A Sad Day to Be a Bear

We awoke this morning with visions of teddy bears dancing in our heads and drove west across Florida's "Alligator Alley," humming the tune of "Teddy Bear's Picnic": We were on our way to the Teddy Bear Museum of Naples. What we thought would be a fun, lighthearted stop with which to begin our day turned out instead to be a sad one.

When we arrived, beyond the stone bears standing guard outside, we were greeted by a "closed" sign. According to our handy, dandy AAA guidebook, the museum should have been open on a Wednesday morning at 11:30. Scenes from National Lampoon's Vacation flashed before Kala's eyes as Andy went to investigate the matter. He knocked at the door and was greeted by a very nice lady, who informed him that the museum had closed its doors for good after fifteen years of bringing immeasurable joy to its visitors. Andy effortlessly charmed her into allowing the bears one last visit.

Although we were saddened by the closing of the museum, we couldn't help but smile as the bears' happy, furry faces peered out at us from their shelves and cases. There were old bears, new bears, tiny bears, and great big bears, some even taller than us! Some were traditional, and some were rather unconventional, like the "Teenage Mutant Ninja Bears." Many of the bears were arranged in detailed dioramas of various sizes, including a charming mountain cabin large enough for us to enter.

We thanked the nice lady and wished her luck in whatever she does next before making our exit. The museum collection is being liquidated, and we sure do hope that all of those sweet bears go to nice homes where they will be loved and appreciated as much as they have been in this little museum that is no more.

Our next stop was in St. Petersburg, at the Salvador Dalí Museum. In the current exhibit, which features the surrealist master's treatments of the themes of "Land, Myth, Perception, and God," we viewed works both known and unfamiliar to us, but all in the artist's signature style.

There was a special section of the exhibit dedicated to Dalí's drawings of Don Quixote de la Mancha. The piece entitled "Attack on the Windmills" was one of Kala's favorites in the collection. This abstract representation of Cervantes's "Knight of Woeful Countenance," accompanied by his sidekick, Sancho Panza, attacking a windmill he perceives as a giant truly captures the delirious gallantry of its subject.

On our way north along Florida's Gulf Coast, we passed through many small towns with such unlikely names as Weeki Wachee, Withlacoochee, and Homosassa. We briefly considered stopping at the Withlacoochee Inn and asking if we could get a room "without la coochee," but quickly abandoned that idea. It was just outside of Homosassa that we happened upon Bubbles the manatee. It was a good thing, too, because it had been a few days since we had seen any good giant stuff to photograph, and we'd been starting to experience symptoms of withdrawal.

We are stopped for the night in Perry, not far from the state capital of Tallahassee. After calling Craig to wish him a happy birthday and Grandma to assure her that we had arrived safely and have indeed eaten, we are ready to call it a night.