Untold Story #19: Unconditional Surrender

While we were in Sarasota, I hopped out of the minivan to photograph J. Seward Johnson's Unconditional Surrender sculpture. I had read that some Sarasota locals disapprove of it, thinking it kitschy, but of course, I love kitschy, also J. Seward Johnson's The Awakening sculpture at National Harbor.

The words on the sign:

The profound joy portrayed in this sculpture was prompted by the spontaneous surrender of the Japanese, thus ending World War II on August 14, 1945. Among the celebrants in Times Square in New York City were a United States sailor and a nurse embracing amidst the multitude of joy makers.

The merriment expressed the pride and relief of the military and the home front to have been part of this great victory despite the eleven years of unemployment and the hardships of the Great Depression; four years of horrific war; losing loved ones; the rationing of food and gasoline and the war production duties endured by the home front. This group is called the "Greatest Generation," which is a title they well deserve.

This celebrated moment in the history of our nation prompted preeminent American sculptor J. Seward Johnson to create this sculpture, which he named "Unconditional Surrender." After several years of intensive efforts, a proud veteran of World War II, Jack Curran, bought the sculpture, and with the outstanding support given by various Sarasota County veterans associations, he was able to donate the statue to the City of Sarasota.

The presence of this sculpture prompts viewers to never forget the "Greatest Generation" or the day when they demonstrated their "Unity"--August 14. 1945.

Of course, there's more than one side to every story. I photographed the sculpture in June, and in September, Greta Zimmer Friedman--the woman portrayed in Johnson's sculpture (and initially captured in photographs)--died. She'd been twenty-one in 1945. She'd been wearing a nurse's uniform but had been working as a dental assistant. When the news of Japanese surrender was announced, George Mendonsa--a sailor and stranger to Friedman--had grabbed and kissed her. Mendonsa's girlfriend (an actual nurse) had looked on and smiled (source).

In an interview for the Library of Congress, Friedman said to Patricia Redmond: “It wasn't my choice to be kissed. The guy just came over and grabbed!” (source). Friedman's son said his mother had understood why some perceive this to be an account of public assault, but that she hadn't necessarily seen it that way (source). Of course, times were different, then: impetuous celebration more commonplace (source). 

It's been thought-provoking to revisit my photos of this sculpture, these last couple days...to consider it in light of Donald Trump's words from eleven years ago. I don't mean to beat a dead horse, but--whether or not Michelle Obama was sincere when she said she hasn't been able to stop thinking about them--I am sincere when I say it.

I spoke with a friend over the weekend, a woman a little older than I, who talked nonchalantly about having been groped herself...and about her plans to vote for Trump regardless of what he said (or, in my opinion, confessed to have done). She's not the only woman in my life who intends to vote for Trump, next month. Their decision is baffling to me; yet, even as I write this, I feel convicted because I know I'd disregarded many of Trump's ugly words before they triggered me, personally.

Is that what it all comes down to? Are words only offensive if one is offended by them? Is assault only assault if one is outraged or traumatized by it? I've had similar thoughts, before, as related to abortion; it seems like the value (or type of value) placed upon a fetus/baby lies only in a person's perception of it. (Read my thoughts on abortion, here.) All of it is confusing to me. Is there a line? Is there a standard?

I want to believe yes...and Jesus. The trouble is: not everyone believes in Jesus. We have freedom of and from religion here. Isn't that part of what's supposed to make America great? And not everyone who believes in Jesus believes the same things of Him. Since I've announced my intention to vote for Gary Johnson, I've been shamed by Republicans, Democrats, friends, brothers and sisters in Christ.

Where is the fair intersection between religion and politics? I've puzzled over this before, and I'm still puzzling. I'm still here, my heart feeling heavy as a rock inside my chest. What does it mean to be a true patriot? All I know is: if it comes down to thinking and praying and caring (obsessing), I've arrived.

The Girls at J. Seward Johnson's The Awakening, 2015

Untold Story #13: South of the Border...& Pedro

I need to acknowledge from the outset: I don't know that it's possible for me to visit or write about South of the Border and remain politically correct. This place is crazy. If you've ever driven from one Carolina into the other on I-95, you've seen it. There's no missing it; there are 350 acres of it, and the welcome sign (of mascot Pedro) is over one hundred feet tall.

I'm pretty sure that--if my daughters' Pocahontas costumes are inappropriate and offensive to some people--the South of the Border theme is, too, so let me just say: I've never meant disrespect to Native Americans or Mexicans. I had a boyfriend named Pedro, once. He's in heaven, now, but I wonder what he would've said about South of the Border. He was a very fun-loving person, so I think he would've been forgiving, if not downright amused.

I love statues, especially of the campy variety (I mean, just give me a giant King Kong!), and South of the Border has tons. I was pretty overstimulated. I wanted to photograph the kids with every single one, including Pedro the welcome sign.

But I didn't, because 1) the big kids didn't seem amused; 2) it was the hot center of the day; and 3) the place is a little run-down. I had the sense of being on an abandoned movie set. I'm sure that, back in its hay day (the 60's), it was quite the place to be, but these days, the amusement-park portion is closed. The day we visited, it seemed like maybe a lot of other things were closed, too. I wouldn't have been surprised to see tumbleweed.

Several people approached the minivan to ask for money, and again, there's probably no way for me to write about that experience with the appropriate level of sensitivity, but I felt very uncomfortable, especially when I was standing outside the van, getting something from the trunk. I'm not used to that sort of thing. I had five children in my care.

So I took very few photos but drove through the compound several times. I would've driven through several more if not for the protests of my young charges, the end.

Untold Story #12: Vollis Simpson's Whirligigs

I taught nights, this past summer, and had only one week completely off. I decided I wanted to drive down to St. Petersburg, Florida, where my friend Erin lives, taking my four kids and Cade's friend Sam with me.

As soon as it started to look like it was going to work out, I began planning. I can't tell you how many hours I spent planning this trip, but many. I wanted to find the coolest things between here and there; I wanted the trip to be fun for everyone; and I wanted low-cost adventures.

Our first stop was Wilson, North Carolina, where for a little less than thirty years (from retirement until death), a man named Vollis Simpson made outsider art from metal scraps. The city is in the process of moving all the art from the Simpson farm, restoring it, and building a park in which to display it.

The children and I started at the Wilson Visitor Center. A kind woman called ahead of us to the warehouse where much of the Simpson art is currently housed. Mel was ready for us when we arrived.

After leaving Mel and the warehouse, we drove to the site of the Vollis Simpson Whirligig Park. Wilson has big plans for these two acres, and I hope to return after the project has been completed. It's a high-dollar endeavor, but the cost of our tours? Not a thing, and if you know me at all, you know outsider art is very much up my alley.

Untold Story #5: Backyard Terrors

Not too long ago, I learned about a dinosaur park in Bluff City, Tennesse called Backyard Terrors. We camped in the area with my parents over Labor Day but didn't make it to Backyard Terrors, so I decided the little kids and I would check it out while heading south to my parents' house. I hadn't seen my high-school friend Matthew for something like seven years, and he lives near Backyard Terrors, so I asked him to meet us.

The experience was wonderful in every way. I slipped some money into a donation box, but there were no required, admission fees. The park is surprisingly big; we spent hours! Chris Kastner's dinosaurs are realistic and different from the concrete and fiberglass creations we've seen in the past; these are made from vinyl over wood and wire frames (source). The wooded setting is perfect. There are educational signs and even a little archaeology exhibit for kids. Much to Clementine's delight, there were free-roaming cats. Much to Chip's delight, there was a slide.

I enjoyed being with Matthew. We carried the party over to dinner, where his girlfriend Julie joined us. It was fun to watch the kids interact with them and especially fun to watch Charleigh with Matthew. I saw a side of her I'd never really seen before; she dialed instantaneously into who he is and subsequently fell in love with him in about five minutes. She gave him a hard time in much the same way I did when we were in school. He ate it up, of course. Little Brandee.

I blogged, once, about the time Matthew and I almost died together (<Click to read about it.), but I've otherwise been mostly remiss in blogging about him. I'll tell you more of our story, next.

Photo Credit: The Wild Orange

Photo Credits : (L) Random Photo Booth, (R) Matthew Byrd

Little Kids' Vacation 2014, Pt. 8

So. Dutch Wonderland in Lancaster. It doesn't hold a candle to Storybook Land, in my opinion. It's not as well maintained and includes many elements that are 1980's, like, spaceship old (i.e., not quite old enough to be cute). It does have some vintage offerings of a Dutch flavor, but fairy-tale offerings are slim pickin's. I was disappointed to learn that the giant shoe slide was decommissioned just last year.

Walk through and push a button to watch little people inside make candy.

Clockwise from Top L: Little Red School House, Wally the Whale ('63-''67), Old 99 ('74-'02), Swan Boat ('67-'75).

Dutch Wonderland's newest addition: animatronic dinosaurs. I wasn't really into them, or at least, I don't understand why the park didn't use that money to improve its rides and shows.

Having said all that, Dutch Wonderland was the little kids' favorite. Duke's Lagoon beats Storybook Land's splash park by far, and Dutch Wonderland has more than double the rides of Storybook Land.

Chip discovered a PlasmaCar: loved it! 

And Dutch Wonderland has roving and performing characters. The girls didn't so much notice that the non-dive shows left something to be desired...because Princess Brooke! In a pink gown!

I did appreciate The Adventures of the Frog Prince (the high-dive show we watched) very much. The girls sat in the splash zone, but Jim, Chip, my camera, and I sat above all that madness. I had a hard time getting photos from where we sat (We were under cover of some sort!), but I'm still marveling that no one broke his or her neck diving into that pool. You can watch a video of the frog divers, here, with the highest dive point at 0:22 or so. (I don't think anyone dives from the highest dive point in the video, but at least you can appreciate how very high the highest dive point is!)

Frog Prince Postcard We Bought at Dutch Wonderland

Again, I wouldn't personally choose Dutch Wonderland over Storybook Land, especially given the higher cost of Dutch Wonderland. Still, it's charming in its own way, and we enjoyed our time there. We saved a little bit of money by purchasing 7-Day Advance Tickets. We also took advantage of the Preview Plan and visited the park for three hours the night before our full day.

Before I close, I'm going to stick in a few random photos from the Lancaster area, thereby blogging out the rest of this particular vacation.

Sampled shoo-fly pie, here.

Found this dog statue on the campus of Franklin & Marshall College.

Strasburg, PA: Amos (Hershey Farm Restaurant and Inn) and Barefoot Boy Eats with Pigs (Katie's Kitchen).

And last but not least: The Haines Shoe House in Hellam. This may well be my dream house. I can't say with 100% certainty (It was closed when we drove by, so I didn't get to tour the inside!), but chances are good that--any day of the week and twice on Sunday--I'd trade our log cabin for a giant shoe house.