EmptyTown

I live a strange life which sounds like a platitude in the time of coronavirus but what I mean is that after five weeks in Florida lock down mode my life hasn't changed that much from before the pandemic. I feel as though my life is strange because I haven't much changed my routines. My sisters in Scotland and Italy are locked down tight but they live on farms so they aren't trapped in tiny urban apartments with maybe a small balcony to stand on. To be trapped in either sister's location would be a delight for Rusty and I as they both offer (wet and windy) open spaces in northwest Scotland and (hot and dry) open spaces in central Italy.

In Florida we can walk our dogs, shop for essentials, carry a camera (unlike parts of Australia I am told!) and as long as we stay apart from each other we neither break laws nor imperil each other's health. I carry a hospital mask in the glove box, left over from my time in the hospital when I got MRSA in one of my surgical wounds. My wife carefully stored the wheelchair and walker frame and other bits and pieces accumulated in those three bedridden months so that we could offer them to anyone that might need them moving forward. Without decent insurance as I had, it will be horribly expensive to acquire those objects useful for a recovery at home and the idea was to have them to give away as I don't plan on getting killed again thank you. Aren't I surprised to be wearing a  mask that steams up my glasses and makes my face sweat in 95 degree heat.

Above we see the bust of Jose Marti the Cuban freedom fighter who died in 1895 in a battle with Spanish forces colonizing Cuba. He has become a symbol for both sides in the struggle between the Communists in Havana and the refugees in Miami. In Key West he is just another vaguely famous name of someone who made a brief temporary home here between battles. Certainly he would not have been in a  position to make a permanent home here  by buying the 1200 square foot house for sale in the picture below. Two bedrooms, two bathrooms for 900,000 dollars. A pretty little house on Flagler Avenue even with off street parking, but in this town such modest luxury is unattainable for most who actually live here.

I have a few people I would like to have a meal with who are now out of reach. I miss theater performances and the occasional movie at the Tropic. I am fed up shopping like I am on a military mission at the supermarket  or pharmacy watching out for the remotest possibility of close contact. I am grateful to Winn Dixie for their first responder hour Monday and Tuesday nights. I miss seeing the detritus of people, quirky signs that humans were here on the streets. I find it odd to walk streets that are essentially unchanging, untouched by human quirkiness and day to day living. I miss the sounds of the bustle of daily activity, the sense of passing through a stage set of human endeavor. I am surprised by how uninteresting urban settings are without humans occupying them publicly. I don't miss people so much as I miss the traces of their lives imprinted on the world around me. And I am surprised by this new awareness of the absence of people.

There is talk of reopening more businesses and public spaces. So far it is all rather vague as the premise is that as soon as new cases of the virus plateau and start to drop then the re-openings can begin. Only one thousand of 75,000 residents have been tested so far. How they will know when the incidence of new cases is slowing I have no idea. Based on public statements so far this situation seems endless. 

Gratuitous Rusty picture, resting on a  long urban walk.

The Struggle To Be Real

Police officers came by dispatch to mark the end of National Telecommunicators Week and as is the way now they respectfully kept the glass between us and them as you can see. Frankly I haven't felt terribly deserving of accolades because, aside from tedious virus precautions, life goes on pretty much as normal inside our communications center. People screw up or see others screwing up, their bodies give out or they hurt themselves so they call. All is as it should be for us. To be one of the people meeting the public in person seems much more heroic to me these days more than usual. It was a good moment though to have a laugh shared through glass.

Coronavirus has shown us rather starkly what it is to be human and to live among others.  I find it heartening that consensus in the Keys seems to be inclined toward just doing what needs to be done without too much chaffing or fuss. Face masks are the order of the day and as annoying and uncomfortable as they are you won't see anyone try to go into a store without one. 

 It is weird standing in line in civilized fashion and I rather like it. There is a serenity in taking your place on the ridiculous discs on the floor, or keeping behind the line of tape like you are at passport control at the airport.  Everyone seems grown up and thoughtful about it it around here.

I did laugh when I came across the odd forgetful soul, who like me has to ponder choices on our overburdened shelves. Too many choices. These days I force myself to remember to stand close as though my glasses don't work and I am shortsighted. It is hard, as you can see, to overcome the habits of a lifetime. On the other hadn't it is rather nice to be compelled to slow down and wait while the scofflaw, pour soul, gathers his thoughts and pulls to one side. I don't see these acts of public patience lasting too long after the barriers come down.

Publix is the other useful stop to pick up the odds and ends I forgot or couldn't find at Winn Dixie which reserves two hours a week for first responders which is very helpful. I hate doing all the grocery shopping as I feel the burden of decision making for a woman who knows her ingredients and likes to cook. My wife with the damaged immune system has been at home since the Ides of March and grocery shopping is one irreplaceable activity she misses most. Especially as I am so crap at it.

 I saw another type of scofflaw at Publix, people pushing the wrong way down the carefully marked one way system, ignoring social distances, reaching and grabbing as though the reticent among us are somehow socially inept. I watched Mr and Mrs Imbecile wrapped in their patriotic Stars and Stripes masks lunge and shove the slower among the shoppers to get what they needed right now. I am not by inclination a rule breaker especially when I see value in the rule in question and one way traffic in a grocery store is effective and simple and smart. And if you have to walk a bit further just count that as part of your at home exercise regimen. Nor everyone is ready to be required to walk in a certain direction, more's the pity. 

I ask myself what will happen when the restrictions are eased. I like to think we are, most of us, on the fence about what happens next and when. On the one hand I admit I enjoy the culture that requires us to question everything. Personally I could use a bit more knowledge and science in a lot of the replies we seek but I find the European acceptance of all orders a bit too meek. Like everything else with this wretched virus no one seems to know, or be able to communicate, much knowledge about the illness we all face, and in place of certainty idiocy is ready to raise its head. That lack of knowledge gives dissent a certain legitimacy but also a tinfoil hat madness at the same time. It seems bizarre to me to worry about constitutional rights in the face of a public health threat. Japanese Americans were treated disgracefully in 1942 but after the conflict they were not imprisoned for the rest of their lives and I doubt lock down orders will become permanent and unconstitutional. If they are I will join you on the barricades just as I supported compensation for the "interned" Japanese Americans when the offer was made fifty years too late. I find the tin foil hat brigade baffling when they talk of freedom and express themselves thusly not with ideas but guns. I'd rather listen to the scientists thanks when it comes to public health:

 Aside from the fact less than a thousand people have been tested in the Keys, I can't understand why we don't see more than a handful of hospitalizations, and  no great wave of symptoms ravaging these islands. It's not that I want it, obviously, but the absence of great crowds of people coming down with coronavirus has me puzzled because we know social distancing has been hit or miss all the way through this lockdown. Should we then ignore rules enacted for our own good? Or do we assume our leaders have suddenly become power crazed maniacs?

Ease restrictions? Sure we are all ready for summer, and I know I am. I have a job, my wife works from home but others aren't nearly so lucky. But even if the gym re-opens and I miss Bodyzone every day and the people I met there, will I be ready to give it a go and mix up my breath with that of my neighbors? None of us knows who has it or has had it or who may be vulnerable to it. Perhaps the gun toting militias Up North are right and we should do as we want when we want to, but if they are wrong this may just be the first round of socially inept responses to a disease that manages to hide its intentions all too well from us mere humans.

However taking Rusty for a walk is a damned fine way to end any day, heroically spent or not.

The Beaches

Checking the sign below you'll notice that Higgs beach is owned by Monroe County even though it is surrounded on all sides by the City of Key West. The signs are clear and the beach is empty. 

There are a few people wandering around keeping proper distances from each other and enjoying some fresh air and exercise.

The chickens are there of course which is not surprising as they live there and are enjoying a relatively human-free life which I dare say involves seeing fewer scraps too.

The African cemetery is open. That's the monument to the slave ship detained en route to Havana whose unhappy human cargo was rescued and brought to Key West where many died and others were shipped back to an uncertain fate in West Africa.

 For some, beach restrictions don't hold them back, for they are on the high seas:

 For others the most you can get is a perch from which to admire the waves and turquoise waters:

 Children's playground: as empty as if it were 4 am.

 Passersby on foot and on wheels and not very many of either.

Smathers Beach had a few souls littering its vast expanse but they were not exactly bunched up crowds. It looked more like a handful of local unemployed enjoying for once what so many come to Florida to vacation on: golden sand.

Miles of emptiness even in a  town as small as Key West. Closed to outsiders and living with remarkably little confirmed coronavirus. I wonder if possibly isolation actually does work like the scientists told us?

Some Pretty Pictures

We live in a state of suspended animation but photographs must be taken all the same. A moored boat at dawn, bathed in the weird pink glow of early morning light. Bear in mind that temperatures are in the 90s by the middle of the day so if you were thinking dew or frost or visible breath, that wasn't happening. Thank God.

There has been the beach opening fiasco in Jacksonville where the governor said open the beaches if you can do it safely and of course it was about as unsafe a display of crowding as the Sunshine State can put on. If you live in a boring state that never makes the news I can only sympathize. I thoroughly enjoy a pratfall (my wife abhors this trait in me) and to live even only peripherally in the afterglow of the exploits of Florida Man tickles my funny bone. I managed to annoy my colleagues by looking at the link and falling out of my chair laughing. Feel free to react with disdain.

So when the Governor says he is allowing beaches to open "if  it is done safely" you just know it will be a train wreck and of course it was in best Florida Man style. The pictures of people crowding the beach was a throwback to the world before coronavirus. Before you get all sniffy at Florida and our capacity for stupidity, much as my relatives in North Carolina like to do, consider the lock down reaction Up North  where people carrying guns marched around waving flags and looking grim and serious protesting the usurpation of their various constitutions. I much prefer the Florida way of mass cheerful stupidity. 

The beaches in Key West are still closed the mayor hastened to proclaim after barricades started to be moved gently aside and people took to the sand.  Nothing has changed here. On the plus side the Governor has made it clear that schools will not reopen this semester so that issue is settled. My wife has found teaching from home far harder than doing it in the classroom even after we set her up with a desk and monitors and a lovely view across the canal. As much as she knows she has to stay isolated as she has a compromised immune system, she is looking forward to being in her classroom again. Safety first and teaching from home is the best solution for her, certainly.

I continue to hunt for unconsidered trifles on Rusty's mangrove walks. I have seen videos from European photographers, many of them professionals, who are earning no money in this long anxious lock down over there. They can't leave home, they can't work and they can only photograph their gardens at best. I at least get to walk my dog with a camera, go to work with my camera and be socially distant with my camera. Even so I am learning that whether or not you photograph people, human activity leaves behind much of interest to the lens. You notice things in their absence. 

I am struggling to notice things that are more apparent that have always been lolling there pushed into the background by more absorbing activity. Ooh look, a cement crack in a utility pad!  Excellent, how can I make that look like the Grand Canyon? I can't? Oh well. 

The inevitable spandex warrior swished by as I stared hard seeking inspiration from a bright orange leaf....Hey! I wanted to call out, come back, can I photograph your sprocket?  But he was gone, a disappearing speck of high visibility yellow taking all his photographic possibilities with him. Drat.  

 I have noticed this past weekend how dark it is outside when the moon is new as I live on a street with no street lights. A couple of nervous neighbors have outside lights on as though to attract burglars like moths but most of the street is pitch black. Rusty disappears into the void and I follow with a flashlight. So it is that I am missing the moon for a few days. If you can't remember what it looks like here it is:

 Lacking people trees have figured prominently in my repertoire, sunrise in color...

 ....windy in black and white:

Coronavirus? I can't remember anything about that while I'm looking for beauty in this messed up world.

Our Haunted House

We had tickets to the theater when the coronavirus hit the fan. So much for that. I can confirm the Waterfront is still here but I haven't seen the Red Barn as the driveway to that theater is locked. Coronavirus may have swept it away as it seems to be sweeping away every civilized thing in its path.

The Pez Garden is still there happily even though that too is locked. They call it the Pez Garden in Key West as the notable citizens represented there are depicted by bronze busts stuck on long rectangular pillars that look like nothing quite so much as Pez dispensers.

They look like this, below, but this one is separate placed next to the building that was named after him, thus he is outside the locked Sculpture Garden next to Mallory Square.

You can see why they named the old courthouse after him. I wonder how his eminence would have coped with the coronavirus? One likes to think he would have navigated the crisis like a gentleman.

Back in the alleyway between the Waterfront Theater and El Meson de Pepe we find the ficus roots taking over the old coral wall and very artistic it is too:

Cigars we were once worth more to Key West than pirates, though pirates that never existed in Key West are more glamorous:

Lots of parking if you need some and no valets to assist you either. Parking meters aren't working at the moment either so you know the fabric of civilization is rending just a little bit.

Rusty was surprisingly enterprising at the edge of the dark black sloppy ocean waters. The glass bottom boat is parked (and locked) for the duration in case you had some mad idea things were getting back to normal.

The weird thing is people are still calling the police department asking if they can come down for a visit. And they don't seem that thrilled to be told that no, the road is closed to non residents and hotels are closed. "Does that include air B and Bs?" asked one hopeful dimwit. He seemed surprised when I told him two people have been arrested so far for trying to rent vacation rooms.

There is no doubt everyone wants things to start back up but even though I don't really understand the mechanism of transmission of this weird virus, it seems to pop back up when people clump together. So do you leave the cities empty and people out of work like this?

Or do we risk a lot more people getting ill in a hurry and overwhelming hospitals? I think social distancing in Florida has been obviously pretty hit or miss and  now its getting worse as proposals to ease up start leaking in certain communities. We are lucky as long as the Sheriff holds the roads closed at the county line but Up Noprth we have seen people clumping on beaches in Jacksonville. 

I'd like to give them time to see what happens before we go whole hog down here. If in three weeks Jacksonville isn't a hot spot I say we go for it...but let them be the guinea pigs first as they seem keen to throw caution to the wind. I don't mean to imply anyone's  asking my opinion but honestly I'm not keen to be the first to open the door into the haunted house. 

It's quite possible there are no ghosts behind the closed door, and perhaps there isn't much virus in South Florida but what if there is?

So for now the shops are closed, the restaurants are either closed or restricted to outside service and the town lumbers along like a ghost town.

I spend my walks keeping one eye on Rusty who keeps an eye on me and together we meander empty streets and I dare say streets that have fewer interesting smells for a small brown dog to track down.

I expect there is less food for the wild birds too now that drunks aren't dropping pizza slices everywhere.

And even though the lights shine on in the dark the bills will come due at some point.

This dock line clamped tight around a cleat seemed like a good metaphor for our situation, hanging on for all we are worth until something changes. 

Till then follow Rusty's example and keep smiling.