BY MICHELE MILLER
What’s What New Port Richey
“Where are you from?”
“New Port Richey.”
“Where’s that?”
‘No Place Really.”
“Ha, ha.”
For years that was the was a go-to laugh line for the youngest and only kid in the family who could claim Florida native status. She was born up the road a bit, a later-life child with an independent streak and a blooming wanderlust that whisked her away from us when she was on the edge of eighteen.
First stop was university where she held a part-time job at an Orlando theme park that added insult to injury by misspelling the name of her hometown on her uniform nametag.
‘New Port Richie.’
Could have been worse, I gather, while reflecting on the numerous cards and letters I’ve gotten over the years addressed to ‘Newport Richie.’
As it happens, the youngest moved home for a bit, staying long enough to save up enough money to trek on off to Nashville where seasons change, mountains and waterfalls are a car ride away and well, there’s the music.
And it’s any place but here.
To be sure, Music City has a special lure to a whole lot of twenty and thirty-somethings who have descended in droves in recent years. Many have left, it seems. Some have gone back home because it’s a little hard to make it in a tourist town with Covid keeping folks away.
That’s just the half of it.
If you’re clued in, you might know that the people of Nashville have been having one heck of a time. Along with the pandemic, there’s been a devastating tornado, a Christmas morning bombing, ice storms and a recent flash flood that hit its height during my daughter’s harrowing commute home from work.
Try staying calm through that call when the GPS tracker on your daughter’s phone shows her to be way off route and twitter is afire with up-to-the-minute reports of sinking cars, flooded houses and people clinging to trees – in her neighborhood.
‘Here’ has its nuances, one discovers, when you need a break from all that. Home is where the heart is for sure, and it’s a place to fall back on.
Come home for a spell, we told her, and rest your weary head.
Or not.
There’s a lot of stuff to do here and a little bit beyond the borders of New Port Richey which happens to be centrally located for a fun time. A ton to cram in, in fact, in a three-day break that turned out to be more of a whirlwind than respite.
From our New Port Richey hub we trekked to two state parks – starting off with a day at the beach at Honeymoon Island State Park in Dunedin and savoring a morning float a couple of days later, down the cool, clear water at Weeki Wachee Springs State Park. (Note: The Florida State Park pass is well worth the price if you’re a frequent visitor.)
We snacked on ice-cream (rum-raisin with Jimmies aka sprinkles, for me) at Hudson Beach Ice-cream Parlor on the way home before remembering about the shaved snow at Vampire Penguin that’s been put on a list as a ‘next time’ treat.
Promise.
We picked blueberries at Starkey Blueberry Farm that were later folded into a batch of homemade breakfast muffins using the original Jordan Marsh recipe that New England folks might be familiar with. Later on we took in the Van Gogh Alive exhibit at the Salvador Dali Museum in St. Petersburg.
On her last day we enjoyed a back porch spread of afternoon tea to-go from White Heron Tea and Gifts. Then we capped off her visit by raising a glass of red at the outdoor dining deck at Sip on Grand where theatre director, Melissa Smith, stopped by with a poster for the opening of You’re a Good Man Charlie Brown at the Richey Suncoast Theatre.
We sat back chatted about the new businesses that have opened recently in the city and beyond – breweries, restaurants, bakeries, a downtown butcher, and an art gallery – with even more new businesses cropping up. We bantered about which was more annoying – the 50-something gent blasting music on his motorcycle down Grand Boulevard (do we all need to hear?) , or the drunken bridal parties pedal taverning their way through traffic in downtown Nashville.
“It’s good to see so much going on here,” the kid said, while diving into “The Pope”, a light carb charcuterie board that was right up our alley.
“And I’ve got to find a place like this when I get back to Nashville.”
Turns out it is some place – really.
.
