Years later, when all my friends were watching American Bandstand, I was hanging out at Yankee Stadium. But years pass; my sports team loyalty switches from baseball to football – and now a native of Washington, DC, maybe the Capitals hockey team. But it was an upcoming trip to Cooperstown, NY – home of the Baseball Hall of Fame – that brought me six decades back to that baseball-crazy little girl – and the fear that I wouldn’t even care.

So here I am. And I do. Hard not to focus on baseball when the whole town is obsessed, as noted on well-worn t-shirts sporting (pun intended….) the mantra: “A drinking town with a baseball problem.”

Just walking along Main Street is a not-so-subtle introduction to the local past-time. A quick bite at the Dugout Bar and Grill; a storefront promoting Safe at Home collectibles; Shoeless Joe’s – a Field of Dreams reference – promises more baseball memorabilia; a Baseball Town Motel offers lodging, and the Heroes of Baseball Wax Museum provides a niche version of the usual famous figures. Want a bat with your name inscribed on it – and who wouldn’t? Visit the Bat Store. Okay, I get it – it’s a baseball town. But does it have to be everywhere???

Apparently, yes. Several folks in baseball uniforms strolling the street without drawing any attention. And because it was fall, there were pumpkins displayed along the street – all sized like huge baseballs.

Even the toothpicks in the The Otesaga Resort Hotel Restaurant have tiny baseballs attached to their tip.   Baseballs apparently come in many sizes… A TV in one of the diners had a football game on – man, did that seem out of place!

At the Doubleday Café, I snarkily asked if it would be more appropriate to be called the Doubleheader Cafe, until someone patiently – and no doubt a tad pityingly – explained to me that Abner Doubleday was credited with inventing baseball. I slithered away from the café and was only slightly mollified to later discover that actually he hadn’t….

Want to literally walk in the steps of Hall of Famers? Plan to stay at the stately The Otesaga Resort Hotel, an historic Cooperstown landmark, that houses new inductees, their families and former Famers every Induction year. Apparently, pretty much every Hall of Famer ever has stayed at the resort. And has probably had one of their toothpicks holding a cherry or an olive in a drink.

Which brings us back to the Baseball Hall of Fame – clearly the rest of the town is just an extension thereof. Where to begin? An introductory movie starts with a trivia quiz of memorable moments – and then tells you where in the Hall you can get more information or find the famous memorabilia referenced on film. In case you want to see a ball from the first game at which admission was charged – September 10, 1858 – you’ll know right where to go.

Lou Gehrig. Cal Ripken. Sandy Koufax. Nolan Ryan. Willie Mayes. Despite my many years away, I still knew a surprising number of players. And it was still thrilling.

Traversing the many hallways of the Hall, it was like walking on sacred ground. You could spend two hours – or two weeks – and still find stuff to see. The first, a photo gallery covering generations of greats, of course has write-ups of those on exhibit. But it’s the intimate quotes from the players themselves that humanize the entire sport.

And when I got to the Yankees Highlights Era, I was channeling a very excited 10-year-old self. I found Mickey and Yogi and felt an immediate kinship. It was like they knew I was coming back after all these years just to see them. Or maybe not…. Ten-year-olds can be very unreliable narrators.

Of course, there was also Babe Ruth and Hank Aaron and Satchel Paige. I wouldn’t say that even if you have no interest in baseball, you’ll be enthralled. But still, if only a fair-weather fan there will be something that will delight you.

A large display that caught my interest was devoted to the origin of women’s baseball teams – 1943-54 – which inspired the movie A League of her Own. It warmed my little 10-year-old heart. In my high school days, there was no Title IX, no girls’ baseball team, no opportunity for me to play a game I already loved – and I felt deprived my whole life. I coulda been a female Moose Skowron….

Later at another local baseball-infused tavern, three TVs were tuned to baseball games. After spending so much time at the Hall of Fame, I didn’t know whether they were historic replays – or current games.

But yes, if you happen to go into baseball overload, there are other Cooperstown diversions to be enjoyed. A Glimmerglass Queen boat tour on Otsego Lake, a living history farm museum that takes you back to 1840’s rural life, the Fenimore Art Museum – and yes James Fenimore Cooper, author of the Last of the Mohicans, was a Cooperstown native in the town his father founded. Also Fly Creek Cider which is a museum in its own right with so much to see and sample.

But if the 10-year-old inside me has a say, I would never leave the Baseball Hall of Fame. Mickey and I still have some unfinished business….

For more information, visit baseballhall.org, www.otesaga.com and www.thisiscooperstown.com.

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Things I am not doing: I am not calling home for messages. I am not reading texts or emails on my phone. I am not scrolling for news. My phone, in fact, is in my bedside drawer at the hotel. The hardest part for me: not doing Wordle.

Going for walks is an allowable do nothing activity so strolling – as distinguished from scrolling….– around the cute beach-side town of Rehoboth, Delaware a couple of hours east of Washington, DC is allowed. Shopping, not so much. Reading t-shirts in a shop, okay. “If a man says he will fix it, he will. There’s no need to remind him every six months.” Now that’s worth an appreciative look. “I’m going to go stand outside, so if anyone asks, tell them I’m outstanding.” “Exercise? I thought you said extra fries.” That could be a Thrasher’s reference but more on that later…..

Maybe I’d better explain. I travel a lot. It’s my work and most trips are filled with story-gathering activities round-the-clock. Have to do all the must-sees and track down those unknowns off the beaten track. Lots of planning, organizing, researching – even the restaurants have to be studied. So the idea of a do-nothing vacation had a lot of appeal. Relaxing. Stress-free. Laid-back. I just didn’t know how much work it was going to be.

Restaurants are tricky. Rather than seeking out the umbrella-clad cocktail du jour, I was much happier hanging out at a local bar mid-day with my go-to Fireball over light ice. I’m an exercise fiend at home but here, raising a glass from the top of Whisky Jack’s bar – could any name be more perfect for what I was seeking out? – was about as much exertion as I could muster. The resultant smile on my face almost pushed me over the top. I think I was getting the hang of this do-nothing concept.

Rather than research the de rigueur restaurants of Rehoboth, I opted instead to stop for ice cream and the area’s famous Thrasher’s French Fries. Reading the weird ice cream flavors in the street-front parlor that boasts 100 different flavors was almost as much fun as reading t-shirts: “I Don’t Give a Fork,” “May the 4th be With You,” and “Better than Sex.” Reading a hundred ice cream flavors is time-consuming. How fortunate there was nothing I actually needed to DO.

Sitting on a boardwalk bench with my fries – somehow unlike any other (Thrasher’s refuse to provide ketchup because, I assume, that would tarnish the original flavor) – and people watching. Does that count as an activity? So many different humans going in so many different directions, all so intent on their own drummers – it was exhausting to watch. I was just happy to stay exactly where I was, watching the seagulls, busily squawking and hurtling toward a dropped French fry. Seagulls are actually more exhausting. I felt even more of a need to just unwind.

Truth be told, at one beach bar it was so bright and noisy I found it very hard to chill out the way I’d envisioned. Next time – dark, quiet and low key. So first night out, big mistake.

Feeding – so to speak – my preference for down-and-dirty restaurants as opposed to white-tablecloth, the comfortable and casual Gogg’s perfectly matched my mind-numbing mood on night out number two.

Alright so there was a menu with 100 rums, rivaling the 100 ice cream flavors. Could get testy. Resisting the threat of stressful decision-making angst, I simply opted for my favorites, thus enjoying the novelty of such variety while avoiding indulging in executive-level anxiety. A win-win. I didn’t have to do anything but eat and drink.

But, of course, any further activity-involved nightlife did not qualify. Back to my do-nothing balcony. Listening to waves never disappoints.

So yes, there are arcades in Rehoboth I didn’t go to. I didn’t bike-ride on the Boardwalk. I avoided mini-golf. Although I did at times find myself lusting after all the emails I wasn’t reading. Again, hard work to do nothing.

The next day, on the beach again, I didn’t for one minute miss playing frisbee while relaxing on my chaise lounge.The one exception to my inactivity, however, was to indulge in one of my most fun undertakings: diving into waves! I allowed myself that delightful diversion before returning to a renewed level of slothness. And maybe one more relaxing drink at Whisky Jack’s.

So is this all much ado about nothing? You bet!

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Talbot County, Maryland is old. Very old. One of the earliest buildings dates back to 1682, a Quaker Meeting House, the site of the oldest religious building still in use in the United States. But more than the origin of its buildings, three favorite sons of the county encapsulate its history in different but fascinating ways. Two were symbols of the Revolutionary War, the other of the Civil War. One a resident (though he wouldn’t have been considered so at the time…) of St. Michael’s, another Oxford, and the third his very own island, Tilghman.

Let’s start with one of my favorite destinations in Washington, DC. Located high atop the Anacostia River is Cedar Hill, the home of Frederick Douglass, a structure which matches the man in stature, eloquence and grandeur. Douglass, whom many consider “the most eminent and respected African American of the 19th century,” was a runaway slave in 1838 at the age of 20. And it was an aha moment on a recent trip to Talbot County, Maryland to discover that it was that very county of his slave birth from which he ultimately escaped.

Several tours take you past his childhood home, areas he played in as a boy, and farms where he was indentured, as well as those areas he visited when he returned in his ’60s. Douglass recounted in multiple autobiographies the influence of Talbot County on his life and consequently, the influence of Douglass across the county and across the decades.

In St. Michael’s, we drove along the road he walked when his master, Thomas Auld, in 1834 rented the difficult Douglass to Edward Covey, known as the cruelest “slave breaker” in the neighborhood. I wanted to drive the seven miles as slowly as possible so as to put off the metaphorical but inevitable lashes as long as possible. Douglass endured many.

From St. John’s Methodist Church, you can see the field of the Covey Farm where Douglass toiled in between his oft-earned punishments. Another area of Covey’s personal homestead, where his whip was often engaged, literally – and ironically – was located in a part of town known at Mount Misery. More ironically, Mt. Misery Road is juxtaposed to nearby Mt. Pleasant Landing. The extreme evil that is evident throughout Douglass’s early life is symbolic of all enslaved people and should reverberate through to today as too many wish to re-write history.

It’s one thing to intellectually know about the many cruelties of slavery – another to experience it through the eyes of an actual person who happened to also be a slave. Douglass finally escaped in 1838 to Baltimore and went on to become the icon we all revere today. But he did return to Talbot County – having said of his hometown, “It is always a fact of some importance to know where a man is born, if, indeed, it be important to know anything about him.” That tour was one of triumph.

Another famous name associated with Talbot County, Robert Morris, is one who unlike Douglass, spent little time there – just two years originally in his early teens – and yet the most famous inn in the area bears his name. He went on to become a very prominent merchant and as one of the nation’s Founding Fathers, was considered the “financier of the American Revolution.” He also was one of only two men who signed all three of the nation’s principal documents: the Declaration of Independence, the Articles of Confederation and the Constitution.

The Robert Morris Inn, which opened in 1710 as the River View House – the oldest full-service inn in America – still retains so much of that century’s ambience that I could easily picture him in the room next to mine. Not really such a far-fetched idea as he lived there as a child. He also later dined there with a friend of his – George Washington. Four of the 314-year-old rooms were indeed slept in by not only those Founding Fathers but many other dignitaries of the day – and since. As much of the original structure remains today, the inn exudes history.

As does the town it’s located in. Oxford, founded in 1670 and still looking much the same, is more than just a step back in time – it’s a visceral re-emergence into a pre-Revolutionary War timeline.

A town where people still do not lock their doors; so quiet it closes up by 9 p.m. on a Saturday night; old homes, waterways and few cars contribute to the sense of calm and isolation that pervades the town, a veritable throwback to congenial Americana. Benches at almost every street corner invite you to sit, relax and watch either worn working boats traversing multiple waterways or old homes such as the Barnaby House, dating back to 1770, with 95% of its original structure still intact. There are many of them. Even more inviting? A sign that says, “Welcome to our porch.” As one shopkeeper opined, commenting on the cohesiveness of the community, “I have to go downtown to find out what my plans are each day.”

Less a household name (except perhaps in Talbot County) is Mathew Tilghman.

Matthew Tilghman came to Talbot much later than the other two gentlemen and without some of their distinction though he, too, served honorably in the American Revolution, as well as the head of the Maryland delegation to the Continental Congress. He later served as a state senator. By a fluke of family providence, he inherited in the mid-18th century a tiny island at the end of the Chesapeake Bay, three miles long by one mile wide, that became a sanctuary for oyster-dredging waterman – and hasn’t moved much beyond since. Tilghman Island – whose street signs are shaped like little boats – makes Oxford look like a metropolitan thoroughfare.

The sign at Dogwood Harbor – basically a small pier – reads: Home of the last working fleet of skipjacks (First built in the 1890s for dredging oysters) in North America and Chesapeake Bay commercial watercraft. One of those is the Minnie V, a Chesapeake Bay skipjack built in 1906 and listed on the National Register of Historic Places. Down Walnut Creek Road with its vast expanse of the Chesapeake, several newer boats perpetuate the island’s heritage.

Sure, the Robert Morris Inn screams its connection to the financier; as does Tilghman Island its benefactor – but the many areas of Talbot County connected to Frederick Douglas are more subtle – you have to look for them but the story they tell is indelible. For more information, visit tourtalbot.org.

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Prohibition Museum, Savannah, Georgia:
When alcohol went from savior to sinful – and back again

The entrance way immediately transforms you to the era just preceding Prohibition from 1920-1933. A larger-than-life 1918 street scene of a truck transporting alcohol being prevented from moving by an angry crowd of protesters sporting signs reading “Liquor is a curse,” “Alcohol is poison” and “Bread not beer.” The protesters somehow felt uncomfortably reminiscent of today…

Welcome to Savannah, Georgia’s Prohibition Museum, the only museum of its kind in the country, where you don’t just learn about prohibition, you actually re-live it. The visit is only one of the many enticing excursions aboard American Cruise Lines Intra-Coastal Waterway Cruise from Amelia Island, FL to Charleston, SC – also the only cruise of its kind in the country.

Back to the immersive 1920’s, famed evangelist Billy Sunday is railing against “King Alcohol,” loudly proclaiming Savannah as the wickedest city in the world. Life-size re-enactments of the many facets of prohibition from the massive attempts to rid the sinners of demon drink to the creative efforts of moonshiners to replenish the loss greet you around every corner. Political cartoons lining the walls elucidate the conflict: what caused prohibition, how people responded to it, got around it and eventually over-rode it. Vintage newsreels – for example, of a coast guard vessel chasing a rum runner boat – further bring the era to life.

As I made my way through, I was mesmerized by how clever the whole presentation was. “Moderation is the key, not prohibition,” says August Busch, of the famed Anheiser-Busch Company. Literally says! He’s just a picture on the wall before he starts talking. And then gets into a fiery debate with a lady of the Temperance League several picture frames down. They really go at it. How can you not delight in such an imaginative historical spectacle!

The 18th Amendment prevailed enabling barrel bashing and bottle breaking while the economy itself tanked. People out of jobs, taxes lost, manufacturing hobbled – pretty sobering news, I’d say… But there were those who thrived. Al Capone, for instance. Also Lucky Luciano, Bugsy Moran and their compatriots.

Observed Capone: “When I sell liquor, it’s called bootlegging; when my patrons serve it on Lake Shore Drive, it’s called hospitality.”

A separate observation came from famous raconteur Will Rogers: “During prohibition it was said tailors would ask customers what size pockets they wanted: pints or quarts. “And others found ways around the restrictions. Pharmacists issued prescriptions for liquor for “medicinal purposes.” Take three ounces every hour for stimulant until stimulated. Doctor’s Orders.

And, of course, moonshiners across the country reaped in the prophits from the grain alcohol produced secretly at night. Ergo, the famous moniker. Another of the life-size exhibits had one such backwoods culprit talking directly to us about his business. Eerie – and effective!

The tour ends at a nondescript wooden door – somewhat imposing – but what kind of Prohibition Museum would it be without a speakeasy. Immediately, you know you need a password. A knock brings a small open slit in the door with a pair of menacing, shifty eyes behind it and a growl that says, “Who sent you?” The temptation, of course, is to say, “Al did,” until you notice scratchy chalk marks close by with Al crossed out and an admonition to say Gus. So you say Gus, and the voice behind the eyes mumbles something and then says okay. And in you go. The menu includes a long list of libations famous at the time and the modern versions they most represent. I had a Mary Pickford and my husband, the much-revered prohibition Boilermaker. Apparently fancy cocktails were the norm as bartenders had to get creative in order to mask the taste of poor-quality liquor. But at least these drinks were legal!

Throughout the bar, not surprisingly, are newspaper headlines announcing the end of prohibition: Happy Days are Beer Again and Sober City Hails Liquors Return. And apparently, the ramifications of that era exist today – at least according to the museum. There’s a whole section celebrating the fact that moonshine runners were the origin of Nascar. Not entirely sure how I feel about that particular legacy….

And like every other museum tour in the world, there is a gift shop with the de rigueur t-shirts that say: “Alcohol will not solve your problems (but neither will milk)” and “Technically speaking, beer is a solution.” Some teetotalers might regret the failure of the Prohibition Era but for one, a Fireball aficionado, certainly do not. For more information, contact americancruiselines.com; americanprohibitionmuseum.com.

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I looked tentatively at the load of shrimp, blue crabs, gar, sea trout and other nameless denizens of the deep as they were dropped into the boat. I volunteered to hold one even more tentatively — much more tentatively. But then I was making eye contact with a very cute sting ray and I’m pretty sure we had a moment.

My trip upon the Lady Jane Shrimp Boat in Jekyll Island, Georgia, in which naturalist Jeffrey explains the whole process of commercial net trolling and the many water creatures they catch along the way -several of which became fast friends — is but one of the many adventures to be had on the American Cruise Line Historic South and Golden Isles Intra-Coastal Waterway Cruise from Amelia Island, Florida to Charleston, South Carolina.

We learned a lot about the mouths, gills and tails of individual fish which I actually found more interesting than I would have expected. There are some very weird fish tales out there! But take time to look up at the flocks of birds following the boat. They knew what we had on board.

Overheard from a colleague on the way back to the ship: “If they wouldn’t serve us all that shrimp at meals, we wouldn’t have to go out and catch more….”

So we might as well first discuss mealtimes aboard the American Eagle. Maybe mealtime is more applicable because you can literally eat 24/7. There’s an Early Riser breakfast before the dining room breakfast; there’s a pretty much all day cafe in the Sky Lounge bracketing the more formal lunches and dinners; Cookie time at 10 and 3 provides obviously very necessary sustenance in between meals; one would think the cocktail hour and hors d’ouevres prior to dinner might interfere with the more than generous dinner options but of course that doesn’t happen — and an hour later, no one skimps on the open bar, ice cream treats and popcorn that accompany the evening entertainment. Did I mention that snacks and beverages are available 24/7 in the Sky Lounge?

Rest assured there’s a Fitness Room to counter all those calories but seriously, no one goes there. The saving grace? All meals come in half-portions, which themselves are more than sufficient in this close to 5-star restaurant.

The staff — who are not allowed to accept gratuities — are still remarkably agreeable. How often do you request a drink at an establishment that they don’t carry — and by the next night, it’s there? So it was with my Fireball. Need I remind you that we were on a ship at the time? Just as an aside, this ship — accommodating only about 100 passengers — is part of the only line in the world offering small US ships that operate like river cruises along US coasts.

If you can find time in between all the food, multiple daily excursions are offered to St. Simon and Jekyll Islands, Savannah, Hilton Head, Beaufort and Charleston.

On the trolley tour of Savannah, a city I’ve never been to before. I wasn’t expecting much, just another nice southern town. I was admittedly skeptical when the trolley driver started the tour by claiming that Savannah is the most fascinating town in America — but by the time the tour ended 90 minutes later, I was in total agreement.

The constant patter from Miss Pearl brought this historic wonderland to life. The picturesque streets just begging to be strolled upon with singular homes and stores; houses dating back to the 1700 and 1800’s with architectural flourishes of graceful, lace-like iron-work adorning balconies, columns and brackets. Wraparound porches adorned with decorative balustrades and whimsically designed gingerbreading give each structure its personal charm and distinction.

So much history visible right in front of you, peppered everywhere with almost two dozen parks and squares, ennobled by a famous statue. Even chain stores such as Starbucks, Five Guys and CVS blend into the historic ambiance. Surrounding the immersive history are huge oak trees, their gnarled branches dripping with Spanish Moss, forming canopies over the streets. I laughed when I passed a sign declaring “Savannah’s Historic District.” Kind of felt redundant at best.

The next mode of transportation was a golf cart traversing Pat Conroy country. You probably ought to know the author of The Prince of Tides, The Great Santini, The Water is Wide and others to appreciate even the idea of such an excursion. I qualified. But even if you’re not familiar with his books, you may be with the many movies made of them, all of which take place in the city where he lived. Beaufort, SC is another historic small town, with houses from the 1700’s, that delights even without the Pat Conroy connection.

Nor are they the only movies for which the town is famous – and whose settings are great fun to visit. Perhaps you’ve heard of Forrest Gump? Maybe even The Big Chill? Forces of Nature with Ben Affleck and Sandra Bullock? Glory with Denzel Washington? You pass scenes from the movies, houses the stars rented during filming, and the chocolate shop whose candies filled the famous box of chocolates Forrest Gump ate in the infamous bench scene.

A visit to the Prohibition Museum doesn’t teach you about that era – you instead inhabit it. From one life-size, immersive exhibit to another, you viscerally experience the hows and whys of alcohol’s early 20th century journey from poison to party staple.

And should you wish to stay on board — few people do, no matter their disabilities — ship activities abound. There’s Are you Smarter than a Fifth Grader; movie trivia; an Outrageous Laws game – you probably didn’t know that in Alabama, it is illegal to drive while wearing a blindfold — and the ever-popular Boozy Bingo. As silly and/or intimidating as they may sound, they are always fun. And the same can be said of the whole cruise!

For more information, visit americancruiseline.com.

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Denali National Park is larger than the state of Massachusetts and tenderly watched over by Denali — “the high one” — at over 20,000 feet the highest mountain in North America.Weather can be an issue. For current conditions, please follow this link here: https://www.nps.gov/dena/planyourvisit/conditions.htm

On an African safari, the goal is to spot the Big Five — lion, leopard, rhino, elephant, cape buffalo. In Alaska, the concept is the same — just the names are different: moose, bear, wolf, caribou and Dall sheep. But when we initially stopped to see a rabbit — okay, our guide called it a Snowshoe Hare — I thought, “This is not a good sign.” And in truth, you can’t always accurately decipher what you see in the distance: snow fills are mistaken for sheep; large boulders for bears. Hopes rise and are dashed and the guide takes refuge in another Snowshoe Hare.

But this is a tour for the long haul — and you’re not likely to be disappointed. And even more impressive, our driver/guide, with infectious enthusiasm, kept up a constant patter covering vegetation, history, animal lore, Alaska peccadilloes, personal experiences and other tantalizing tidbits for more than five hours. The fact that it was still interesting by that fifth hour is even more of a phenomenal accomplishment. The running commentary that accompanied our guide’s driving along narrow, winding roads clutching the mountainside while he rapidly gazed right and left for any movement that might indicate animal activity was a heroic act of multi-tasking I didn’t want to think too much about.

And there was always something to see –over the course of the tour, we saw numerous Dall sheep, occasional moose, caribou (the North American relative to the reindeer),the ubiquitous snowshoe hares, of course, and other native wildlife. And should the animals play hard to get for a period of time, just lifting your eyes to the proverbial snow-capped mountains in the distance is enough to keep you enthralled until the next native creature reveals itself.

Because the bus is so big, the sound of recognition travels like a wave from front to back — and there’s always a risk the animal the front has viewed is gone by the time the back of the bus catches up. But never fear. On the off-chance you miss the mama moose and her calf or the Dall sheep straddling a steep slope, it will magically appear on the TV screens lowered above the seats in the bus. Close-up images from the driver’s video camera are reflected on the drop-down screens. I was torn between resenting seeing my”in the wild” Alaska wildlife resembling a Discovery Channel documentary and feeling grateful I could see them at all — and close up at that.

But, in truth, I was in it for the bears. Earlier in the trip, I had discovered that we were there too early in the year (June instead of July) for the peak running season of the sockeye salmon and, therefore, too early for the bears to gather around the streams just waiting for those happily spawning salmon to fly into their mouths. My own mouth had been watering at the very thought of watching such a spectacle.

So once in Denali, I hoped at least to finally get my chance to see bears. Our guide kept reassuring us we would certainly see grizzlies, but by hour number five, when only a glimpse of brown had been seen once in the far distance, he finally, guiltily, sorrowfully, very apologetically acknowledged that maybe we wouldn’t this trip.

And then suddenly, the cry went out — waves of wows traveled along the bus — as a momma and two bear cubs came into view. “Hallelujah,” cried one excited passenger; “Thank goodness, we paid $5000 to see that critter,” noted another. Our guide admitted he was getting quite nervous — only 20 times in 18 seasons had he not seen a bear. It was far away and it clearly wasn’t catching any fish, but I did feel some sense of vindication.

At the end of the trip, our guide played back the video that captured the highlights of our bus trip from hare to bear and all the other denizens of Denali in between: the many Dall sheep, mama moose with twins, caribou, golden eagle, ground squirrels, ptarmigans(the state bird) and, of course, the bears. We just missed Alaska’s Big Five by one wolf. Not surprisingly, like the ubiquitous gift shop at the end of every museum tour, the video was for sale.

But Denali was only one stop on the Gray Line escorted Alaska Explorer Tour. There were also glaciers and mountains and gold mining history and native cultures and whale watching tours and frontier towns and backcountry plus a myriad of experiences I’ve had nowhere else.In the process, I learned to appreciate not only America’s Last Frontier but the hardy, independent-minded people who inhabit it. Still next time, I want to see more bears.

For more information, visit https://www.denaliparkvillage.com/tours/tundra-wilderness-tour or call 888-452-1737.88-452-1737.

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So my mid-January weekend escape to Hollywood, Florida where temperatures in the ’60’s immediately killed the momentary dream of sun, surf and beach bars posed a problem. How to entertain myself without too much pouting. I chose the Margaritaville Resort to further my research. In honor of Jimmy Buffett’s recent passing,this massive memorial to Beach Vibe, License to Chill, and Welcome to Paradise ambiance helped to lift my spirits. Okay, maybe it was more the plentiful margaritas – and the ever-present Jimmy Buffet serenade — that did that but I found my way to two intriguing outings. While always keeping in mind that it’s always 5 o’clock somewhere…. (assuming you all know that that is one of Buffett’s many legacies).

So I was ready to move on from his sonorous tones to the more live-band atmosphere at the Yellow Green Farmer’s Market. Over 300 booths all promoting sustainability through all kinds of artisanal products created by local artists and craftsmen didn’t disappoint.

The outside food court presented offerings from Mexico, Uruguay, Peru, Brazil, Ecuador. Notice a pattern? At one point I saw someone with a sweatshirt from a U.S. city and got excited – until I realized we were NOT in a foreign country despite the ubiquitous South American ambiance. Think of it as a mini-Epcot Center.

The expansive table area is surrounded by a large herd of life-size black and white cow sculptures for which I could see little purpose other than to re-enforce the idea of the farm part of the farmer’s market. Worked for me.

And we hadn’t even entered the huge barn containing all the afore-mentioned stalls proffering fresh fruits and veggies, baked goods, cheese and chocolates, plants and more varieties of nuts and dried fruits than you ever knew existed. Also clothes, backpacks, jewelry, African handicrafts, tropical oils, bath products and too many other items to even contemplate. If there’s anything you could possibly want, I promise you it’s there – you just need the patience to seek it out.

And, of course, there are even more food and drink options scattered throughout. Did I mention the free samples? And if you hadn’t already had enough Margaritas, they’re here too — along with Bloody Marys, Bellinis and Mojitos. And dogs – lots and lots of dogs – so indeed there are also lots of designated watering holes for them, as well.

Just when I thought I had found my way to the final aisle, I discovered multiple other arteries with multiple other interesting offerings. And just when I thought I had seen all of them, there was a fooz-ball game and a billiards table. I know dozens of towns and villages boast Farmer’s Markets of their own – and I’ve been to many – but the diversity of products, food items, entertainment — and for me, especially dogs – made this a most welcome diversion from Margaritaville.

If perhaps live animals and wild flowers appeal more than cow statues and bouquets for sale, the Flamingo Botanical Gardens and Wildlife Sanctuary heartily beckon. The first offers 3000 species of rare and exotic native tropical plants; the second, home to over 90 species of rescued birds and animals. On the way to the tram, I saw about a dozen cats and was hoping there was more to the wildlife. By the time I got to the Black Bear and the Panther, I was well reassured.

Just walking along the paths enveloped by green canopies, you are engulfed in foliage, small, large, low, high and enormous, with leaves the size of surfboards that make you stop and stare. Plants are light, dark, thin, thick, mottled, marbled. Birds – tall, short, multi-colored are everywhere – flocks of flamingoes, prancing peacocks and so many Ibises that they almost form a white blanket over the entire property.

The tram expands the journey into vast varieties of trees, plants, shrubs and lush vegetation where I felt mesmerized by the sheer green overload. I became one with the forest as the constant chatter of the guide faded into background noise. I was actually disappointed when we came back into sunlight.

My favorite enclosure was the cactus and succulent garden housing bizarre shapes, grotesque creations and other-worldly forms promoting nature at its most imaginative.

Other highlights included Wildlife Encounters with animals who have been injured or rescued. Okay, a lot more information than I cared to know but still interesting. Feeding frenzies of playful otters and majestic flamingoes and visits to bobcats, tortoises and other wildlife further delight.

Did I still miss going to the beach? Yes. Was I somewhat placated? Also, yes. For more information go to: Hollywood, Florida.

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The huge replica of a royal blue flip-flop that adorns the hotel lobby and the sign above the reservation desk that says “No Passport Required” immediately tells you you’re not at a Holiday Inn. The lengthy chandelier across the ceiling comprised of upside-down margarita glasses and the multiple song lyrics displayed around the hotel reinforce the Jimmy Buffett worldview. Do I even need to mention that Jimmy Buffett songs flow from speakers everywhere?

From No woman to Blame to Strumming my Six-string to Searching for my Last Shaker of Salt, the unmistakable voice accompanies you throughout the grounds. Strolling through the property, which ends up facing the ocean, the Welcome to Paradise, License to Chill and Beach Vibe will entice even those who have never heard of the groupie accolade of Parrothead! Think original Swifties! Not exactly your grandmother’s hotel. On the other hand, considering that Buffett’s heyday was in the ’70’s and ’80’s, that’s exactly what it might be…

How to describe hanging out in this flagship hotel’s Margaritaville Bar – one of a half-dozen dining options on the property? An indoor beach scene doesn’t capture it. Yes, there is seating in boat replicas. Beach videos adorn the walls. Each table has a different seascape, palm tree or other beach-related design. Even the floor resembles waves – and large coconut palms cascade downward. Pelican statues watch over you as you dine – if you can even for a moment take your attention away from the décor to actually order. Do I need to mention again what songs accompany this scenic overload?

The menu proclaims: A State of Mind Since 1977. And you feel that in your core. But let’s get to the important stuff. Margaritas. Although I understood there are 31 Margaritas to be had throughout the hotel, I was content with the 16 available at the Margaritaville Restaurant alone, with unsurprising names such as Who’s To Blame, Finns to the Left and Feelin’ Hot, Hot, Hot.

Now maybe I’m biased, but it seemed the bartender didn’t just make a drink, he crafted a work of art befitting the drink’s origin. Unlike the many other margaritas I’ve imbibed over the years, this concoction of flavors — all proprietary recipes, of course — caused my throat to smile as it caressed its way through my digestive system. Admittedly, that was after the third or fourth sampling. And, of course, the fact that Jimmy Buffett favorites were continuously being performed on stage helped the process along.

And it goes without saying that the property as a whole boasts multiple pools, slides, spa and all the other amenities typical of any up-scale hotel. But if you’re there for Jimmy Buffett, you’re in the right place.

Across the street is the iconic 5 o’clock Somewhere Bar, where the beach vibe continues with tables in the sand, reminding me of a plaque I once gave my husband: A Drink in the Hand, Toes in the Sand. Actually doing it is better than just reading about it. And if you need more diversion, you can play a round of corn hole, rent a kayak or attend the weekly “best dance party in flip-flops.” Okay, so yes – this one is just a bar – but with Jimmy Buffett’s vibe all pervasive and his music so immersive, for the moment I was thankful that it’s always 5 o’clock somewhere!

And if you’re still questioning the importance of the singer to Florida’s legacy, State Road A1A, a major Florida highway, will soon become Jimmy Buffett Memorial Highway while specialty “Margaritaville” license plates will be available throughout the state. Hard not to hum along….

For more information, contact https://www.visitlauderdale.com/beaches-and-beyond/cities-towns/hollywood and https://www.margaritavillehollywoodbeachresort.com.

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So it seemed only natural that I head to the world’s oldest distillery for a tasting. Mount Gay, founded in 1703. I’ve recently come from the Scottish Highlands where I sampled some of their famous scotch whiskys. Now being anything but a whisky connoisseur, I couldn’t tell any difference among the several “drams.” After multiple tries, I slinked out of the distillery. But I like rum. I drink rum. I know rum?

The distillery tour started with a welcome rum punch. Doesn’t count for anything in my book. We had to go through a two-hour introduction to the whole history of rum and the very intricate process of making it to finally earn the right to actually taste some.

Some of it, thanks to our energetic guide, Romal — the sound of whose very name reflects his occupation — was actually interesting. From its first inception, recipes were never written down, put passed from blender to apprentice. Each blender takes what exists and builds upon it so that the results are more than just another version of the same rum — but also a whole new experience. Most of the information is proprietary to Mount Gay and, as we were told, the process emphasizes quality over quantity, meaning nothing is rushed. Their motto: It’s ready when it’s ready! I figured somewhere there’s a little old grandmother in charge.

But finally, we got to the tasting. Romal instructed us how to hold the glass, to twist it to reveal “legs,” to smell it. One rum, ages 3 to 7 years, was “robust and bold.” The second, older, was “more complex with a more definitive ‘mouth feel.'” That was the tasting. Not much to go on. At least my quasi-sophisticated familiarity with rum (after all, I had been in Barbados for almost two weeks) told me the second rum was smoother than the first. Did I taste the hints of salted caramel, cinnamon and fruitcake? Not a chance! More slinking…

However, after even a moderate imbibing of the smooth golden liquid, sustenance is required. And in keeping with Barbadian tradition, a food tour exploring typical Bajan specialties is called for. First stop was — well not food. Before, and during, our ingesting of island edibles (in this day and age, is it necessary to emphasize that, in this context, that refers to actual food?), 400 years of Bridgetown history must also be digested. The conquest by the British, the thriving slave trade along the Careenage, the UNESCO World Heritage site House of Parliament, the oldest Synagogue in the Americas and, of course, Roebeck Street where Mr. Rumball first transformed the world’s devotion to rum. But let’s get to the important stuff: Black Cake.

Paulette, our guide, led us on an enthusiastic journey, warning us that upon completion, they may have to roll us back to the bus. With an emphasis on spices, seasonings and sugar, we stopped first at “Crumbz,” because, according to Paulette, after eating Bajan food, that’s all that’s left. After a minced beef roll, coconut bread and the Caribbean’s famous rum Christmas specialty, Black Cake, about which a NY Times bestselling book has recently been written. I could have gone home sufficiently satiated.

Next onto a “hole in the wall” restaurant, the kind locals frequent, for chicken, macaroni pie, and casava. It was a full meal masquerading as a mid-day snack. Observed Paulette: “We need to have such a heavy diet to weather all the rum that’s drunk.”

At the thought of fish cakes yet to come, my stomach started to rebel. Until I tasted them. Okay, so apparently, I wasn’t done.

At the food market (go figure!), we sampled locally grown fruits and juices before moving on to another mini-meal of fish, peas and rice and more root vegetables. As delicious as everything was, I wasn’t disappointed to hear that we only had one stop left. For the first time since I had arrived in Barbados, I wasn’t thinking about where I wanted to go for dinner!

But tourists cannot live by food and drink alone. A little island culture is also required, offered by many tours. But do not even think about taking THIS tour after eating and drinking. That would be the Island Safari tour, part sightseeing, part adrenaline rush. As we got into the open-air van, our driver/guide Wayne casually mentioned we should be prepared for a bumpy ride, mud and water. Truer words were never spoken.

Yes, lots of history, horticulture (the only thing Wayne loves more than mud are trees), culture, tradition, legends punctuated by panoramic views of the island. Then he casually mentioned that we might go off-road a bit.

A mile of hair-raising, terrifying, mud-driven insanity just for the sake of adventure. Then on to more sight-seeing. But by the time my various organs returned to their normal locations in my body, we were off again. Wayne delighted in leaving the rough, pot-holed, winding supposedly paved roads to take rough, pot-holed winding muddy dirt paths that cut through sugar cane fields. His usual patter rescinded as did any attempt of mine to take notes. Hard to do when you’re holding on for dear life. Incredibly harrowing — but oh so much fun. Not for the faint of heart or body, however.

My favorite stop among many was an array of colorful carved animals sculpted into a mountainside along the road. A life-size giraffe, elephant, baboon, rhino, hippo, zebra — certainly legitimized the safari part of the tour name.

There are signs everywhere admonishing you not to sit or park under coconut trees. Now that’s something you pay attention to. But if you still crave the milky white liquid, there are numerous roadside stands — often tended to by men with machetes — offering juice without any threat to bodily injury (despite the machetes….).

Did I mention Wayne’s jovial discourse? A sample of Wayne humor: Royal Palm trees which reach higher in the sky than their less mighty cousins but lack their coconut bounty are a symbol of wealth. “Just like a politician,” remarked Wayne, “they stand high above you and do nothing.” Bada boom.

So much to see and do, and with a 2-1 ratio of Barbadan dollar to that of the U.S. — and very reasonable prices throughout the island — you can actually afford to do almost all. And yes, there are also beaches — lots of beautiful sand beaches. If you’re into that sort of thing….

For more information, visit mountgayrum.com, islandsafari.bb and lickrishfoodtours.com.

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Is there anyone who doesn’t know you don’t put Baby in a corner? Or who doesn’t automatically hum along to “The Time of my Life”? Imagine revisiting “Dirty Dancing” at its original locale – and visiting the site where Baby and Johnny practiced “the lift” – possibly the most famous dance routine ending ever? Welcome to Mountain Lake Lodge in Pembroke, Virginia channeling the Catskills hotel — AKA the Kellerman’s Resort.

In case you’re one of the few who is unfamiliar with the cult classic, go stream it now. Right now. I’ll wait for you. Because this is just an adventure that is too much fun to miss out on! And that includes the sound track that seems to embed in the ear – from “Hungry Eyes”to “Big Girls Don’t Cry,” “Will You Love Me Tomorrow” to the indelible “Time of My Life.”

Yes, you can go on a theme weekend and experience the movie from start to finish including dance lessons, trivia contests, costume parties, scavenger hunts and multiple viewings of the film. The lodge looms as large in real life as it does in the movie, and the resort itself promotes an immersive connection to the film. Having viewed the movie once again before arriving, we looked for many of the film’s key locales and couldn’t help but feel an immediate attachment not usually associated with other hotel visits.

Signs everywhere designate important locations – the gazebo where Penny gave dance lessons; Baby’s cabin where the Houseman family resided; the lake where Johnny and Baby practiced “the lift.” Dirty Dancing permeates the grounds – and once the guests arrive — seniors, couples, mothers, daughters, sisters, girlfriends on a weekend getaway — many in a variety of Dirty Dancing t-shirts — electricity abounds. Apparently, no age group is immune to the long-term appeal of the film.

Now I’ve seen the movie a couple of times but am anything but a devotee so I was unfamiliar with all the references I saw to “I carried a watermelon.” Apparently, this was the first thing Baby said to Johnny and immediately berated herself for it. The meme was everywhere.

Want to rent Baby’s cabin? No problem. Just start a year or more in advance. But try to leave everything in place. The hotel manager told me that guests kept stealing the plaque denoting Room 232 in the main lodge, the one Patrick Swayze stayed in during filming. Other lodging options include cottages dating back to the 1920’s.

First night – costume and dance party. Lots of Babys of course, a bunch of Pennys, a few Lisas (Baby’s sister), a couple of villain Vivians and you guessed it, a number of watermelons. And a surprisingly number of Johnnys of all ages – none of them exactly channeling Patrick Swayze but several sporting some impressive dance moves. He would have been proud! And all are so immersed in their individual characters. Are you with me yet?

Rita Lockton from North Dakota is celebrating her 20th anniversary. “When I was a kid my folks told me it was an R-rated film so my cousins and I snuck around to watch it all the time. I’ve been fascinated by it ever since and have always wanted to come here. I’m so excited and I haven’t even experienced anything yet!” Lots of revelers shared that sentiment.

Next day there’s a trivia contest, of course. An auditorium packed with Dirty Dancing aficionados. A round of 50 very detailed questions requiring an encyclopedic knowledge of the film, with the soundtrack playing in the background. The license plate number of Johnny’s car as he drove off? Seriously? Most of these folk had probably seen the film dozens of times but the plate number must have been there two seconds max. Still, easy peasy. I guessed at maybe five or six correctly. The winning couple correctly answered almost all.

Then the scavenger hunt took the 200 DD devotees all around the resort clicking pictures to prove their righteous reconnaissance. And off to the Kellerman Gift Shop to claim their prizes, a store devoted to all things Baby and Johnny related, from clothing and posters to gifts and books, both written by and about the protagonists. If it has anything to do with the movie, it’s there. And as a change of pace after scavenging, what more appropriate option than some salsa and meringue lessons from a modern-day Penny.

But before I left, I slipped in for one more replaying of the movie and practically shouted throughout: “There’s a trivia answer; there’s a trivia answer….” There was a noticeable gasp as everyone in the theater particularly noted Johnny’s license plate number.

For those of you who don’t care whether Baby is put into a corner, there are all kinds of activities that any normal resort might offer readily available to guests whether on a theme weekend or not: miles of hiking trails, ropes course and zip lines; ATV tours, clay shooting, escape rooms, bubble balls, arts studio and more. But, thankfully, you’re never that far away from a new Dirty Dancing discovery – all while having The Time of your Life! For more information, visit mtnlakelodge.com.

P.S. “Dirty Dancing 2” is in the works, produced by and starring Jennifer Grey – no doubt held up by the actors’ strike. To be filmed, of course, at Kellerman’s! Stay tuned – and get ready to watch this time!

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