribbean nations.  At least I can lean back on the idea that I’m on an island or in a country where the majority of people look like me.


But that’s not a failsafe either.






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