Faraway and the here & now

As a child, I was captivated by people who lived lives very different from my own, and by the sounds of words spoken to a different cadence. The pull of the unfamiliar was strong. I do not remember a time when I didn’t want to experience far away places.  I never outgrew the wanderlust. Today, the sound of a foreign language is still music to my ears and the promise of a trip is reason enough to pack up.

And speaking of music . . .

I knew the words to this popular song from the 1940s from an early age, and I still hum the tune occasionally.

“Far Away Places” has been a kind of theme song for me for as long as I can remember. That shouldn’t surprise anyone, given the name of of my blog!

And those strange-sounding names; oh, yes! They still beckon, more now that I realize my traveling days have been temporarily suspended by the nasty Coronavirus.

A chance mention recently of Dame Vera Lynn brought back all those early memories. The wartime “darling” of servicemen and their families during WWII just celebrated her 103rd birthday. She used the occasion to take to the airwaves, releasing a video urging British citizens to “keep smiling and keep singing.”

It’s quite extraordinary!

The haunting melodies and poignant words of her music characterized wartime separation, with words such as “Please say hello to the folks that I know. . .” and “don’t know where, don’t know when, but I know we’ll meet again.” Also, “It’s so hard to say goodbye.”

Classics of the time include “The White Cliffs of Dover” and “A Nightengale Sang in Berkeley Square,” “When the Lights Go On Again All Over the World,” along with “We’ll Meet Again,” “Far Away Places,” “Lili Marlene” and many others. So, today, when we face a future with a different kind of uncertainly, and we are newly and unhappily physically separated from family and friends, it seemed appropriate to play a lot of Vera Lynn melodies as I sit working from home — alone — at my computer.

Vera Lynn is still strikingly attractive and, from all reports, still healthy. She’s a remarkable lady, as I learned, topping the UK Albums Chart at the age of 92 with a new release of old favorites entitled “We’ll Meet Again.” At the age of 97, in 2014, her music once again scored a Number One hit with the collection “Vera Lynn, National Treasure.”

During the war years, Vera Lynn had a radio program and toured India, Burma and Egypt to entertain British troops. In later years, she became involved with various charities, including those benefiting ex-servicemen, disabled children and breast cancer. Her last public performance was outside Buckingham Palace in 1995 as part of the golden anniversary celebration of VE Day, and she sang again that evening at a public performance in London’s Hyde Park.

If you want to see her in action at a 1990 Royal Variety Performance, just click here.

In addition to a long list of honors for her efforts, in 1975 she was named a Dame Commander of the Order of the British Empire by Queen Elizabeth.

So, here’s to Dame Vera Lynn for taking me on a trip today, not only down memory lane, but also into a world of hope, just as she did for so many during those long ago war years. Let’s all act with the conviction that all will turn out well, and that we’ll all meet again in better days, to share good times and good food in faraway places.

Twists of fate . . .

. . . and other thoughts about travel to the far reaches of today’s shrinking world

As I have said before, and with apologies to Lee Marvin as well as to Lerner and Loewe, I was born “under a wand’rin’ star.” Wanderlust is real!

I am hooked on travel! 

As a freelance writer, I have convinced myself that it is also “my business” to be as informed as possible about popular worldwide destinations, off-the-beaten-path places, interesting excursions and inviting cruise ship itineraries. I enjoy every minute of it, and I keep a running list of possibilities that appeal to me for my own getaways.

I started out as a working journalist at a daily newspaper, and I remain a “newshound” to this day, eager to tell stories about people, places and events. I don’t regret leaving that part of my life behind, but I still sometimes miss being an active “participant” in major news events.

I have been following the Coronavirus outbreak in China with great interest, for all the above reasons, and also because of the serious worldwide health implications. My husband and I listen avidly to the live reports from David Abel and his wife Sally, British citizens on board the quarantined Diamond Princess. But we have watched events unfold, and remained only interested bystanders half a world away.

Until two days ago

Our next planned journey was to have been a trans-Pacific sailing on the 2,200-passenger Celebrity Millennium, scheduled to depart Yokohama, Japan on May 10. We had flight reservations that would have given us a few days in Tokyo prior to the cruise, and allowed us to see friends in Vancouver, B.C. following disembarkation, prior to returning home. We were concerned, but relatively confident that the spread of the virus would be contained during the next 90 days, and that our trip across a vast stretch of ocean would proceed as scheduled without risk.

On Wednesday, we were notified by Celebrity Cruises that the remainder of the Asian cruise schedule for “the Millie” had been suspended. Our cruise and others were to be canceled. The ship would sail early to North America in preparation for a summer season of cruising Alaska. No other details were offered. We shared the disappointment of thousands of other passengers whose vacation plans had instantly been crushed. 

For this single ship of this one cruise line, five sailings were canceled, affecting thousands of booked passengers. Route changes and port cancellations are announced daily by other major cruise companies, and the ripple effect is enormous. Not only is there a huge economic impact on the cruise lines, airlines, hotels and excursion operators, but necessary logistical issues are mind-boggling. 

As we faced the task of canceling reservations yesterday, I ran across some forgotten notes in a travel folder of ideas for 2020 travel. And, to use one of my current favorite expressions, I was gobsmacked.

I had written:

“RT Tokyo — 15 days — Jan 20-Feb 4. Japan, Hong Kong, Vietnam. Diamond Princess — cabins available at good prices — air about $925, estimated”

They were just some quick notes that I hadn’t acted upon, choosing instead to begin the year with other trips, lured by the prospect of the journey from Japan to Canada with 10 relaxing  days at sea. I booked another, shorter, closer-to-home trip for early in the year, and moved on.

Reading that scribbled note, I realized that had I made another decision several months earlier, my husband and I would currently be quarantined aboard Diamond Princess in Yokohama harbor. I imagined the weight of the fear that we might test positive for a worrisome new virus, now bearing the name COVID-19.  It was a sobering thought, even though for just an instant I thought about the stories I could tell about that experience!

More news . . .

Earlier today, Royal Caribbean, the parent company of Celebrity, announced that two of their ships will spend the next several weeks offering complimentary cruises to fire-fighting crews and first responders in Australia and California. There are also plans underway to deliver needed supplies to health authorities in China and Asia. We will miss our own time aboard the Millennium, but we are happy to know that the ships will be used for other good purposes.

In addition, I cannot help but smile at the Facebook post of a member of the pastry crew on board Diamond Princess. I know there must be some moments that come close to despair for the quarantined crew, but this is truly an example of indomitable spirit!

Now that I have had another day to consider, I am convinced more than ever that travel is “life-changing.” I still believe that travel is always a good idea; it just doesn’t always happen the way we would choose! 

We certainly hope that all passengers and crew aboard the quarantined ship are able to return home well and resume their normal lives as soon as possible. We will continue to watch the reports, and to follow the mounting efforts to control this virulent virus. 

Ode to February

Saturday, in north central Texas, my day began grey and chilly, with a temperature reading just below freezing. The sun appeared later in the afternoon, but I never warmed up. Sunday was sunny and the temperature hovered in the mid-70s. By midweek, another dip into the 30s, with possible snow, was expected. That may be the norm this time of year, but I was happy to hear that Punxsutawney Phil didn’t see his shadow Tuesday, giving me hope that soon I can put away my fleece-lined moccasins and go back to flipflops!

My husband and I did just that the end of January as we snuck off for a few days of R&R. I feel as if I’m still playing catch up from November’s travels, but that didn’t keep us from running away to the sea and sun south of the border. Five days aboard Royal Caribbean’s Enchantment of the Seas, sailing out of Galveston, were a tonic that let us return home refreshed and renewed, even if we did return to cold.

A getaway trip to sun and warmth

It was another of those whims when I booked the cruise several months ago — a deal just too good to refuse, with the benefit of an easy drive to the port rather than the hassle of a flight to a distant coast.

Our quick getaway to Cozumel and Progreso was not timed for lazy days on the beach, but a pampering routine aboard a mid-size cruise ship, Enchantment of the Seas, felt good. We came home with a fresh outlook and boundless appreciation for the cruising lifestyle, as always. However, in tiny Cozumel, we were certain that tourists outnumbered residents. There were seven ships in port the day we called at the island! Ours appeared to be the small one!

We delighted in the lack of schedule. We took full advantage of the “luxuries” offered: A dedicated staff to cook and serve, no alarm clock, afternoon naps, and plenty of time to do absolutely nothing. We enjoyed the food, the shipboard shows, and simply walking around the ports. We finished a book each, started reading new ones, and engaged in lively conversation with fellow cruisers. I even squeezed in a few hours of work!

Keeping busy on board

We participated in a sushi-making class offered on board, and enjoyed sampling our efforts for that day’s lunch. We participated in an All-Access ship’s tour another day, relishing a walk through the “belly of the vessel.” The behind-the-scenes activity and inner workings of a large cruise ship are captivating. We learned that there are four full decks below the water line, with ample food and drink stores on board to serve the 3,000 plus passengers and crew for an additional seven days, should it ever become necessary.

In view of the current news about passengers quarantined aboard another cruise ship off the coast of Japan, that becomes an important fact.

We were duly impressed with the high-tech engine control room, the procurement and storage areas, and the ship’s systems, including a busy laundry and highly-orchestrated kitchen. We visited the bridge, where ship’s officers on duty around the clock stand watch, monitoring the course as well as the weather.

The effort expended to make cruising an enjoyable experience for all passengers is truly impressive. Every aspect of cruise ship operation is superbly planned and executed, and it reinforces the value of this kind of vacation.

Looking to the future

Perhaps soon the temperatures will cease pingponging between seasonal norms and unwelcome cold. All too soon, I may once again complain about Texas heat and reset the air conditioning.

I have not forgotten the stories I promised to tell about our November trip to the Mediterranean and the Adriatic. I realized that the days have flown by when I looked over a post I began on December 1. We arrived home on Thanksgiving Day, and somewhere between the pumpkin pie and New Year’s Eve toasts, I got lost.

January passed all too quickly, as had December.

So, to whet the appetite for what is to come, I’ll just post a handful of photos from last week. And then I plan to get busy writing all those other stories, and looking forward to upcoming adventures.

Come along, won’t you? Follow me to receive email notifications of each new post, and visit me on Facebook and Instagram.

The gift of the unexpected

Call it grit. Call it fortitude. Call it experience, acceptance, resignation — any number of descriptive terms can be applied. The truth is that every one of them is appropriate.

We were witness to the pluck and determination exhibited by Venetians during the recent record-setting rainfall, flooding and tides that washed over the lagoon and gained worldwide attention in late November.

Daily life and commerce was affected, to be sure. But daily life and commerce continued apace. Much seemed normal to a casual observer during a time when conditions were anything but normal.

Planes, trains and buses ran on time, waterbuses ran their scheduled routes, and other boats, including barges filled with building and clean-up materials, plied the canals, supplying goods and services to residents, hotels, restaurants and shops. Most gondolas and their gondoliers seemed at rest, waiting for sun and more forgiving water.

Portable boardwalks were repeatedy set up and subsequently removed along the busiest pedestrian thoroughfares. Christmas lights and decorations were much in evidence, and shoppers toted bags along with umbrellas, testimony that seasonal spirit and daily life intertwined.

Venetians donned their “Wellies” and rain hats and went about their business. Shopkeepers placed heavy mats inside their doors. Tourists snapped up “fluorescent-colored “cellophane boots with no quibbling over the 10 euro price, pulling them on and wearing them with no embarrassment.

Venice has a full-time population of only slightly more than 50,000, but up to 30 million tourists visit annually. We purposely chose an end-of-season cruise, hoping to encounter fewer crowds at every port, especially in Venice. We succeeded, but the city was by no means deserted!

Through it all, there was a pervasive air of unexpected good humor.

Venice was the last planned port of our 12-day cruise itinerary. Until almost the last moment, we were uncertain whether the call in Venice, scheduled as a three-day visit, might be canceled. When the captain announced that the water levels were receding and lower tides were predicted, we all breathed a sigh of relief. Disappointment turned to anticipation, even as we were advised that although St. Mark’s Square had reopened, the renowned basilica would remain closed.

Our arrival in the city was delayed by morning fog, its canal-hugging buildings shrouded in mist as our ship slowly made its way to its designated dock. It made for mystical photo opportunities, ship stewards passing coffee and pastries in the early dawn light to awed passengers pushing against deck rails even as the drizzle turned to pounding rainfall. The panoramic windows of interior lounges were equally crowded. The day dawned grey and chilly, but then a rainbow appeared. We had arrived in Venice.

Getting to the heart of Venice

From the port, the trip to the heart of the city involved a journey on foot to the tram known as the “People Mover,” then a transfer to a waterbus, where we joined other people — commuting businessmen, shopkeepers, local residents, office clerks, laborers, shoppers, students and visitors of many different nationalities — bound for stops accessible only by water.

The journey was instructive. We were surprised at how high the water was, still lapping at building doorways and bridge foundations. We were astounded at the visible watermarks that confirmed how much higher it had been in recent days. We remarked on the efficiency of the still-operating pump systems that continued to drain standing water from lower levels of Venetian buildings. We arrived at San Marco station in light drizzle.

As it turned out, the sun emerged as we made our way to St. Mark’s square. This was my first trip to Venice. I was not prepared for the sensory overload of entering the square. Any description seems quite inadequate. I can only imagine how it must feel when crowded with tourists. I am so happy to have had the chance to see it in its stillness.

I was — I still am — spellbound.

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The Basilica defies description

I don’t know how many photos I snapped. Every place I looked, from ground level to soaring roofs, held a view I wanted to remember. I stood in the center of this vast square and was completely captivated. I still have difficulty comprehending the size of the plaza, the opulence of each building’s architecture, and the magnificence of every vista.

And then, the final wonder of the day: Visitors were being welcomed into St. Mark’s Basilica. I am overwhelmed by my overwhelming emotional reaction. I honored the posted signs that prohibit photographs and videos of the interior, although I was sorely tempted to sneak at least one cell phone shot.

However, although many others did take their shots, I hold only my vivid mind pictures of the mosaics, the glistening gold ceilings, the tapestries and the carvings. I also have a sense of how the musty, damp odor combined with the scent of candle wax to heighten the aura of sacred mystery. I am certain that this incredible structure will once again dry out, continuing to inspire future generations of faithful worshippers and curious visitors.

We wandered along the city’s uneven paving stones for a time, stopping for a late lunch at an inviting restaurant. Then, in the late afternoon, we found our way back to our starting point, boarded a waterbus, and settled in with Venetian commuters for a winding canal journey to Plaza Roma. We transferred once again to the train for a quick ride back to the port and our waiting cruise ship, our floating “hotel.”

My husband and I would disembark the next day. Our plans called for us to pick up a rental car and spend a few days exploring Croatia, before returning to Venice.

The introduction to Venice was not at all what we had expected. It was more than we had hoped.

Surprises in the off-season

The experience was reminiscent of our trip to France in late January and early February of 2018. That year we flew into Paris at a time when the Seine was flooded, and departed two weeks later with snow blanketing the city after a paralyzing blizzard. It was a memorable time, for some of the same reasons.

Paris and Venice. Though distinctly different, both cities boast an abundance of architecture, art, history, culture, food and drink — enough to satisfy the appetite of any traveler. But to experience the cadence of life during imperfect times is an opportunity that not every visitor receives. My husband and I treasure that gift.

Coming posts and photos will chronicle our all-too-short visit to Croatia, as well as the “small-ship experience” aboard Pacific Princess, and our impressions of other ports along the Mediterranean and Adriatic coasts.

Please join me for the journey.

47 years ago . . .

Earlier this year, we paid homage to an event that changed our world. Shortly after Neil Armstrong proclaimed “The Eagle has landed” 50 years ago, he became the first man to set foot on Earth’s moon. Many of us recalled the awe we felt while watching grainy television pictures as he stepped off the ladder of the lunar module, onto the moon’s surface and into history. It was July 20, 1969. Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin spent about seven hours on the surface.

Today marks the anniversary of another event that is not nearly as well known. NASA’s Apollo 17 Mission landed on the surface of the moon 47 years ago. The date: December 10, 1972.

Mission Commander Eugene Cernan, and fellow scientist-astronaut Harrison “Jack” Schmitt, lunar module pilot, claimed their place in history. The mission set a number of records, including the moon visit of longest duration and the most extra-vehicular activity. The pair spent just over 22 hours on three separate excursions across the moon’s surface.

Three days after the landing, Cernan followed Schmitt up the ladder to reboard lunar module Challenger. Shortly after they fired the engine that would return them to moon orbit and reunite them with Pilot Ron Evans aboard the command module America. They returned safely to earth and splashed down in the Pacific on December 19.

Cernan was the “last man on the moon,” and that also became the title of his book. Before leaving the surface he spoke the following words:

“. . .as I take man’s last step from the surface . . . I’d like to just [say] what I believe history will record. That America’s challenge of today has forged man’s destiny of tomorrow. And, as we leave the Moon at Taurus-Littrow, we leave as we came and, God willing, as we shall return, with peace and hope for all mankind. Godspeed the crew of Apollo 17.”

I remember the words. I remember the excitement of those times. The prospect of space travel fueled my dreams for a number of years. The wonder remains.

A pair of special reminders of the Apollo 17 mission have a place of honor on my fireplace hearth. They are bronze castings of actual footprints of the boots that were part of Cernan’s moonwalk “uniform.”

I have other mementos of U.S. space missions, including the patches that represent Apollo 11 and Apollo 17 missions and a screw from “Liberty Bell 7,” the capsule piloted by Gus Grissom during the second U.S. human space flight in 1961.

I hold vivid memories of witnessing the Cape Canaveral launch of the last flight of Space Shuttle Columbia from Cape Canaveral. If you’re at all interested in space missions, I highly recommend a visit to the Cosmosphere, an impressive museum in Hutchinson, Kansas.

I frequently still look up at the night sky hoping to catch a glimpse of the ISS as it orbits our globe. I also check in occasionally to view NASA’s real-time views of the home planet.

It was in 1984 that President Ronald Reagan directed NASA to build the International Space Station (ISS), but construction did not begin until 1998, when development of reusable American shuttles made it feasible. Assembly of the various components spanned 10 years and required 30 missions by various nations to transports the parts.

Moon landings and travel to other planets were the stuff of dreams. But they were not to continue. The NASA program to explore the universe, both close to home and far away, faced serious budget constraints and criticism even then, and priorities shifted to more earthly concerns.

That may change. President Donald Trump has expressed a commitment to send astronauts back to the moon before heading to Mars. And private companies, including SpaceX and others, have made public their plans to transport tourists into orbit and, perhaps, to the moon. NASA is testing an updated spacecraft, the Orion, for possible unmanned moon orbit, in addition to designing a space station for moon orbit.

Perhaps the day will come when space travel truly is as commonplace as an earthly airplane trip. After all, if John Glenn, the first man to actually orbit the earth, could return to space 37 years later at age 77, perhaps nothing is impossible. I like to believe that seemingly impossible dreams have always been a part of our reality.

So much world to see . . .

It’s already December!

My husband and I returned home tired in the late afternoon of Thanksgiving Day this year, after nearly 24 hours of travel spanning thousands of miles, seven time zones, and airports in four separate countries. We left Venice’s Marco Polo Airport in the rain and fog at first light on Thursday, and landed at sprawling DFW Airport at twilight, in thick fog and persistent drizzle.

The sky in Brussels earlier in the day had been clear, and even though the pilot announced it was blustery and cold in Montreal, the snow had stopped by the time we arrived, leaving only a dusting of white on the ground. It caused minimal delay. On this Thanksgiving Day, I was grateful for the instruments that guided our pilots and for the “weather window” that brought us home on time!

We booked the trip with full knowledge that an end-of-season cruise to Mediterranean and Adriatic ports comes with inherent risk of cool and rainy days, but off-season travel also promises smaller crowds and more chance to interact with local people. We like that. An alluring itinerary combined with the appeal of small-ship cruising aboard the 670-passenger Pacific Princess had sealed the deal for us.

It became an adventure we will not soon forget, marked by minimal deck time, grey skies, winds, occasional high seas, fog and intermittent rain. Some excursions were altered or canceled due to unfavorable conditions. None of that dampened our spirits, because the small-ship experience was much better than we had expected. We feel as if we forged life-long friendships in just 12 days!

Following the cruise, we rented a car and set off to explore the Istrian Peninsula and coastal Croatia for a few days. We ate well, drank local wine and beer, were captivated by the history, enthralled by holiday preparations, and charmed by the people we met along the way.

Mark Twain’s line comes to mind:

Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness, and many of our people need it sorely on these accounts. Broad, wholesome, charitable views of men and things cannot be acquired by vegetating in one little corner of the earth all one’s lifetime.”

Our time away was marked by pleasant days and relaxing evenings, good entertainment, friendly faces, fine food, impressive sights and wonderful experiences. We returned home tired but rejuvenated, filled with delight, invigorated by memories of people and good times. We learned a lot, made new friends, and affirmed once again that travel is indeed the antidote to narrow-mindedness.

Follow my blog to read about our travels; or follow me on Facebook.

After a brief hiatus from writing about my travels, I am once again ready to tell new stories. I hope you’ll join me: We’ll visit Malta, several Italian ports, San Marino — the oldest republic and one of the smallest sovereign nations on earth, Croatia and Slovenia. Finally, I have pictures of Venice, during the aftermath of the worst flooding in 50 years, illuminating the indomitable spirit of the city’s residents.

There is no doubt that travel changes a person, in a good way!

Faraway is close at hand . . .

It recently occurred to me that the small town in Texas I now call home is the “faraway” to most of the world’s inhabitants. It’s still true that most places on earth are totally unfamiliar to most of us, even though we refer repeatedly to “the shrinking planet.” There are enough faraway places to keep me occupied for several more lifetimes!

In preparation for the next getaway, I have lately been googling “best things to do in . . .” as an attempt to separate “must do’s” from “possibles.” I’m trying, as always, to jumpstart trip-planning. It’s a task I never finish in advance, but half the fun of going is facing the unexpected. The other half is the anticipation of what’s already decided!

Learning about home . . .

On a whim, I plugged in “best things to do in Burleson, TX.” It was more than just interesting, just short of enlightening. I have started a new mini-list of places to go and things to do right here in my own faraway place. I still qualify as a new arrival, at least in the eyes of born-and-bred local friends.

There are plenty of newcomers to Burleson, drawn by proximity to Fort Worth, reasonable prices, good schools and a distinctive small-town aura. There is a unique vibe — a progressive attitude with pervasive ties to the past — and no shortage of friendly people. This dot on the map was established in the early 1880s as an interim stop for the railroad running south out of Fort Worth.

Later, in 1912, an interurban rail line from Fort Worth to Cleburne also operated a station in Burleson. That depot still stands today. It is, in fact, a cornerstone of the town’s historic district, the focus of a cosmetic redevelopment plan that extends several blocks in each direction from city hall. The historic depot and two early interurban passenger cars will figure as prominently in the city’s future as they did in its past, when trains rumbled through 10 times each day.

Freight trains still run twice daily, sounding mournful whistles and stopping traffic at local crossings. I like that, because I’ve been a lifelong fan of trains and train whistles. (Can you guess why? Because they take people to faraway places, of course!)

Where commonplace and uncommon meet

During my online search, I learned:

There is a periodic ghost tour that makes at least five stops at local “haunts.” There may be no regular schedule, but that tour is on my list!

There is a Coldstone Creamery — how I’ve missed that, I do not know, but I am no stranger to other ice cream shops and numerous pizza parlors!

In 1920, the population was 241. The 2010 census reported 36,690 residents, and next year’s count is likely to exceed 50,000. Whether that is good or not depends largely on one’s point of view.

There’s at least one popular sports bar that features karaoke nights. I will probably continue to miss that attraction, a decision regulars there will surely applaud!

Learning new things about the place I call home made me stop and think about the other places I’ve been recently, those with histories that span many centuries. Burleson is only a child on the world stage.

But my small Texas city is charging forward, growing and taking giant steps to build a sound, healthy, connected community that is good for business, good for residents, supportive of its students and its seniors, welcoming to newcomers, and attuned to citizen wants and needs. It is progressive in all the best ways, and still manages to cherish its past.

It is comfortable.

Reality is the intruder . . .

There are still working farms within Burleson’s borders, along with golf courses and city parks, a creek-size tributary of the Trinity River, a stocked fishing pond, and two local wineries. Its previous rural character is still evident, and getting anywhere in town takes only minutes.

It remains small-town enough to boast large turnouts for summer music and movies on a blocked-off downtown street, for local holiday parades, and for patriotic observances at the city’s Veterans Plaza. It is a place where one can stumble upon painted rocks, left in public places by the volunteer artists of Burleson Rocks. They are meant to be found and treasured by passers-by. And several of its buildings are enlivened by colorful, larger-than-life murals.

It is a place where friends can meet for a spontaneous dinner out without making reservations, and where the sounds of live music drift from a local craft brewery/eatery’s rooftop deck on pleasant evenings. The drumbeat of high school marching band practice punctuates early mornings in the early fall, and local high school football games attract Friday night crowds.

Rabbits and possums are regular backyard visitors, and finding Texas longhorns, horses, donkeys, and even young camels grazing in a field is not entirely unusual.

Even though a busy Interstate runs through it, my city is not a tourist destination by any stretch of the imagination. But if you find yourself in Fort Worth for business or pleasure, Burleson is only about 20 minutes south of the high-rise office buildings and hotels, and it beckons to visitors with the promise of an entirely different Texas experience.