SUNRIVER, Ore. - Say you are a large group of vacation-seekers. Your ages span from toddler to senior. Your interests range from walking to golfing to biking to reading to sitting on a patio fringed with pine trees and enjoying a nice glass of pinot noir.
Philip Bialowitz, a Holocaust survivor, pulled his black rolling suitcase through the airport terminal. He had arrived in St. Louis on an early-morning flight from Florida. He wore a black winter jacket, purple tie, tan fedora. Getting around is not so easy for him anymore. He is 84. He knows his time is getting shorter. Two weeks ago, his brother Symca Bialowitz died. Together they had survived the same Nazi death camp in modern-day Poland where an estimated 250,000 people were killed.
FAYETTEVILLE, W. Va. - My first on-land visit to historic Kaymoor was before trails existed.
The announcer, mounted on a horse named Gus, said "go," and dozens of young boys and girls ran across the rodeo arena, in pursuit of a calf and the red ribbon on his tail. The first child to get a piece of the ribbon would win a prize. A giggling wedge of children turned and came running back, the now ribbon-less calf loping behind them.
BAYFIELD, Wis. - Erno Hettinger stood atop a vast, frozen field of Lake Superior ice, hunched his back against whipping wind and gazed at the fantastic walls of icicles hanging from sandstone cliffs.
In the tiny, ramshackle Waikane Store, on Oahu's east shore, a cheerful woman in an old-fashioned hair net offered up Hawaiian-style sushi. And that means Spam.
Every few songs it would happen: The ukulele launched into a furious strum, the bass began to gallop, the guitar jangled to life, and the three powerful voices behind those instruments erupted into a harmonious whirl. Then someone danced.