Kerry Rowand

Recently I’ve come across stories of folks hitting the road – in search of a journey, not a destination. Like Ara Gureghian, who travels the country by motorcycle, sharing his thoughts, photographs and videos on his blog. And like photographer Alison Turner, who tours the country by van,  taking portraits of new acquaintances along the way.

There is a simplicity, a bravery, to embracing a life on the road. To traveling light, and to trusting in your spirit of adventure above your fear of the unknown.

You can’t drive far in South Florida without hitting construction. Roadways are lined with cranes, temporary dividers, and mounds of dirt that resemble giant ant hills.

It’s often unclear whether the construction projects are active – on their way to completion – or abandoned, left as reminders of progress that never came to be.

Every day I drive past a tax preparation office. Its name is very American, and no fewer than a dozen flags surround the entrance.

Painted on one side of the building is an American-themed mural. And in front of the mural, an American.

Happy Tax Day.

Around the start of 2013, I googled a list of holidays to add to my calendar. I was surprised to find a few new ones, among them Black Friday and Cyber Monday.

It’s obvious that US holidays have become increasingly commercial. But they have also become rushed, as evidenced today when I went in search of St. Patrick’s Day displays only to find Easter (still two weeks away).

So rather than pause to celebrate the day, I suppose the new sentiment would be just to cry “NEXT!”

Living in a warm climate, near beautiful beaches, is nice. And this time of year, it’s not just the locals who realize it.

Yup, it’s tourist season, when folks from as far north as Canada have had their fill of winter and head south.

In theory, I am welcoming. However, as hoards of visitors keep me from getting a parking spot at the grocery store or a table at a local restaurant – or from making it to work in under an hour – I am reminded of a bumper sticker belonging to my father-in-law, a hunter, who also lives in a seasonal beach community. It reads “If it’s tourist season, why can’t we shoot ‘em?”

And a la God Bless America, I can kinda see his point.

I spend a lot of time looking at fine art photography. But the most memorable photograph of the past week was taken not by an artist, but by a machine at a hospital: an x-ray of my fractured foot.

An event like this will certainly give you a new perspective. Not until I was forced to use crutches did I ever wonder, why is the handicapped bathroom stall the furthest from the door? And only after spending hours searching WebMD did comedian Marc Maron’s advice resonate: “Folks, don’t Google mouth cancer.”

But while I’m thankful for this new perspective, here’s to hoping it’s only temporary.

I’m not always proud of my taste in television. Particularly when procrastinating.

Earlier this week, when faced with the prospect of starting my taxes, I watched as a reality show bride-to-be tried on wedding dresses. When she came out of the dressing room in option number one, her mother declared, “It’s too plain, needs embezzlement.”

I laughed out loud, waiting for someone to correct her. Perhaps a gentle “I think you mean embellishment.” But alas, no one batted an eye. And I was left sighing on the couch, half wanting to write Mike Judge an Idiocracy fan letter, and half wondering, is it me?

You might be a hoarder if. . .

While I am not a sports buff, I am a fan of gluttony. So this Superbowl Sunday, enjoy the nachos, chicken wings, pizza and beer from a comfy spot on the couch.

Cheers,

Some celebrations commemorate historic events. Others, a mere an excuse to drink and play dress up. Florida’s Gasparilla Pirate Fest (a sort of pirate-themed Mardi Gras) delivers a little of both.

And not unlike Karaoke night, some revelers get in the spirit a little more than others.

I don’t often read my horoscope. However, this long weekend I had time to sit down with the paper. I skimmed all the way through to the back (where all the really important news lives) and found this advice: wander around, in search of the dreamers.

Mission accomplished.

Like my 5-year-old nephew, the Tampa Bay area is big on pirates. Buccaneers for the football fans and a Gasparilla Pirate Festival for the local revelers.

In keeping with the spirit I have unearthed some buried treasure in the area, most recently at a local flea market. Arrrr!

To all those hitting the road this holiday season,

Wherever you find yourself, may you be surrounded by cheer.

Happy Holidays.