I am freaked out, I admit it, by the credit crunch and repossessions that so far have impacted mostly the very weakest borrowers (racial minorities in large measure who rarely get headline coverage). If you believe we are almost out of the worst of it I will have to respectfully disagree and meanwhile I am left to wonder, alone, just how my generation will cope with the coming melt down. Boomers have never had to Dig for Victory.
Then I flipped the card and felt like I could breathe again:
2500 square feet (240 square meters) is a big home, though I suspect "living space" will include some pleasant though not weather proof covered deck areas. Nevertheless by North American suburban standards its a respectable home and Key Haven is at Mile Marker 5, close to Key West and though it is an upper class address it is plagued by Navy jet noise. The sound of jets appeals to some as the sound of freedom and to others it resembles the four horsemen of the Apocalypse just dropping by for a visit. Take your pick.
It just strikes me as being part of the Keys real estate madness when cards drop in your mailbox advertising multi million dollar homes Reduced! as though anyone might be tempted into spending more than a million (be they ever so feeble) dollars on an impulse purchase... But there again anyone who can be induced to drop that kind of money on a postcard whim won't need to borrow from main street banks which is lucky as loans aren't forthcoming.
Which leads us in circular fashion back to the beginning- Realtors are bored and desperate and Keys homeowners haven't yet realised that the prices of two years ago are far, far beyond values today. It will be time for us to hunker down for a different kind of storm when these second-home owners are hurting so badly that houses in Paradise are truly reduced to feed credit flames stoked Up North . Good luck to all.
Down on the waterfront at Truman Annex there lie a couple of squat cement buildings, close to the gorgeous turquoise waters of Key West's inner harbor. These buildings are harbingers of the City's future, not least because they are growing sod on the roof to reduce cooling costs:
It's going to be a while before we see a lawn on the flat roof of the Police Station, but the Dr Nancy Foster Eco Discovery Center is new and bringing innovation slowly with it. This is the headquarters of the National Marine Sanctuary in the Lower Keys, and there are 33 new acres of land to be developed by Key West around here now that the Navy has handed the waterfront over to civilian use. The Marine Sanctuary in the Keys is easily accessible to members of the public for the waters are protected and shallow and these islands are littered with boats for rent to go out and enjoy them. From cruise ships on down:
The National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, the grandly named Federal agency works with the State of Florida to protect these waters with their boats:
and with their markers and their buoys:
My buddy Robert who has lived in the Keys since 1976 moved from working as a commercial lobsterman to become the waterborne educator of the sanctuary users. His job is to welcome boaters to the sanctuary and then educate them how not to wreck it:
The drive to educate is what got the Eco Discovery Center built and a very modern building it is too, inside as well as out:
Admission is free, the air conditioning is cold and there is even a movie theater in here, so there are lots of reasons on the face of it to pay this place a visit. However, as a friend of mine said to me, "You need to be prepared to spend a lot of time in there, there's tons to read!" and its not all about the water:
The Center really pulls all the habitats together into one web of life. Its not just a matter of not stepping on the hard pressed corals on our reefs, its also a matter of not throwing out trash, not interfering with the life cycles of birds and fish and reptiles; it is all, in short, connected. A point made clear in the movie theater, a painless way to explore the various sticky, buggy environments in the Florida Keys, as seen through the wide eyes of a visitor to the Marine Sanctuary. The movie shows us a child's eye view of the wonders of mangroves and fish habitats in the sanctuary:
There are dioramas explaining the world of the animals underwater:
And above the waters, in the dry land hammocks:
And on the beaches:
For a professional diver and educator like Robert the submersible exhibit holds a special place in his heart:
I like visiting the Eco Discovery Center, not because I feel the need to discover, or reaffirm my desire to be polite to the planet I call home, but because I like reminding myself, during the winter months how much I am going to enjoy immersing myself in the mysterious waters that surround my island home. And just when they seem to be a little less mysterious than usual a weird event pops into the headlines. Like the visitor from Up North killed by a flying ray that broke her neck when it hit her sitting in the bow of her boat slicing through the water at 25 miles per hour... a ray like this one possibly:
I guess it must be a fair representation of a ray but it has those big old Bambi eyes staring down from the ceiling...
No mention here of Casuarina trees. This building is at the heart of the drive to re-vegetate the Keys with native plants and the Pines of Fort Zachary for instance wouldn't be something I'd bring up with Robert next time we're out for dinner at El Siboney...
It has been a few posts since I included gratuitous pictures of my Bonneville posing around town, and today, alas alack, is another one of those. It happened that we have been living through another Easter weekend and it seems for some this festivity is best enjoyed with one's family, which in the Keys often means making a journey, thus orphaning one's pets. So all is not lost for those like my wife and I who are on the holy day sidelines; we got to enjoy the company of Lula Mae for a long weekend.
I am one of those people that gets along quite nicely thank you with almost any dog, unless it is one of those sad creatures driven mad by neglect or imprisonment in solitary confinement in a yard or worse on a chain. My last dog died a couple of years ago and I'm not quite over it..yet, which is perhaps one reason I have yet to write an essay about Emma Goldman and Eugene Debs (and Debs died of cancer six long years ago already). My motorcycle had to stay put at home which was the down side of Lula Mae's visit but we did get to take a few splendid walks:
Lula Mae is an urban dog, used to wandering the sidewalks of the metropolis, but my idea of a walk is to find the path less traveled and then give it a good work out. Any dog that lives with me gets used to riding in the car and being poured out at one of any locations that strike my fancy. Lula Mae has no facility with water either and the sucking and gurgling sounds of the tide's ebb and flow at the submarine pens caused her some consternation:
Lula Mae grew up in rather insalubrious circumstances in Marathon and even had a litter of puppies before she was rescued from her dungeon. These days she lives the good life but from some dim recess of her memory she has retained a powerful loathing for other dogs. She's the reverse of my own phobias, as it were. And when taking her for a walk one needs to be cautious if other dogs are in the offing because she can pull like a train. While she has been known to overpower my wife, with me she pulls just for fun (Lula Mae, not my wife):
But in order not to spend too much time worrying about chance encounters I like to wander alone with her comfortably running back and forth off leash tiring herself out. That and some tug of war earns me a few quiet hours at home before the next bout.
That was the fun part of dog sitting, getting to enjoy the company of dog for a little while, long enough to be reminded of the pleasure and the obligation of dog ownership. The less fun part is a temporary return to driving everywhere in air conditioned comfort (it's been hot and sticky around here all weekend) with NPR on the radio and windshield wipers to fend off the occasional downpour. The thing is I have been bored senseless, more senseless than usual, trundling around in the back of a long line of cars, everywhere I go. I am reminded why many people who drive do it so badly- its deathly boring. 
I try to make it interesting, I try to stay alert and involved but other vehicles clog my sight lines and passing, even with a 3.5 liter v-six is fraught with all sorts of unpleasant possibilities when one is trapped in a cage. In town I find myself forced to lump along with no sense of adventure, no desire to take the long way there, no pleasure at taking longer to get there. I joined the lines of glazed eyes and glazed brains that bump across the bridges and causeways of the Keys. Of course I had a bright eyed and bushy tailed Lula Mae sitting up in the back wondering where the walk was going to be.
I'm not yet ready to be looking after a dog full time, I know it and I'm resigned to it for the time being. One day I'll put a fence around my house, stick a sidecar on the Bonneville ( like Ara and Spirit) and throw my dog and my walker in the hack. But for now, when I have to drive a cage I look out the window and struggle to stay alert, while not envying those around me carefree and irresponsible on their freedom machines:
All good things come to an end and Lula Mae is back home, after one final exhausting walk and tug-of-war and tomorrow I will be commuting properly, on the Bonneville once again, envying no one, riding for the fun of it. And yes, I will be missing Lula Mae just a little bit.
Its Spring Break and they are all around town. My wife went to dinner with a friend at the new Ambrosia restaurant in the nice new million dollar condos at the Santa Maria and she spotted impecunious students woofing raw fish, on the parental expense account no doubt. They aren't all big spenders, but they're in town and doing their youthful thing- everywhere. Smathers Beach is the main hang out for the decompressing college students in this weird Spring custom.
Smathers Beach is a long thin strip of sand (and seaweed) along the south shore of the island, backed by a four lane street which accommodates the wandering eyes of passing drivers, who tend to wander as they eyeball the youngsters:
I'm not one to question (excessively) the mating rituals of anyone, least of all people less than half my age but this Spring Break thing I have never understood , and had I gone to college I doubt I'd have wasted my time, or my testosterone at a beach with hundreds or perhaps thousands of similarly inclined youngsters. I'd have been riding my motorcycle. Come to think that was exactly what I did do when I was in my 20's on vacation. Students here come from afar:
And they sit on the beach or toss a ball:
Some apparently seek solitude, and find it too:
The vendors along Smathers sell the usual stuff, at least I suppose its usual because I'm not a frequent habitue of Smathers beach or any other frolicking spot along the strands of this great nation. The only beaches I like are the small secluded ones far from hot dogs and ice creams.
These vendors have all my respect, they cope with crowds, heat and no relief for hours in order to make a living while the beaches are bustling. they do it all day, day after day, and I'm pretty sure they don't go home to waterfront multi-million dollar condos. All for the pleasure of a life in "paradise." Amazing resilience in my opinion. This sign doesn't lie:
The moped traffic is pretty astonishing too, clumps of them, horns tooting and feet flying out as they parade their spectacular skill and savoir faire in the manner of jousting knights. I'm quite fond of Honda's 50cc Metropolitan, but I never really considered it a babe magnet. Silly me.
Then there are the electric vehicles and their apparently indecisive occupants. I have no idea what they were looking at or waiting for squashed into their absurd little electric car. Godot never approached me, I know that:
Bicycles by the dozen, including the ever popular vacation tandem:
Those rectangular signs on the back of mopeds and bicycles given them away as rentals:
This was no rental and made my heart go pitter-patter far more so than all the juveniles strutting around in their underwear:
For those not lucky enough to strut their stuff on a Vespa GTS, there are other classy activities to enjoy, sailing or para sailing for a start:
And that seaweed which tends to rot gently in the heat needs to be cleaned up which requires the only farm tractor I've seen in the county weaving its way past the beach goers:
Just another feature of vacations in the Keys, beach clean up while you wait...Some people rent apartments and enjoy the view from afar:
But for some all the excitement is just too much and the beach can be an ideal spot for a little time out. That they sleep through it all is a testament to youth and a clear conscience no doubt:
I tip toed away back to my middle aged life. Nobody asked but if they had I should have told them it just keeps getting better the more middle aged you get. But if i remember right at that age no one can tell you anything. I'd also have told them to take their money, get a motorcycle and go and see some of the world. But that was me, young and middle aged.