Some good things I saw today
Ahead of me is a week of chaos, in which I, the Dad left behind while Mom goes on a trip, take on three children. In preparation for this, I treated myself today to a relaxing drive through Florida countryside. Ride shotgun with me:

--At a Wendy's in the rough part of DeLand, a mom and her kid walk from the Dollar General Store next door and deposit that day's shopping and a stroller in the back of a beat-up, rusted-out baby-blue '89 Mercury Topaz. They come into Wendy's -- mom looking a bit shabby, kid looking shabbier -- and sit down. Kid, about 3, gender undetermined, runs up to counter and yells, "Daddy! Daddy!" They're waiting for dad to get off from work behind the line at Wendy's. Kid looks happy to see Dad; Mom looks happy to see Dad. They seem like a perfectly happy family, despite material circumstances that appear way less than ideal. Good for them. It ain't what you don't have; it's what you do have.

--U.S. Highway 17 takes you north from DeLand to DeLeon Springs, a neat little town around a big state park. Impossibly tall pines, nothing but trunk for maybe 100, 150 feet before branches and needles appear. The road is lined on either side with these trees, standing majestically in perfect formation.

--Take a left on State Road 40 and head west over the St. Johns River into the Ocala National Forest. Owing to our rainy summer, everything is green; rivers run clear and strong; and the flora and fauna are vibrant. This is in stark contrast to when I lived here a few years ago, during one of the worst drought and wildfire periods in Florida history. The renewal is a thing to behold, and a reminder of how resilient nature is.

--State Road 40 takes you by Silver Springs Park, one of the pre-Disney Florida attractions struggling to remain viable in the New Economy. The parking lot stretches for nearly a mile along 40, and then for another mile south along SR 35. The parking lot was nearly empty on a Saturday afternoon. This is a shame; I've been to Silver Springs, and while it's cheesy just like other theme parks are cheesy, it's cool in a way that no other Florida theme park is. One of the attractions is a glass-bottom boat ride on the Silver River, which takes you into the real Florida, a land of cypress, clear springs and fascinating wildlife. It would be a shame to have that go the way of the drive-in movie.

--SR 35 leads you into Belleview and dumps you on County Road 25, which leads you east along the shore of Lake Weir through the little towns of Ocklawaha and Weirsdale. Weirsdale is the home of the Orange Grove Opry, by all appearances a really serious honky-tonk. I would have stuck around to hear the local talent if I'd had more time, but alas, CR 25 had other places to take me.

--CR 25 took me to U.S. 27/441, the road home. U.S. 441 leads me to Apopka, the home of the 2001 Little League national champs. I stopped off at the field where the Little Leaguers were playing as day turned into evening. Packed stands, burgers on the grill, Slim Jims and M&Ms available at the concession stand. The teams were from the 9-10 year-old division. Crisp uniforms, with names on the back. Three coaches on each team. (Although, oddly, only one umpire. When I called games in Texas, I was part of a two-man crew. I can't imagine facing all those coaches by myself.)

I stuck around for a couple of innings, long enough to see some redemption. A kid was having trouble controlling his swing; he had struck out mightily his first time up. His next time up, with teammates on second and third, he was facing a 1-and-2 count. The coach tried to calm his hitter down. "Just looking for a base hit here, buddy," he said. "Don't try to hit it over the fence. Just make contact." The kid nodded in his best "Yes, coach," nod, and took a couple of oh-so-level, oh-so-controlled practice swings. He took a deep breath and stepped back in. The pitch came and, disregarding his coach's instructions, he took another mighty cut -- and the ball sailed 10 feet past the center-field fence. The three-run homer broke the game wide-open. "Guess I'll go get that one," the coach said, smiling wanly, as he trotted out the gate and around the field to retrieve the ball.

--A couple of miles from home, I saw planted beside the road a series of homemade signs, the sort which usually announce garage sales or some such. These signs, hand-written in large, feminine penmanship and lined up in Burma-Shave fashion, read as follows:

"Hey you! Yeah, you!"

Then:

"Where have you been?"

Then:

"We've been waiting for you!"

Then:

"It's been 7 months!"

Then:

"OK, blame the Navy"

Then:

"Interested in some desert property?"

Then:

"The party's THIS way!"

An arrow pointed into a subdivision entrance. On either side of the entrance are two huge trees, each festooned with a yellow ribbon. The last sign, inside the subdivision, bigger than the rest, with two small American flags taped to the top corners:

"Welcome home, Marc!"

The party was several houses down, but you could feel the love all the way out on the main road. I thought briefly about finding a parking spot, ringing the doorbell, asking for Marc and, over the din of a houseful of really happy people, shaking his hand and saying "Thank you." Thank you for defending our country, and thank you for coming home alive to family and friends who clearly think you're really cool.

I didn't, of course. But it made my day to know I could have.