Banana Bay Break-in

After writing my blog about fathers, I tossed and turned trying to get to sleep. How can one adequately describe someone in a few paragraphs. I kept thinking of things I should have added. My memories were flowing and my brain was on hyper drive. I was a little low, missing my folks. But, when I arrived to work at the Sea Dell this morning, I found this flyer taped to the front desk and my spirits were lifted. Perhaps you have to live here to know how annoying iguanas are to appreciate this. People hate them! They poop on your boat or in your pool and they eat every plant they encounter. They are perhaps the ugliest and scariest looking creature on earth. And, despite their shortcomings, someone loved two of them enough to post a $2000 reward. In fact, the owners have been on a search and rescue mission and even came by today to see if our 20 year old employee, Laz, might have the underground scoop on the crime because he is young and connected to the local youth scene. I called Laz and he said he was adding PI work to his resume and he was out on the case already. For $2000, I may go scouting the neighborhood. But why would someone take them?? In Central and South American countries, as I have mentioned before, they are a tasty dinner treat. Maybe I need to reconsider vegetarianism because I don't like the idea of eating pets. I knew the movie "Babe" had more significance than just a cute story about talking pigs. The iguana owners are really sick at heart about this.

Much of owning a motel is not glamorous. Loads and loads of stranger's laundry, maintenance problems, settling staff issues (like posting bail), paper work and more paperwork including the ridiculous governmental crap (inspections, permits, permits to have inspections...) But, the joy is in the guests. A couple weeks ago we had a guest who was speaking locally about his bike ride from Key West to Peru and he was beginning his new journey from Key West to New England to Seattle, to Southern California and back to Key West. His day job? A stand up comedian.

And how about the woman from Utah who looked like your average natural, no make-up, healthy middle age woman who just didn't believe in shaving. I mean her armpits looked like they housed squirrel tails. I had a hard time not joking "we are not a pet friendly motel." I wondered what was under the long pants she had on. I didn't wonder too long because it sort of freaked me out. I thought feminism took a bit of a turn from that au-naturel scene back in the 70's. In fact, the counter scene is the stupidly enhanced look that some young women are now adopting in the breast department. I have seen women who look like they have grapefruit halves glued to their chests. Perfectly round, top and bottom. South Miami is known for giving plastic surgery as a graduation gift. I know, I know, I should be more accepting. I am. But, I am also prone to being amused by people and there quirks and oddities. I have the perfect perch from behind the Sea Dell desk to observe. And I have my blog to comment. And if you don't like what I say, you don't have to read!

Fathers

I didn't get my blog written in time for Father's Day, because I worked. And the minute I got home, I had to plop myself on the couch with feet up on the coffee table and watch the US Open. I thought about my father all day long, but especially watching that golf game. Golf is a game that my parents enjoyed. In fact, in retirement, it was almost their job! I think they played three times a week, at least, year round. My father had a serious heart attack when he was 84 which he totally ignored and consequently it did a great deal of damage to his heart. Despite what must have been serious angina, he continued to drag a golf cart around and walk 18 holes for several months before the damage got too severe and created other problems that eventually led to his death. He was not going to miss his golf.

I love the game. So does one of my sisters, Mary Beth. In fact, she has already had a hole-in-one. My father had two, both in same year. Just like waiting for the Browns to make the Super Bowl, I am waiting for my hole-in-one.

My father was truly one of the good guys. He was Swedish, from a small town in Pa. which provided him fodder for his many stories about the locals. He was a very handsome man and was in his 30's and widowed when he met my mother while on leave from the army. He was sent to officer's training school, served in WWII, came home and went to college on the GI bill while working full time and raising a family. He ended his army stint by remaining in the reserves and retired as a Lt. Colonel. He would have liked to have completed law school, but by the time he finished a bachelor's degree, I think already having three of his four children to support was a deterrent.

My father's early years were not easy. He had a difficult father who has been described as mentally ill. He had to leave Westminster college to help with the family business and manage family affairs. He married a high school sweetheart who soon after developed TB and was in and out of sanatoriums for much of their seven years of marriage before she died. Some of that history is vague to me as it was a family secret for years.

If I think of the routines in my childhood, I think of my father going to work in the morning, dressed in suit and tie (and fedora and overcoat in the winter) and returning at the same time every day for dinner. We all sat at the table together and a standing joke in our home was that someone would spill their glass of milk and it would head straight for my dad's lap. We had lively conversations and my father was a master story teller. He had a fantastic memory and could recite poetry that he had learned as a youth in school. He could imitate that different ethic accents of the men he had befriended over the years while he worked for the Youngstown Sheet and Tube steel mill. He had many sayings, jokes and expressions that we have passed on as a family. He had a wonderful sense of humor. He was very intelligent, and could finish the New York Times Sunday crossword puzzle by himself in an afternoon. He loved to fish and hunt. He was an avid reader. He liked to discuss politics. He was mellow. I see much of him in my oldest son, Matt. They have a relaxed demeanor but underneath is a burning passion for history and political debate. And, my father definitely influenced Matt's passion for fishing and the outdoors.

I think the best gift that my father gave to me, though, was his patience and ability to listen. He did not judge me. I know that I must have exasperated him often. I was a willful teenager and an opinionated young adult. The Vietnam War caused us much strife as my world was very impacted by the draft and the war and we stood on opposite ends of the debate. Years later he told me that he had been wrong and had changed his opinion to my side. He supported me emotionally through the dramas of my divorce, single parenthood, changes in career, remarriage, separation and all the issues in between. I felt uplifted by his acceptance of me and my decisions, no matter how bad they were. I felt very close to my father and grieved very deeply after he died. I miss him today and will always. Thank you Dad. You were the best. And you were right when you said "too soon old and too late smart." But I keep trying.

Sanibel Island

Harry and I just got back from spending a couple days on Sanibel Island on the west coast of Florida. We try to drive there twice a year, in off season, when it is quieter. We stay at the Shalimar motel and cottages. We have a small kitchen for my bottle of wine and our cheese and crackers, and a porch with a lounge chair that overlooks the ocean, which was just perfect for me to dig into "The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo." We always eat at the same restaurants, and Doc Fords is our favorite. In fact, we have the same entree each time we visit!

I wasn't sure how this trip was going to go after I broke off the key in a rest room lock at a gas station on the way. The clerk was not too happy with me and was noisily complaining about me in rapid Spanish as I scurried to the car after returning the key stub. Like I couldn't tell she was talking about me? Hey, I took four hundred years of Spanish in high school and college (so how is it that I can barely construct a sentence of conversation)?

I think I have been going to Sanibel since the 1970's when my parents began their winter retirement location search and we would pack in the car and drive to Naples and back in one week. Six persons in the car, one overnight stop each way. That didn't leave lots of vacation time! We all fell in love with Sanibel on a day trip. Since then, I have rented condos and gone back over the years with friends, and family in different configurations and I never tire of the spot. There have been many changes, and of course I lament that it has gone upscale, but the core is the same. Beaches strewn with the most amazing shells. Sunsets and sunrises that cast an unreal golden glow. Nature preserves, bike trails, fun restaurants, calm, clear and warm waters, abundant marine and bird life, and, did I mention shells?

I have delightful memories of shelling with my sister Mary Beth, my brother Tom, my mother, my dear friend Barb Chamberlin, my kids and now, Harry. I even recall taking my Uncle Ted there on a day trip from my parents home on the east coast of Florida and in his enthusiasm for trying to grab a shell treasure on a day with rather rough surf, he fell in the water, fully dressed. He was no youngster, either. The shelling changes from day to day and season to season. Every now and then there is a magical window of opportunity where the tides, the currents, the wave action and the moon collide and the shelling is phenomenal. The treasure hunt along the edge of the waves trying to grasp something you have spotted for just an instant that is constantly tossed and pulled away from you while rolling in the surf, is beyond fun. Add warm water lapping at your feet, silky smooth sand underfoot, the warm sun on your back, your cares and worries abated, and you are pretty much in my idea of heaven.

I Hate When This Happens

I saw this story posted in our local newspaper. Couldn't help sharing. What did I tell you? It is friggin' crazy down here!

The stuffed head of a water buffalo crushed a man early Friday morning. The Monroe County Sheriff's Office says Jim Harris called 911 at 1:20 a.m. and that all he could do was yell his address and say he was "crushed."

Deputies rushed to the scene, a home at mile marker 88. When they got inside, they found Harris, who said he had fallen asleep in his recliner. He was abruptly awakened when the buffalo head, which had been hanging on the wall next to him, fell onto his lap.

Deputy Becky Herrin says the head weighs about 80 pounds, and that Harris "was literally pinned in the chair" by the horns and couldn't move. But his cell phone was close enough that he was able to call for help.

He was taken to Mariners Hospital for treatment of the injuries inflicted by the stuffed head.

The American Caribbean

The Florida Keys are known as the American Caribbean. They are home to the only living coral reef in the Continental US. They may be lacking in some of the culture and amenities that Cleveland had, but more and more I appreciate how special the Keys are. They sort of grow on you. Like barnacles! And if I feel a need for a fix, I can drive up to Miami - one of the largest, and truly hippest cities around. Like I know hip... But where else would you look down in the canal behind your house and see an 80# tarpon swim up to nibble on the fish carcasses from the days catch. Or see a crazy upside down lizard hanging like an earring on your Thai prince statue. Nature surrounds you here, and the people that live on the islands are more passionate about that nature than anywhere I have ever been. Something about this place is funky, and it grows on you. It has character, and characters!

Matt, Megan, Jack and Ruby came down for the long Memorial Day weekend. Megan's brother Ryan and his girlfriend Julie also joined us. We were also joined for one day by my cousin John Mitchell and his buddy Pete Toscani. After fishing with Captain Matt, they joined us for a fabulous fresh Mahi-Mahi dinner. It was really a busy, family and friends filled time.

The weekend was full of sun, water and fun. We took the boat out to Molasses reef for snorkeling and fishing. The water was crystalline blue. The sky was dyed to match. No wind, and just hot enough. After catching a number of fish to satisfy Jack's growing fishing interest, and grown-up snorkel time, we motored up to Rodriquez Key sandbar along with half of south Florida to join the party. It was heaven. Warm, crystal clear water. Jack learned to snorkel. Ruby bobbed about in her life jacket. The grownups searched for sea biscuits or just cooled off with a beer in hand with the sounds of different music playing from nearby boats.

Evenings happened around the dinner table and later, at nearby clubs with Grammy Care and Grandpa Harry babysitting. The house had toys strewn about. We played with bubbles, and Sam's old building toys were a big hit. Ruby delighted us with her adorable smiles, affectionate demeanor and charming toddler talk. Jack was a whirlwind of activity and giggles. Everyone got a good dose of kid love. And of course, there was the requisite breakfast at Doc's Diner. We had many a Saturday morning breakfast there when Jack was a baby and we were visiting. Matt would take his boy out to let mommy sleep in. When Matt's favorite waitress is there, no matter how long he has been gone, she remembers what he drinks and brings it without being asked. Living in a small town has its privileges.

It was a wonderful time. I realized not too long ago, while Harry, Sam and I were sitting outside at a restaurant for dinner on the water, that my life is like being on vacation. I used to laugh about Florida and all the old folks. And now I am one. But truly, life is easy here. The sun lifts the spirits. People are more active. I can be out on the ocean in minutes from my home doing world class fishing. I can throw something in the ground and instead of trying to get it to grow, I have to try to keep it contained. I think it is paradise! If only I had all of my friends and loved ones nearby, it would be perfect. But, from the noises that I hear from up north during those long grey winters - maybe I will have them nearby soon.