Keys Disease

In the Florida Keys, the expression "Keys Disease" is a description of the phenomenon that overtakes people down here, where they lose all motivation and spend their time fishing and drinking. I think work does get done, to support those aforementioned habits. I also think, that there is a certain type of person who wants to escape whatever in their life they don't like and where better than the most southern part of the U.S. You just cannot imagine the saturation of characters and oddballs down here. For example, I have never gone to a grocery store in this country where I would say "Hi" to someone with a grey ponytail down to his waist and no shoes. When I looked down at his feet, he said "darn, I forgot my shoes at the bowling alley." The "no shoes, no shirt, no service" doesn't apply here. Harry calls a clean t-shirt and shorts a tuxedo.

So when I picked up today's local newspaper tossed onto our driveway, the front page story that caught my eye made my laugh until I had tears. The headline reads "Keys band drives man to steal freight train." The story is about a 23 year old train enthusiast who snuck into an empty train in Miami, started the engine and drove the train 7 miles south to pull up on the tracks behind the Redland Tavern where his favorite Keys band was playing. When he entered the bar, he announced he had just arrived by train. For those of my readers in the know - he went to see a group called Big Dick and the Extenders. Need I say more? Megan and Matt have seen this charming band perform numerous times and apparently, they are quite talented but their forte is to insult members of the audience between takes. I have been afraid to go myself. I have a feeling Big Dick would have a field day with a middle aged, bleached blond who blushes.

If that story weren't good enough, when I opened the paper to page two, I learned that the Rock Python is the latest threat to south Florida. So far, three of the behemoths have been found in the Everglades and they can reach 20 ft. and 200#. This comes on the tail (no pun intended) of the nuisance Burmese Python which has actually migrated to the Keys. We have trained "Python Patrols" so I feel much more relaxed when I am weeding the tropical jungle that is my front landscape bed. After all, the Burmese Python only eats things like small alligators, so I don't have to worry.

My Mother's Kitchen

I had a wonderful dream last night, full of memory and detail. I was cleaning up my childhood home, preparing it for someone who rented it for 24 hours. I know this dream blends my present life because we have a vacation rental house here in the Keys that I manage and recently I checked out the kitchen to make sure it was adequately equipped during a week with no rental. But when I dream of homes, most often I am not in a house that I have occupied since adulthood, but back in my childhood home. Maybe that is because I have lived in so many homes since graduating college, that I haven't been able to form a real attachment to any.

I grew up in a post WWII development, called Kirkmere. My parents built a home in Poland, Ohio but saw this new development, near the city of Youngstown's wonderful WPA enhanced metropolitan park called Mill Creek, and for some reason decided to build there before moving in to the other home. The story has it, that my mother stuck her finger down on the plot map without looking and selected our lot, which was right across from the park and a sensational place to grow up. As children, we were free to roam and hike and play all day without supervision in miles and miles of nature with streams, waterfalls, lakes, glacial outcrops, nature trails, playgrounds, etc. Growing up in the 50's was not bad! I do not remember being anxious about strangers, perverts, pedophiles, kidnappers or the like - although there were a few strange incidents like the ski mask wearing marauder who jumped out when my sister and I were playing golf at the course in Mill Creek - wearing nothing else, or the man who used to expose himself to kids but always so far away out of our vision we thought he was playing with his car keys so it really didn't induce much trauma except to our mothers.

The house itself was not big by today's standards. There were six of us in a three bedroom, one bath home, with an extra toilet and creepy shower in the basement. It was the norm among my friends, and maybe even bigger than many in my circle.

But the dream that I had was about the kitchen. In my dream I was trying to make the kitchen look nice for the incoming renters. I think my entire adult life I have been compensating my own kitchen for what my mother's lacked. There were several things that drove me crazy as I got older. The drawer full of mismatched silver and stainless flatware was one. It was hard to set the little kitchen table we crowded around for nightly dinners (company and Sunday was in the dining room) and have a matching setting. And the dishes were the same. There was a collection of dishes and even later, when we grew up and gave my parents dishes, somehow others who didn't match found their way into that cupboard to present themselves when opened. Dining room dishes and flatware were different than everyday. They matched and looked presentable. But the kitchen was a mess of plastic, china, melamine and corning ware. I even remember a set of aluminum glasses in awesome colors but drinking from them was a strange experience of first tasting metal, than your beverage. And lastly, there was never a pen, or piece of paper handy if you needed to write a note. You would search high and low for any little scrap. I have made it my mission to always have a huge supply of pads of paper and more pens than I can use up in the rest of my lifetime to never have the stress of searching for something to write on or with. And, I will never (well, as long as I have cognitive skills left) have unmatched dishes or utensils. In fact, I have become a crusader for the cause and own more dishes than I have friends and family. I could host a neighborhood buffet.

I realize that my parents raised and sent four children to college on an average income. We always had a yearly vacation. We were dressed adequately. I don't remember feeling deprived. But for some reason, the lasting memory of the kitchen is one that has permeated my memory and dreams. In fact, I can still see into that silverware drawer, with a red plastic organizer and see the mess that greeted me.

The Eyes Have It

I know what "stink eye", "eyeing someone", the "evil eye", the Italian "malocchio", and "eyeballing" are. But, what do you call someone who has one eye focused on you and the other looking yonder? For some reason, I have met four people in the past two weeks with this condition and it has me unnerved! I just cannot figure out where to look when I talk to them. When I look at one eye, the other moves and I have to shift my look to that one. To the other person, I must look like I am watching a tennis match. Looking someone in the eye can be, at times challenging when both eyes focus forward. I never understood why, but there are some people who I find hard to look at when talking. I cannot get comfortable with which eye to look at so have to sort of dart back and forth. But this latest dilemma has reminded me of that character in Monty Python movies and I feel like I might get motion sickness trying to be polite.