We were just in Naples for a week, out we were out and around several times practically every day. I made it a point to wear nothing but Christogenea t-shirts for the entire trip. I got a few sneers and only one positive remark.
On Tuesday morning there was a girl of perhaps 10 or 11 on a pier at downtown Naples who looked at my Christogenea shirt and sneered. I was looking at her face. Her sneer was like an involuntary reaction. I looked at her parents, and sure enough I was certain that they were winter residents from the Hamptons, or maybe from Borough Park. (Sorry, Staro...LOL)
Wednesday evening Martin and I went to a Bible Study at the First Baptist Church in Naples. I plan to write about that. I wore a grey shirt that had the "crosstika" design on it, which is what we call the cross in the circles with the swastika at the center. I spoke to a few people, and did not get one inquiry about the shirt, which was literally right in front of their faces, LOL. I will write about the Bible Study as soon as I get the opportunity. (No, I didn't get into a fight. One man, who was in the military, got a little flustered with me although he was polite when we parted.)
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We were in a Barnes and Noble bookstore in Naples on Thursday morning and decided to get a cup of coffee. There was a jew in a business suit and a yarmulke typing away on a laptop, two tables from where we were sitting. He must have heard something we had said. When he turned and saw my shirt, he stared for a second. Melissa made it a point at that moment to reach over and touch my chest. The Jew then started looking around nervously, abruptly packed his things and left.
Sunday afternoon we went to a place called Stan's in Goodland FL that is sort of like several bars and a few food tents in one huge complex with a band outdoors playing mostly southern rock and a little country pop. There must have been a thousand people there, all drinking beer and acting like teenagers. Melissa overheard a man telling his wife something like "look at him, he's got a swastika wrapped around a cross on his shirt". Melissa motioned to me and a few seconds later the woman turned around and looked at me, making like she was not looking at me. This was a white couple, around my age. We would classify them as "rednecks". We purposely hung out next to them for perhaps as long as fifteen minutes, they knew we were there, but they never asked why I had such a symbol on my shirt. Typical of White Americans, they cared more about their beer.