“How will we know it’s us without our past?”—John Steinbeck, The Grapes of Wrath AS I TYPE THIS LETTER, I’m hearing the soft stew of the Delta Air Lines Sky Club playlist, periodic flight update announcements, the PSA of the Atlanta mayor urging us to play our part in the fight against human trafficking, and the low hum of human conversation. This is the soundtrack of my travel life. I’m not complaining. I’m cataloguing and rejoicing, for it signals I’m going someplace wonderful or am returning home from someplace wonderful. Both are good.
As it happens, I’ve just had the pleasure of visiting, for the first time, St. Petersburg, Florida, where I attended the glorious Art in Bloom at the Museum of Fine Arts (MFA). But really the whole trip…