Marathon Memorial

Today was the day the Monroe County Sheriff's Office remembered Deputy Robyn Tanner, a deputy assigned to the City of Marathon substation. She died last week when her patrol car crashed on her way to a medical assist. The spot where she died at 90th Street is marked by a broken stairway, a pile of flowers and teddy bears and votive candles wavering in the winter breeze. This was the day after we got back from Miami and I left my wife propped up in bed, her arm in a cast, surrounded by hot coffee newspaper and reading glasses. I took the Bonneville out for my first ride since last weekend and I have to confess I missed it.

It was a glorious day to be alive, bright sunshine, gentle north breezes blowing across the Gulf of Mexico bringing humidity down to desert-like proportions and temperatures close to 70 degrees. The liner in my armored jacket kept me warm enough and my heart was warmed in extra measure by the sunshine on the flat waters either side of the Highway.

The memorial was held at the sheriff's Aviation Hangar, where they keep the medical helicopter. The field alongside was packed with law enforcement vehicles, state agencies, police departments all over Florida and our own blue and white KWPD cars scattered amongst the strangers. Outside the hangar the honor guard lined up alongside the motorcycle cops ready for the ceremony. I took my place inside the hangar next to a Highway Patrol Corporal I've talked to from time on the phone, behind a row of anonymous State Marine Patrol Officers.

Deputy Tanner's family sat in the front row, a youthful mother of the 53 year-old deputy, her father coiled tight in pain, her brothers, police officers themselves with tears streaming down their faces. The tribute went on, a mixture of oddly inappropriate humor, bathos and platitudes. But in between the remarks made by a huge group of mixed acquaintances, there shone the character of the dead deputy. Her smile , her cheerfulness, her joy at the job. Her cats, her sidearm handed over reverently to one brother, her badge to the other, pictures of Deputy tanner on the job and my worst moment the Final Radio Call, Central calling 4-1-1-7 who was never able to respond, and so was reported out of service for the last time. And so it went, the sun shone, the breeze kept the flags flapping gently and the helicopters flew by in formation.

Thus, home we variously went to our own unhappinesses and joys, certain that today was a great day to be alive and saddened by the reason that pulled us all together. The greatest tribute of all was also the most modest, made a day earlier away from the all the uniforms and dignitaries. It came from a local homeless man who donated his five dollars to Toys for Tots in Deputy Tanner's name. Because, he told her Lieutenant, she always showed me kindness and respect. No greater tribute can a deputy have than this, from the least among us.

Key West Zoo

It is an irony that my wife teaches in the one room classroom at the Monroe County Juvenile Detention Center, which is a massive structure on stilts parked right above the Monroe County Sheriff's Office's Petting Zoo. Its ironic because her students are not allowed to pet the animals they can almost see from their cells. They might leap the barbed wire, like POWs and run...The downstairs inmates find their time at the jail to be restorative, there is no feeling that to them running might be a good idea. Trustys from the adult jail get the privilege of working at the farm under the supervision of the civilian "farmer" who is charged with looking after the animals. I'm told it is a much prized job and confers status on the orange suited prisoners who get to lift and carry for the farm's inmates. The inmates vary: I've seen horses, a donkey, pigs of all sizes, lots of ducks, friendly inquisitive goats and other more or less barnyard animals. Vets volunteer their time and skill to help restore the battered arrivals.

To the outside world, principally guide book authors, the existence of the farm is something of a surprise. They are shocked the Sheriff of all people runs a petting farm at the jail. However there is a great deal of poverty on the keys in our diverse world down here and it should come as no surprise that humans living on the brink of a very deep financial abyss mistreat their animals. Also Cuban and Haitian migrants, arrivals from some of the poorest places on the planet have very different animal husbandry standards than those of middle class parvenus like yours truly, so it happens from time to time that animals get abused, and even sometimes get saved from that abuse by interfering Sheriff's deputies. Cock fights get broken up, abandoned farm animals are found. Those are the lucky ones and their spirits and bodies are mended in the serene little petting zoo under the juvenile jail.

They in turn introduce fresh young Conchs to the concept of Farm Animals. Children growing up in Key West should know how to fish, but a farm is an alien concept because there is no agriculture anywhere in the Keys. Central Florida is littered with post-and-rail ranchettes raising show horses, and south central Florida is a vast open tract of cow ranching to rival that of the Far West of popular imagination. In Key West the only tractor you will see is the blue machine that cleans the dead seaweed off the public beaches. So children get to learn life lessons at the farm, and very cool it is too. Eccentric perhaps to an outsider, but like so many things in the keys it makes perfect sense that the Sheriff treats abused animals as just another part of the law enforcement equation.

For many reasons Sheriff Rick Roth was the first Republican candidate I ever voted for. Keys politics being the topsy turvey jumble they are, he wasn't the last.