Case in point: yesterday as we traveled up the Interstate, one of us needed a restroom, so we began watching for a likely exit. My wife said to get off at the next one, an exit that did not look promising to me at all. After exiting and turning right, only to find nothing, we went back under the Interstate and found a dubious convenience store attached to a family restaurant. As I waited for my bride to come out, and kinda looked forward to the "bad" restroom comment, I looked to the south and noticed a large, well kept, area with a funeral procession turning into the gates.
Looking north I noticed a sign with the name Indiantown Gap on it. That name rang a bell. I believed that it was one of the primary places in the US where the government processed refugees from Vietnam after that Asian war ended in 1975. Did this fact and the funeral have anything in common?
In short, NO, but it cause me to turn in that same gate as we went south to get back on the freeway. The sign on the gate: Indiantown Gap National Cemetery. I wondered out loud as to why the government would put a National Cemetery way out here in the boonies? The only ones I knew were in urban areas, like the one in Chattanooga.
Regardless, the area was so well kept, green with American flags lining the drive into the burial areas, that we kept right on going. It seemed there were no veterans buried there. The placed looked empty. We later learned on walking some pathways that all the marker were flush with the ground. No rows of crosses like those in Chattanooga, or Normandy either for that matter, but there were over 40,000 service men and women, some with spouses, that were interred in that Pennsylvania cemetery.
But back to the unplanned experience that we were about to have. We could have never planned it. We did not know this place existed.
As we walked some of the grounds, I spotted a large bird landing on the ground across the road from our car. As I moved toward it, camera in hand, he (or she) flew off on to the top of one of the flag poles lines the roadway. I took a quick shot, from that distance. It might be my only chance, and I could always blow it up on the computer to see what I had. Then the bird flew away.
We talked about the treat it was to see a large bird like that so close. As I walked with my camera toward a small building, I looked up and there it was again, on top of the roof, and then it flew. I followed its direction and there it was on the ground. As I took a couple more, it flew toward me, landing on a flagpole once again.
Then down in the brush, poking for something.
Then off down the road.
As we loaded back up in the car, I told Mayre that I thought I might stop in the office at the top of the hill and find out about that bird. From its color I thought it might be a golden eagle.
Stepping into the welcome area, I asked the man behind the desk about the cemetery and then told him about our bird watching. He explained to me all about the cemetery, why it was there, how many folks were buried there, and more questions that I thought to ask while I had his undivided attention.
What a treat. My mood had taken a rapid turn from frustration to pleasure as those morning events happened one after the other.
As I mentally wiped the egg off my face, I realized that I was so in the wrong with my attitude about the restroom stop. It had turned into a most unexpected pleasure.
The beautiful spot…
The taloned predator…
The information session with the man in the office…
You just never know what is there at that exit you don't want to take.
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