The astronauts had their Tranquility Base on the Moon’s Mare Tranquillitatis. They wouldn’t share so I had to find one for myself. It is Buzzard’s Roost in Tennessee’s Fall Creek Falls State Park. And no, it wasn’t named for me.

Once again it’s time to veg out and gain some more weight. How else will I justify a new wardrobe?

I’m off in the morning for the annual nine days at the park. At more than 25,000 acres it is easily the state’s largest. It sits up on the Cumberland Plateau. That’s usually good for 5-8 degrees of relief from the Summer’s heat. I think that, being at a higher elevation, it is slightly further from Hades.

I know it sounds as though I will be enjoying a quite, peaceful, bucolic week staring at sunsets and shooing away hordes of Whitetail deer. If you were wondering, I have no intention of getting up in time to see any sunrises. I’m trying to take a temporary break from my alarm clock, which is otherwise set at 4:50 a.m. every morning.

All of that nonsense about peace and quiet doesn’t account for the fact that this is the annual reunion of my mother-in-law’s family. It rarely attracts more than 75 people. For the week I will respond to anyone calling out for Mr. Sheila.

But, what really disrupts the quietude is the July Fourth Parade. This is a tradition in the park of long standing. The parade is led by an antique fire engine. This may account for the direction in which the festivities have developed over the years. A world-class water fight.

I’m certain that at some point someone was the victim of a small toy water pistol. Waiting a year for revenge it would be natural if the original perpetrator experienced an escalated level of return fire.

The park has an inn, cabins and campsites, for both tents and more expensive quarters. As the parade, composed of those from the inn, cabins and those there for just the day, weaves its way through all of the camping sites, it becomes a non-lethal approximation of World War III.

The campers have the advantage of hoses hooked up to a scattering of faucets. The parade has a number of pickup trucks. In the beds of some of these vehicles are 55-gallon drums fitted with high-powered pumps and sprayers. Even the conscientious objectors need their own super soaker. I have no idea where these come from but they have begun showing up every year, without fail.

I fully intend to write one or two posts while there. Lassitude or revenge may be the motivating factor. Events will decide.