Monthly Archives: January 2014

Disneyworld vs. Weeki Wachee

WeekiWacheeSo much of how we enjoy an experience is predicated on our expectations. One of the first things we did when Dave and I arrived for our two-month stay in central Florida was head for Disneyworld.  The American Express card whimpered a little when we dumped nearly $200 each on it for two-day passes. I arched an eyebrow as the gate attendant ever so perkily asked me to place my index finger on a scanner so they could gather my fingerprint (To prevent me from sharing my access card.)

There’s still a lot of magic in the Magic Kingdom, and we loved the new “retro-future” look of Tomorrowland, as well as the newish Monsters, Inc. Laugh Floor there, where you can text in a joke and if it’s good enough an animated monster will deliver it to the crowd. We stood in back with big grins on our faces at the Enchanted Tales with Belle attraction in Fantasyland, where an animated Lumiere and a lovely young lady portraying Belle, did indeed enchant every child in the room. The Hall of Presidents is still a rousing romp through American history made even more entertaining by an extraordinary a cappella group that performed before the show.

Epcot isn’t aging so well though. It’s tough to stay ahead of the future. The animatronics used in many of the rides are so last century. Many attractions feature nicely produced films, but the projection quality was often poor by today’s standards.  And several of the rides we were on broke down, albeit briefly.

“Was it worth it?” we wondered aloud at the end of our visit. Just barely, we concluded. There remains a lot to love about Disneyworld, but when you’re paying nearly a $100 a day you expect a flawless experience.

Mermaids train for up to a year for these performances, often accompanied by the original inhabitants of the springs.

Mermaids train for up to a year for these performances, often accompanied by the original inhabitants of the springs.

Flash forward to a warm and sunny Florida day last weekend, just down the road at the Weeki Wachee Springs State Park. In 2008 the state took over operation of the venerable Florida attraction, which staged its first underwater mermaid show in 1947.

I was expecting the equivalent of a dog-eared vintage postcard: A sweet but faded glimpse into a colorful past.

Merman

Dave agrees to yet another of my silly photo op requests.

What we found was a beautifully maintained state park, where we first boarded a pontoon boat for a float down the crystal clear Weeki Wachee River (fed by the 112 million gallons the springs pump out every day). Our half-hour journey took us past a manatee mama and her calf, a gigantic eagle’s nest, a deer wading near the shore, an alligator and several kayakers.

On the other side of the park you can swim in the spring where the water is a constant 74 degrees. We waded in, wishing we’d brought our suits on that 80 degree afternoon.

But we were really here for the mermaid show.  And what a show it was. The underwater ballerinas that perform here, slender air hoses in hand,  train for up to a year. They can hold their breath for two and a half minutes. (Try it.) For half an hour they dived, and twirled, and blew bubbles—to the delight of young and old alike.

MoldmachineBut the fun was not quite over.  For $2 we watched our mermaid souvenir being injection molded before our very eyes, delivering the result into our hands still warm. A delightful afternoon indeed.  All for $13 each.

Phil Robertson and Me

Phil back in his college days..apparently .conforming to a different set of expectations.

Phil back in his college days—apparently .conforming to a different set of expectations.

Phil and I are about the same age. He’s just a couple years older than I am.  But during the course of each of our stays on this planet, we’ve reached very different conclusions about God’s intent for our lives—if what he’s reported to have said turns out to be his true belief.

I spent half my career in television. So I’m well aware that there’s nothing real about reality TV.  And I was already disturbed by how hugely popular these shows are—where (with a few exceptions) producers goad already marginal human beings into really creepy behavior. The corporate sociopath in New York I reported to at one of the television stations where I worked, once told me, “You never lose money by underestimating the intelligence of the American public.”

I hate admitting he may be right.

But Duck Dynasty seemed the rare exception. I watched it once at my brother’s house. The family portrayed on the show appeared to genuinely love each other. And didn’t scream obscenities are each other. Then Phil opened his mouth without an editor at the ready to mold him back into a lovable patriarch.

But it’s not really the coarse, idiotic stuff that reportedly came out of Phil’s mouth on multiple occasions that most bothers me. BIgots will always be with us. I struggle instead, with millions of people flocking to the defense of someone who said something hateful. Is it really about free speech? Did those same folks rush to defend the free speech rights of the Dixie Chicks over their comments about President Bush?

Phil is certainly not the first to cherry pick the bible in support of bigotry. We spent the month of November in Augusta, Georgia—which also happens to be where Woodrow Wilson spent much of his childhood. The home the future president lived in it now a museum, and on our tour we learned that Wilson’s father was the pastor of the Presbyterian church in Augusta. And an ardent supporter of the Confederacy. He regularly used his sermons to reassure his congregation that slavery was in full compliance with biblical teaching.

I’m one of those who thinks Phil should be able to say what he wants. But I also think what he said should have evoked a universal collective gasp from society.  Why didn’t it?

Louisiana’s Lieutenant Governeur Jay Dardenne issued a statement supporting Robertson (after all, he’s head of Louisiana’s tourism effort and Duck Dynasty has been huge boon to that industry.) But while he carefully distanced himself from what Phil had a say about happy black folk back in the good ole days—the same was not true for his comments on gay folk.

Jay wants to be Louisiana’s next governor.  And I actually think he’d be a good one. But you don’t get elected governor of Louisiana by supporting equal rights for gay people. Why might that be?

I think I figured out why some years ago when I taught a class in interpersonal communication at a community college. In the midst of a discussion on “finding common ground,” one of my students raised his hand.

“Conservatives don’t believe in that,” he said. “When you’re right, why would you change your position?”

I was speechless. How could anyone be that certain they’re always right?

And therein lies the root of the problem here.

There is a principle in communications studies called “uncertainty reduction theory.”

The theory posits that we all wired to be uncomfortable with uncertainty. It’s meant to apply to personal relationships, but I see it in a broader context.

In the old days the most effective method of reducing uncertainty was to acquire new information. But now in the internet age, that paradigm has completely shifted.

Today we’re overwhelmed with information, much of it in direct conflict.  So how do we reduce uncertainty in this environment?

By adopting a narrower view of the world.

I admit I’m a bit jealous of that student and others who’ve managed to make life seem simpler with this strategy. (I came to like and respect this man as the semester progressed. He had an autistic son and a number of other life challenges that threatened to overwhelm him. He once told me how dismayed he was because he couldn’t sort out what to believe.)  I live in a world of grays…and can fully understand how comforting it would be to let Fox News (or MSNBC) tell you what to believe politically. Or to let Pastor Wilson interpret the bible for you.

We’re uncomfortable with what we don’t understand. So we flock to the comfort of the herd’s mentality.  And the whole “gay thing” can be pretty scary. I know it was for me.

I was terrified. Terrified that if I came out, I would be abandoned. Alone.

Today gay teenagers commit suicide at a rate three times higher than other teens. I was long past my teenage years when I came out—and I too would have committed suicide, had it not been for the intervention of some amazing people who love me unconditionally—and from the God of my understanding. Who also loves me unconditionally.

That’s why this fear and ignorance has to stop—now—with our generation. Phil’s and mine.

The Cracker Barrel Confession

DavePuzzleForgive me Father for I have sinned…

Dave and I ate breakfast at Cracker Barrel this morning.  And despite this restaurant chain’s questionable social justice record, I enjoyed my pecan sticky bun French toast every bit as much as Dave enjoyed playing the Golf Tee Game.

I still occasionally give in to a craving for Cracker Barrel even though I haven’t eaten at a Chick-Fil-A since the anti-gay tweets from its faux Christian founder came to light.  After all, who could resist this wide-eyed unicorn in the Cracker Barrel gift shop?Unicorn

 

A BRIEF ASIDE:

Quick multiple choice quiz Dan Cathy:  WWJD?  If Jesus had millions of dollars to give away would he:

A:  Give those dollars to organizations working to keep gay people from marrying the person they love?

B:  Use them to help the sick and the poor?

The confession doesn’t stop there I’m afraid. I also bought Christmas ornaments at Hobby Lobby.  And we regularly go to Walmart. (Every Walmart has an RV section—very handy when you run out of the special toilet paper.)

But while I can’t promise to let go of these bad habits cold turkey, one of my New Year’s resolutions is to step up my efforts to support local businesses and those that pay their employees a fair wage, as well as those businesses who embrace diversity. Those that really do understand the meaning of the question: WWJD?