Blowing Bubbles

It seems to me that unless our political and economic leaders come to grips with this financial crisis we are never going to find a way out of it. Looking back the Federal Reserve has employed one bubble after another to void the effects of the previous "irrational exuberance" to coin a phrase. The tech bubble gave way to the housing bubble which is now giving way to a TARP bubble that is being sustained by a bond bubble. And the root causes of our problems are not being addressed. That root problem is a total lack of confidence in anyting monetary.

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The problem is that if someone grabs the nettle and tries to figure out a proper clean up policy there is a really good chance the whole economy will implode with unforeseeable results. or possibly with all too foreseeable results- mass penury, disillusionment and "social unrest." In order to avoid pissing off the entire population all at once our dear leaders are most likely making the end result worse even than it has to be by multiplying the disastrous economic decisions.

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Credit remains tight because the infamous Credit Default swaps and Mortgage Backed Securities still haven't been sorted out so banks are holding on to their government supplied funds in a desperate effort to have cash in hand should any of these musical chair obligations fall into their laps. Basically speaking the banks have no idea what their real liabilities are, or might be, and they have no idea what their neighbor's might be either so lending money is a fool's game. So no matter how much "liquidity"the Fed pours into the banks, all they do with the money is award themselves some bonuses and sit in the rest waiting for the meltdown.

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The problem now is the bonds that the government is issuing at zero percent. The idea is that freaked out investors with money to stash are willing to dump their money with the US government and get no interest in return for the favor. It is a sign of the total lack of confidence in anything that moves that people with money are happy to let it sit in the bonds and earn nothing. Nothing at all. At least they figure, they'll preserve their capital. Which means forget stocks, forget loans, forget credit forget normal economic functions. We are in ZIRP Land, where the zero interest return plan offers us the prospect of nothing at all.

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Which puts the economy in a pickle. If the way to get things moving is to let things crash and burn and no one in charge has the nerve to do that then we are going to be stuck limping along with no money, no credit no confidence and no hope. Until things get so bad someone tries something in desperation.The Japanese got stuck in that hole during the 1990s and they didn't much like it. Then they worked their way out of it by laying people off, and generally being industrial hard asses. Then just as they thought they were clear the sub prime mortgage backed crisis hit and swept them back into deflation hell. And now for lack of nerve it seems we are destined to swirl down the same plug hole. This could be a very long drawn out drag.

Nassau Lane

Walking east on Fleming past the library there seem to be dozens of little lanes heading off into the wilderness of Key West's green gardens. Nassau Lane is well marked and obvious, and trafficked too:It's that time of year when parcels make their journeys across country. As much as key West wants sometimes to be an offshore island we do enjoy having access to all those fripperies delivered to one's door. I nearly bought a house here with my wife when we were looking back in 2004.I'm exaggerating a bit. This place didn't look nearly so nice back then but he had asked to see the least expensive listing to start our search. This place came in at $175,000, a few hundred square feet with an outside balcony upstairs and a sleeping "alcove" off the main living room. It reminded my wife of her student digs in San Francisco's mission district when she was studying law, concave floors and all. We readjusted our sights a little higher. The lane is pretty though: The usual mixture of well to do restored and massive:And the unrestored funky and original, which gives Key West it's old town flavor:A bit of early spring cleaning underway perhaps or someone moving in or moving out. Homes tend to be small in Key West so when it's time to rearrange the furniture for whatever reason it generally has to go out in the road in front of God and Everybody, as there aren't massive suburban garages around here to hide one's stuff:The resident cat looking imperious as usual:And look here what do we have. Why I do believe its the beginnings of a lawn. It may not look like much but it caught my eye:I don't miss snow or frost or seasons or any of that kind of stuff. But a nice sun warmed lawn is a fine thing to be able to lay down on and look up at the clouds floating by. I do miss a nice piece of lawn from time to time. Nassau Lane at Christmas, which you would only know thanks to the garlanded house at the corner:I wonder if I would still like Key West had we wedged ourselves, mortgage free, into that tiny little shoe box on Nassau Lane?

Band Practice

It might seem odd in one so averse to children, public events and schooling as myself, but I confess I was looking forward to attending the Winter Concert at Key West High School this year. My wife and I were invited by a colleague of hers who has a daughter in the High School Band and I was happy to show up and be part of the support group:The High School was rebuilt a few years ago on the same site as the old school on Flagler Avenue, and happily for us, the community at large, they included a modern theater facility on the campus. The auditorium is used as a performance space of all kinds, music, theater and of course the band:They call it a Winter Concert but it's not the solstice they are marking:I have to say the program was varied far beyond anything we attempted when I was in High School. The Director of Bands Ashby Goldstein had the band perform the usual holiday fare which is really Christmas carols and Tchaikovsky but we also got some Kwanzaa music which I had never heard, Imani by Sean O'Loughlin.It was abundantly clear Goldstein, himself a graduate of key West High, was having a great time with his youngsters:
I like the fact that the High School is an open campus, in a nation where students in big cities have to pass through gates and metal detectors to get to work, the students here can come and go as they please. of course Key West is such a small town truancy isn't as easy to pull off as it might at first appear as everyone has a tendency to know their neighbor's business...MY wife's buddy Cathy lives up the Keys near us and she was keeping a close eye on her daughter who was playing a saxophone buried almost out of sight in the bowels of the band. The proud parents had their camera out for the occasion and Phil was working hard to pull his teenager out of the crowd:The band's performance brings out the village atmosphere in this small town and during the intermission neighbors took the time to to catch up with each other:Whenever I attend a gathering like this in Key West I think about how far out on a limb we are down here, sticking out like a finger into the Straits of Florida. if we could get in the car and drive south to Havana we would be there easily in ninety minutes, and what a world apart it would be! Yet here we are firmly anchored, under our palm trees and the star studded tropical sky, in America. This may be rhe southernmost High School but its still the band in the land of Sousa and glittering instruments and a particular musical history:Cathy said the young musicians had been hard at work practicing for this public display of their artall semester long. She said band practice was a daily affair and treated with utmost seriousness by the musicians. Mnay years ago I was in my high school band in England where I was sent to boarding school. Looking back I feel rather as though I am seeing someone entirely different:The vest tradition lived on I was glad to see including this young timpanist clacking his wood blocks:And how can one not approve of a female tuba player? Call me prejudiced but I've always felt the piccolo, valuable though its music may be, is an instrument foir wussies...The concert highlight was a performance of the inevitable Nutcracker Suite, holiday music par excellence, but as Mr Goldstein himself pointed out, one cannot hear the Nutcracker and not think of ballet... So we were privileged to witness the debut of a new and exciting corps de ballet whose name I forget. However their performance, brought to us by means of a video recording was unforgettable. Indeed they brought the house down:They were, it turned out, hairy members of the band itself, unafraid to make fools of themselves in tutus and slippers, diving, pas de deuxing and pirouetting with no aplomb but plenty of vigor. You had to be there to listen to the whoops and hollering and gales of laughter as the boys flung themselves into their roles as swans of a bygone age trying to be graceful and failing with determination. They took their bows from the wildly appreciative house:Cathy was as flabbergasted as anyone by the tightly kept secret of the special performance, no was to know ahead of time. The evening ended a little earlier for my wife and I as we left before the community singalong. My wife is a Jew and despite her protestations she has but the vaguest idea about the Christian traditions of Christmas and I couldn't bear to hear her mangle Christmas carols. Aside from which I loathe audience participation and singalongs so she was the perfect excuse for me to get us out of there. As we left we found a youngster perched on the auditorium steps:He was unable or unwilling to articulate to strangers passing by why he was sitting out there missing a great evening's entertainment warming his hands with his breath. And I know 68 degrees isn't really cold in a lot of places, but it is in Key West, keeper of the southernmost flame of small town American traditions. Be not afraid, we here at 24 degrees North Latitude know what needs to be done this time of year even if frost and snow never put in an appearance. I'm only sorry I couldn't get to the Christmas parade down Truman Avenue, the other winter tradition that will have to wait till next year. Same time same place I hope.

Northernmost North Key

There is a street off Highway One called Morris Avenue and it is, as far as I can tell the northernmost street in the Keys. Or possibly not. In the above photograph the US flag flying above Pirate Hat Marina is in Monroe County, but the green bushes beyond it are most likely across the county line in Dade County. Which means this is definitely the end of Highway One in Monroe County. Pirate Hat Marina (which is for sale incidentally if you know how to get a bank loan) claims it is in Key Largo:It's certainly at Mile Marker 112.5 but as far as I can tell technically speaking Key Largo doesn't extend north of Jewfish Creek, so this place is in Monroe County for sure but not technically in the Keys. I think I am being pedantic, and I can't help myself. It certainly feels like the Keys. This is Morris Avenue winding a half mile from Highway One: With mysterious boat views: And trailers hidden behind bougainvillea and the like at Pelican Cay Harbor:And that sign is pure Keys overkill. On the subject of pedantry the word "cay" is pronounced "key" across the Caribbean. In the US the Florida Cays were changed to Keys because Americans apparently had trouble bending their brains enough to pronounce "cay"as "key." When I hear Cay pronounced as it is written it sets my teeth on edge. I should be on tranquilisers if that's the sort of stuff I worry about.... In any event Morris Avenue ends abruptly at the water's edge which is hidden by development (another feature of life in the cays/Keys):And looking back more of the same:Some boats:
And then there is the road winding gently back towards Highway One:On the north side there is the Pirate Hat Marina a haul out place welcoming to liveaboards and their homey touches on their boats:And on the south side a rather more substantial gate than the hurricane fencing surrounding the other private property:Manatee Bay also has marina facilities on the north side of Morris Avenue and claims they are "Number One in the Keys" whatever that means (especially as they aren't really in Keys, any of them except in spirit, but I'm not into marketing apparently). And then after a short break away from the traffic back out onto the newly refurbished Highway One pointing to Key Largo and the Keys to the south:108 miles to Key West, about 80 miles to my home. An hour and three quarters if I'm lucky. Endless hours if there is a wreck blocking the road...

Sailing With Dogs

East Hollandes Cays. San Blas, Panama, Thanksgiving 1999.

We got a dog shortly after we got married. My wife started to get faxes at work (we didn't use the Internet in those days if you can imagine) and pictures of dogs started to appear. We went to the pound and I found Emma, scheduled to be executed Sunday because her three weeks in isolation were up and her kennel cough wouldn't go away. It was Friday evening and I left her in jail to return Saturday to save her. We lived together for almost 14 years. we sailed together too:

On passage Mexico to El Salvador. 1999

After we'd had Emma Goldman for a while, a neighbor's dog came visiting while we were gardening at our Santa Cruz, California home one summer afternoon and he flopped in my wife's lap. Eugene Debs belonged to a neighborhood teenager (he called him "Bullet") whose single mother was exhausted and hated us for loving her dog more than she did. Eventually they agreed he was better off with us than with them and Emma Goldman got her soul mate Eugene Debs. They were inseparable till he died five years later of liver cancer. Sea of Cortez, Baja California, Mexico November 1998.

We decided to take off sailing in our Gemini catamaran and clearly we weren't going to be crossing the South Pacific not least because the distances are vast, requiring weeks at sea. Then when one arrives on some micro-speck in the middle of nowhere... every single country except the French Islands (and Palau, oddly) enforce an animal quarantine prior to entry...besides we speak Spanish so Central America was our goal, by default. The dogs? They had to come too of course. So off we went, leaving Santa Cruz, California in August 1998, bound for Key West.

Cuba's North Coast Inside The Reef. February 2000

It was tough sailing with two large dogs for a number of reasons. The Pacific Ocean is enormous, stretching ten thousand miles at it's widest and this distance, even when one isn't crossing it, produces a monstrous swell that crashes on American beaches in huge curling waves. Landing the dogs was an operation constantly fraught with peril. We tried to seek out coves and bays where we could find a quiet spot to rush the dinghy ashore with a chance of landing safely. Our arrival in the Caribbean after transiting the Canal was a relief as even though sailing weather got tougher there was the prospect of much easier beach landings.

Approaching Miraflores Locks, Panama, Summer 1999

The other thing about sailing with dogs is that they hate peeing on the boat and we tried to re-train them to go in the cockpit or on the deck- anywhere! They resolutely refused. Thus we tried to keep our hops as short as possible making it tough to drift under light winds and take our time. each passage was carefully timed requiring the use of the engine every time our speed dropped. Landings in new countries required we find a quiet spot to anchor first so the dogs could get ashore and relieve themselves so that later when we waited for customs they could snooze, relaxed and relieved on the boat. Frequently in anchorages we found ourselves going ashore no matter what the weather to walk the dogs while our neighbors snugged down below decks and watched in wonder as we tramped around amusing our animals.

Rinsing Debs Off. Cuba February 2000

The other thing was we had to sail with a watermaker. We had a six gallon per hour (24 liter) machine that made fresh water from salt consuming a fair bit of our meager electric supply. We used the water to rinse the dogs every time they came back on board from any trip ashore. We also cooled them off with fresh water sprays on hot days. Once a week they got proper baths with Head and Shoulders shampoo which kept them smelling fresh. People will tell you wondrous things about pet husbandry, like showers and chocolate are bad for dogs but ours thrived on both. Then again they thrived on sailing.

On The Beach For Maintenance. Costa Rica Spring 1999

The truth is Debs hated sailing and Emma wasn't too keen either. Debs slept during passages curled up under the table in the main cabin or in my wife's arms in bed. Emma slept in the cockpit where the motion was less. But they both adored arriving and they had the time of their lives. I met another couple with a German Shepherd and they were extremely fussy about letting their dog off leash. I gave up early on with the leash fetish. Mexicans think leashed dogs are fierce ("Bravo?" They'd asked fearfully) and if i walked these two monsters on leash they'd empty sidewalks for blocks. So we let them ramble at our heels and what they found and ate they ate. We tried to be philosophical about it. Someone remonstrated with us once as Emma snacked on gutter food and I said: "Do you want to put your hand in there and get it out?" They thrived as did we on street food, though ours was paid for...We never got a stomach ailment nor did our dogs.

Emma Was Always Hungry. Miki G's cabin. Somewhere.

We carried four twenty-pound bags of dry dog food and discovered Pedigree was available everywhere in Central America. It wasn't the organic frou frou food found in the US but it did fine for them. We had tremendous adventures in thirteen different countries, riding buses, renting cars, visiting cities and sites all over the place. The dogs swan in Lake Aititlan, Guatemala, in Lake Nicaragua and Lake Miraflores, Panama. Debs loves to chase monkeys in their trees and crabs on the beaches. Emma sat in the surf cooling off while he ran himself ragged in the tropical heat. Every landing was an exhausting marathon of dog walking.

I don't write much about our dogs. Debs has been dead about seven years and Emma three but I find thinking about them still painful. We kept on keeping on after Debs came down suddenly with cancer, and I saw with my own eyes how Emma mourned him for a year, sad and lonely and nothing I could do would cheer her up.

Emma And Our Solar Panel. Gun Cay, Bahamas. Spring 2003

Emma got old, happily for me, but our last trip to the Bahamas was too much and she suffered frightening heat stroke seizures. We sold the boat and installed our love in a house where she tottered gamely through her final years to the inevitable appointment with the vet's needle. I'm starting to miss cruising again after several years away from sailing, but not a day goes by I don't think of Emma and Debs and our crazy adventures in Central America. One day perhaps I will be able to write about them without feeling them so much. For now I keep them stored in my head where they float around threatening still to cause me pain when I think about how much I miss Emma and Debs.

Miki G, Gemini 105, Hull Number 529, Warderick Wells, Bahamas.

My current fantasy is to get a small cheap boat and take off some February for six months drifting through the Bahamas. I want a relaxed cruise next time, not a marathon, and if I can't have Emma and Debs along for crew I don't want to go with a dog. Not next time, not until I can get over how glorious was the time we four spent together, and how unrepeatable.