My family just returned from an all-too-brief overnight trip to St. Augustine, that charming if slightly down-at-the-heels relic south of Jacksonville. We had a wonderful time of it, traipsing around the 300-year-old fort, grabbing lunch at the Milltop Tavern on touristy St. George Street, and setting up camp at a Hampton Inn on nearby Vilano Beach. It turned out to be a spectacular afternoon for splashing around in the surf, and the kids couldn't get enough of the sun and sand.
After a restless night of walloping wind and rain (not an issue for the kids, who could sleep through an A-bomb), we set out on another tour of historic sites before heading home. We stopped by the town's candy-striped lighthouse and even took a gander at a 600-year-old live oak, the celebrated "Old Senator," which stands right smack in the middle of a Howard Johnson's parking lot. Fun was had by all, although something tells me my little ones won't remember the haunting old tree like they will building sand castles or running around the playground near our hotel.
Spending time in St. Augustine holds special meaning for Guitar Dad. When I lived in Jacksonville from 1993 to 1995, I often drove down for the day with friends, enjoying the town's thriving music and restaurant scenes, and of course digging its cool waterfront setting and ideal beach access.
In a moment of reflection, as I maneuvered our mini-van through the congested downtown streets, I mentioned how much I used to enjoy hitting the bars on St. George Street, tipping cold beers and occasionally treating myself to a good cigar. My son quickly replied, "Why don't you not do those things and just have fun." Good point, little guy. And I'm proud to say we accomplished just that, indulging in a pleasurable and completely family-friendly outing, one that was brief for sure, but one that I wouldn't trade for all those excursions of yesteryear combined.
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