Florida's Big Election

I really like the Eye On Miami Blog and this essay on why Charlie Crist the former Republican governor turned Democrat should be re-elected makes for worthwhile reading. Because I am a Democrat it's easy for me to like Crist even though I am leery of ever hoping for much from our politicians whose campaign expenses feed television budgets and are bought by the oligarchs that really run the country. However one wonders what South Florida might look like were Big Sugar and the Fanjul family ever to get a bloody nose. Could Crist be the man to deliver it? Incumbent Rick Scott presided over the worst case of medicare fraud in US corporate history with his company fined $1.7 billion, but the bright sparks we call Florida voters thought he was a good choice to lead the state. He has been working hard to ingratiate himself with the voters offering money like an old time feudal lord buying off the peasantry but I still prefer Crist. Hmm...a glimmer of optimism, what a strange sensation for me.

Charlie Crist  versus Rick Scott

Why voting for Charlie Crist is good for Florida … by gimleteye

US Senator Marco Rubio really doesn't like Charlie Crist. That much is clear in a hostile letter mailed to Florida Republican voters.

Where's the sugar, Marco?

Remember when Charlie Crist was governor, he tried to fix Everglades restoration with a dramatic purchase of more than 150,000 crucial acres south of Lake Okeechobee to restore the dying River of Grass. The Fanjul billionaires were "outraged" (no one crosses the Fanjuls!) and were biggest supporters of Rubio in his campaign for US Senate against Crist.

Hating on Charlie Crist is what Big Sugar does.

Rick Scott fits squarely into Big Sugar's long plans for developing sugarcane lands into suburban sprawl.

Recently, US Sugar ratcheted up the stakes for taxpayers funding Everglades restoration, easily pushing past the Hendry County Commission a plan to develop 67 square miles of its sugarcane into more Florida sprawl.

That's land Charlie Crist wanted to purchase for the Everglades and was criticized by Republicans for saying it would cost too much. Well what, dear readers, what do you imagine the cost will be, now that industrial, commercial, and residential zoning is attached to it? And when US Sugar paid for Republican legislators to hunt in luxury at the King Ranch in Texas, Gov. Rick Scott was right there -- but he wasn't talking business, he says.

Florida's Republican leaders don't like Charlie Crist, but they are not telling you how they are lining their pockets by wrecking so much of what Floridians value. For instance, everything to do with restoration of America's Everglades is a work-around of Big Sugar.

Republican leaders believe that if government can put a monetary value for corporations on any action, then government can afford to pay for protecting what is harmed by that action. The problem with the formula is that it depends on mis-pricing. Put a higher value than a government regulation is worth and underspend what is necessary to protect the public.

That's exactly what Republicans lead by Gov. Rick Scott did by destroying the agency charged with growth management in Florida. They claimed that the Florida DCA was a "jobs killer" but that was vastly over-stating the case, and cost, against growth management. Instead, after years of under-cutting regulations -- "government-designed-to-fail" is the best description of what Florida Republican leadership believes in -- Gov. Rick Scott simply delivered the final blow, destroying what took decades of bipartisan consensus to build.

It's sweet for them and sour for us. Do once, and, repeat. It's gaming the system, and no governor has been better at gaming Florida than Gov. Rick Scott.

For Republicans, the problem with Charlie Crist is that he can never be one of their cronies, helping to mis-price government action in order to fatten their net worth. These days, that's a very low bar and a very good reason to vote for Charlie Crist.

From The Archives: Boca Grande

Robert's Dad has since died, but I remember him fondly, a man with a twinkle in his eye and a sharp sense of history and humor. I like seeing him alive and perky again even if its just on this little page. It was a good  day on the water, now so long ago, five years, a reminder that time really does fly as you age. I'd like to do it again when my boat works! Tiresome boats!

Thursday, July 9, 2009

Boca Grande Picnic

This is the best time of year to be in Key West in my opinion, because this is the time of year one goes swimming. Dolly and Robert invited us out for a picnic at Boca Grande Key, about seven miles west of key West. It was a massive organizational effort by Dolly as Boca Grande is entirely deserted, and we are Americans,, thus want for nothing even in Nature's most remote spots:

There are a few small scraps of land that are more than just mangroves scattered around Key West, places that are naturally sandy and superbly isolated. Boca Grande is on the way to the Marquesas Keys, and ultimately the Dry Tortugas. The beach at Boca Grande is the farthest west of the string of small mangrove islands known locally as "The Lakes" a broad basin of shallow water surrounded by islands. On this chart Key West is off the screen to the right and the Dry Tortugas to the left:

Because we all live in the Lower Keys it was easier to simply rent a boat off the docks behind the Half Shell Raw Bar (305-295-BOAT if you feel inspired) than to drive our own skiffs 25 miles just to get to Key West. The docks were looking good as we pulled away:

We also had an honored guest on board, Robert's 84 year old father, a man who loves to take cruise ships in retirement and who has been all over the world as a result. However he was rather apprehensive about a small boat trip to a deserted beach as he has several artificial joints which make him vulnerable to falls. The rental boat was a much more comfortable craft than our crude skiffs for him to make the journey:

Robert senior is also prone to getting melanoma, "My Norwegian skin!" he lamented, so he had to stay covered up and in the shade at all times. The logistics of this trip were remarkable, and Robert and Dolly pulled it off as we shall see...Robert enjoys sharing his knowledge of the water and the wildlife and we took a pause in the middle of The Lakes so his father, a massively curious man, could catch up:

The ride to Boca Grande took about forty minutes at the rental boat's relaxed pace, and soon enough we could see the thin sliver of sand, the full moon high tide was busy dropping even as we arrived and there was a tremendous current off the beach.

We had our choice of location and Robert beached the boat whereupon we unloaded a mound of gear that soon transformed itself into an awning, chairs, ice chests, a Weber grill and so on and so forth. The awning was superb as there was a light southwesterly wind and in the shade we found ourselves to be refrigerated to a perfect temperature, and the lack of fresh water meant there were no bugs either:

We weren't alone but there was lots of room for all:

And I have to say we had to be the best equipped group on the beach, with the grill turning out hot cheese sandwiches, with my wife's Greek salad for garnish:

And Robert is no slouch when it comes to enjoying the fruits of his own labor (he grills pretty much at the drop of a hat):

And when I said well equipped I meant it. Dolly and Robert have this excellent ice cream churn. They found it at a yard sale and they use it from time to time and it never ceases to amaze me. It consists of a double walled bucket that gets frozen ahead of time and then one adds a mixture of one's choosing, in this case cream and eggs and milk I believe with some Ghirardelli chocolate, and then hey presto! with just a little churning out comes delicious ice cream, a full quart of the stuff:

And there we sat, in the shade, fanned by the breeze, hogging homemade chocolate ice cream.

One has to pity the poor plebs who came less equipped...

Though they seemed to having fun too, I have to say. It really doesn't take much to luxuriate in this deserted places, all sun sand and sea, just like the travel brochures tell us. Robert senior got into too, he marveled at the ease of the picnic and his pleasure was obvious. We youngsters took to the water, drifting past our campsite in the rushing tidal waters, stepping onto the beach further down and walking back upstream to do it again:

It was like a water park. Even though it hardly resembles it at all, this is in fact real life and we found time's winged chariot rushing us along and soon enough we had to stop this sybaritic playfulness and pack the boat for the return trip:

We got Robert Senior safely ensconced in the shade and off we went:

Robert's Dad carries his 84 years very well, but his mind is extra sharp and he exemplifies the notion that a sense of curiosity will keep you youthful. He engaged me in extended conversations about politics the economy and religion in a way that was non confrontational and engaging but also open to other points of view. I felt more like I was in a Greek taverna a couple of thousand years ago engaged in Socratic dialogue than being a bum on a Key West beach. He spent his working years as a financial adviser in Manhattan, and he had some choice remarks to make about the modern ethics of the trade. A confirmed Republican he voted for President Obama and thinks he's doing the best he can in an impossible situation. A religious skeptic, or a pragmatist as he put it, he faces old age with equanimity and a twinkle in his eye. He made the picnic for me, and I was as apprehensive about meeting him as he was about riding the small boat. I've known his son for twenty years and the old man's approval seemed important. He called me a philosopher and slapped his knee with delight whether we found a point in common or in opposition.

The return trip was the usual sedated ride back to base, everyone filled with food and sun and exhausted by water exercises:

We stopped by Robert's workplace at the national Marine sanctuary offices on Truman Waterfront and I got to snap a picture of the USS Mohawk still decorated for the Fourth of July, a reminder of my tour aboard last winter:

And in closing the view of the Key West waterfront as one crosses the harbor:

So, remind me, why is it people flock to Key West in winter, when the waters are cold and the seas are rough? Long may they continue to do so, I'll take summer over winter any day.

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The Answer To My Persistent Question

Robert said he wanted to see Calvary which surprised me as a movie about the effects of child abuse among the Irish of County Sligo, about which I know only what William Butler Yeats taught me in English Literature classes taught by monks who approved heartily of his Irish Catholic Romanticism. However the movie Calvary did not seem to impress Robert much, though I found it completely absorbing despite its decided lack of romantic underpinnings and the harshness of the subject. Robert and I then talk boat repairs which was much more up his street, and my boat, the object of our post movie conversation remains not totally functional. Grr.

 But I did get to wile away some time on Duval Street before the movie so I took a walk, as you do, waiting for Robert to show up and it was perfectly lovely downtown. September traditionally gets a bit tedious as one waits for summer's heat to break but this year we have been enjoying low humidity and strong breezes in between the total humidity of drenching downpours. That people complain of summer heat in Florida baffles me; what on Earth do you expect? Snowflakes?

 The four hundred block of Duval Street is in ferment presumably getting ready for winter tourism and the ever more closely impending chaos of Fantasy Fest set to culminate this year on October 25th, I think. I always have to work Fantasy Fest and this year it's my regularly scheduled weekend so I won't make much overtime but if I survive the week with mys ense of humor intact I will be happy. Life in Paradise:

 Fast Buck Freddie's is a blank canvas waiting for CVS to work it's magic. I wonder if they will keep the planters out front that serve as a work bench and display case for the palm weavers and their acolytes? 

 This is slow season for vendors, and its said in key West that to prove your worth as a shopkeeper or waitperson you have to be able to set aside enough in the fat months to see you through the no sales lean months. Like September.

Lots of standing around waiting to lure customers in from almost empty sidewalks. The various chambers of commerce report higher than expected visitor numbers this summer, up ten percent they say, whatever  that means exactly. I figured as much judging by the endless stream of traffic on Highway One all summer long...

 The city of Key West is back up to strength the newspaper tells us with the City Manager almost forgetting to tell the city commission he had hired a second assistant city manager, again.  As odd as it may seem Manager Scholl has started a tradition of needing two assistants to run this town of 23,000 people. He was recently reappointed to the top job after the city commission fired his predecessor, a survivor of two years in the top city manager's  job. Then, instead of initiating a search and using the city attorney to fill in temporarily, the commission adopted the Mayor's proposal and -no search needed - the old manager was quickly rehired. Very efficient, and now both assistant slots are full again so its full steam ahead. A search for the assitant city manager's job apparently was not necessary either.

I guess this is a good time of year to refresh the building that houses La Concha hotel because if you are going to close a sidewalk September is a good time of year to hope that pedestrian in the street won't get run down as they side step the construction.

I have been noticing the new twin trash/recycle bins downtown so one might hope that the concept of recycling will take root. However the whole garbage contract between the city and its haulers has been up in the air in the strangest possible way. The city, under the old city manager, put the expiring garbage contract out to bid in the usual way. City staff recommended the lowest bid but the city commission overrode them and voted to continue with the same company, at greater public cost. The cost estimates at first suggested a large rate increase coming up but that news didn't go over well. And here's the odd part. 

 Histrionically  Key West can't recycle for love nor money. Recycle rates as a percentage of the waste stream have hovered around 7%. Then suddenly last year the rate tripled to 21% after the city reduced garbage pick up to once a week. Amid dire predictions of health hazards and overflowing smelly garbage cans, the sky failed to fall and everyone apparently decided it was better to recycle. Weird huh? Well, never one to lose an opportunity to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory the city commission in a moment of inspired brilliance decided to restore the twice a week pick up. Thus increasing the contracted costs and hopefully reducing recycling all at once. Luckily the massively increased cost of the not-contracted twice weekly pick up may have scotched that plan for now, but what the point was of putting the waste contract out to bid in the first place is completely unclear. Perhaps just to fool those not paying attention into imaging the fix wasn't in? It worked, the election came and went with no change in the city's leadership. Meanwhile the idea that bars should recycle their millions of bottles and cans is laughably invisible to the Southernmost City.

Key West is a miracle town, made possible b y an impossibly gorgeous climate and a display of botanic artifice that proves Nature is better equipped to survive here than the human brain. No matter what grotesque choices humans make this town is protected by an unbeatable tourist oriented combination of  attractions: permanent sunshine, blue skies, turquoise waters and lush greenery. So the money keeps coming in and he commissions best efforts to waste it still leave the city in decent financial shape. Talk about a gift from the Gods! Petroleum reserves might be more lucrative but its hard to be sure.

Fashions trickle down to Key West slowly and the latest bicycle fad is inexplicable to me. I read a short article in Bicycling magazine about fat tired bicycles and they say they are only really effective in snow and peculiar frosty "groomed" trails. Key West is nowhere mentioned oddly enough because they are showing up all over town where people gather to chat in the shade:

 Just don’t get too excited about using a fat bike for everyday transportation. Explorer Mike Curiak has ridden thousands of miles on them and plans to use one on a 700-mile expedition to the Northwest Passage this summer. “Fat bikes take me places where people haven’t been, where normal bikes couldn’t go,” he says. But he’d never consider one for conventional trails. “An $800 hardtail with a suspension fork will ride a million times better,” he says. 

Still, there’s plenty to love. Fatties have extended the riding season through winter in the northern half of the United States and, in towns with groomed snow trails, the bikes are becoming as popular as cross-country skis. In Minneapolis, where Surly is based, enthusiasts have created a race series. And shops everywhere are finding that the bikes’ unique ride entices novice riders, drawing new riders to the sport. 

 I'd rather be sitting on a towel waiting for Godot in 90 degrees than planning a bike trip on a  snowy "groomed trail" which sounds peculiar at best and uncomfortable most likely, in some polar region Up North.

I came out of the movie, chatted with Robert and crossed the street to find my Vespa ET4 had picked up a blue and white clone. Except it wasn't, it was a creditable attempt at a  Vespa-lookalike by Kymco, a well known Taiwanese ( thank you Dennis!) brand of scooter. Apparently the Like 50 also comes as a 200 which I think might be quite a decent scooter were the need to arise, as it were. Kymcos have a deservedly stellar reputation for quality and reliability.

 Sometimes the devil gets in me and I ask a stupid question in response to the rote questions asked at the point of sale. In a lot of establishments the question "Can I get you anything else?" is frequently offered, pro forma, by a bored sales person or an eager "up seller" hoping to do the company right by encouraging the punter to spend just a little more. These kinds of questions tend to aggravate me in a mild way because the pursuit of sales at all costs is such an omnipresent fact of life in our permanently connected world. So when I am at the Tropic Cinema which has a really pleasant space in which to hang out, even if not seeing a movie, I  enjoy dealing with the volunteers, many of them witty educatedAnswer to Life's Persistent Questions retirees, selling tickets or food and drink. You haven't really seen a movie until you've done it sharing a bottle of wine in public, in the dark in my opinion. Anyway I got a soda to wash down Calvary and the woman at the counter asked me is I wanted anything else. The devil got in me and I asked for a slice of happiness. Bless her, she smiled sweetly as she passed me my change. 

Best answer I ever got. 

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A Mad Walk

I'm not completely sure what happened to me yesterday but when I got home after my third long night of work in a row I loaded Cheyenne into the car and drove back to Key West. I was primed not to go to sleep just yet and I wanted to stretch Cheyenne's legs as they only get exercised chasing smells in the Big City. I was quite surprised how energetic I felt. Mind you as we slowly approached the Southernmost City in the middle of a long line of crawling commuters it occurred to me it might be quite a damp walk as I saw piles of black rain clouds amassing over Key West.

I was quite proud of myself as in addition to collar and leash for Herself, plastic bags for community welfare and my camera disguised a phone I also remembered to take my New England umbrella, purchased in Portland, Maine last summer. It was a vacation impulse purchase to ward off their version of summer, which consisted of cold rain and strong biting winds. Maine is too robust for my tropical constitution, but I was pleased to note the brolly did a first rate job under the paltry warm rain falling dismally on Key West. Cheyenne was so glad to be in the city she ignored the water completely.

We strolled past the new West Marine building on Caroline Street, a vast mausoleum dedicated to the very 20th century proposition that boating requires spending money on lifestyle accessories. I saw the dude poring over his computer screen in the shipping office and I reminded myself I was never much good at retail even at West Marine where I fed my boat with parts purchased consuming my every pay check, it seemed like.

Chickens. I am not fond of Key West's free range foul. They are noisy and scratch dirt everywhere and are so used to people they are developing a bad habit of panhandling. Cheyenne frightens them a bit so they tend to stay away but she has zero hunting instincts and ignores them completely. Later in the walk one chicken was not so lucky as some bloody fool was walking his young dog not only off leash but without a collar. The chicken ducked and zigged but the dog was in hot pursuit while his spaced out owner walked off in the wrong direction. Cheyenne was blissfully unaware of the Chicken Death Drama so my attempts to rescue the wretched bird were stymied by my canine anchor, but as it was a delivery driver was moved by the squawking to rescue the bird from the playful pit bull. As it was the dog owner slapped his dog as though the animal were to blame for his insouciant stupidity and the chicken stalked off wet with dog spittle but none the worse for wear. "He's just playful" the idiot dog owner told an incredulous world. I told Cheyenne she was lucky she had me to protect her from idiocy.

I don't know why, but Cheyenne loves the Caroline Street corridor. I take her elsewhere in the city and she gets out of the car, looks around, walks a block and then goes back to the car hauling me along behind. I have learned to yield to the inevitable and we go straight to Caroline Street directly and she wears herself out happily in this place.

Luckily I keep seeing things that appeal to my eye, I ran into Doug from This Week On The Island and we exchanged notes on the progress of summer and all seems to be well with our worlds and our dogs. Doug is tired of the hotel construction underway across the street from his house and I lamented with him that parking will get really interesting with 96 rooms and 36 spaces.

Then I found what used to be Key West Trip Advisor's most popular restaurant, Garbo's Grille, a form of food truck which used to be parked on Greene Street and did a land sale business, so imagine my surprise when I found myself strolling past the familiar truck now parked on the Simonton Street side. At first I figured it was abandoned but then I looked again and it seemed to be set up for business with the flower pot decorations.

For a short while there the skies cleared as the sun came up and I hoped for another glorious sunny start to the day. I pondered the anniversary September 2nd, much celebrated of the first swim across the Straits of Florida. 64 year old Diana Nyad has been lionized for her 52 hour achievement which I do find a bit odd. I mean by that she is not the first to swim from Cuba to Florida as a 22 year old Australian woman swam across in half the time in distant 1997 but she was inside a shark cage made of wire. At the time Nyad congratulated her limiting herself to telling the press that such cages were "controversial" as she well knew having used one such in another swim in 1978, she said.

On last year's attempt, her fifth Nyad made the crossing without a cage, so not even the most malicious could say she was in any way "towed.". Which seems to have catapulted her into the limelight and the league of winners. Susie Maroney, the upstart doesn't rate. I think it enough to imagine being 64 and swimming a hundred miles in any direction and living to tell the tale. That seems like an ample record.

Aside from all that Nyad's epic swim seems to have done nothing to ameliorate Cuban-American relations, which would have been a nice outcome. With all that done Nyad now is going to walk across this country, not for the sheer pleasure of the stroll but to"raise awareness" of obesity in America. Like we aren't yet sufficiently aware. I like Webb Chiles' attitude toward the business of "raising awareness" this taken from his blog of his latest and sixth round the world sail:

 

Bill in England sent me some links about two men attempting to break the record for sailing an open boat around Britain. I didn’t know there was one. 78 days seems slow to me. Baring mishap, they should do so easily.

However, I am going to criticize them. Not for making the attempt; but for claiming they are doing so to raise money for a charity. That the charity—a very worthwhile one—is so uptight it has disavowed them is irrelevant.

Sail because you want to sail. No pretense or pretext needed.

 

 

"No pretense or pretext needed" are words to live by in this age where everyone is amusing themselves under the guise of being virtuous. On the subject of virtue I saw the parking lot guy at the Pier House staffing his post at the parking lot entrance off Duval Street. His foot in a cast, no pantywaist sick leave for him. Naturally I view sick leave as humanitarian but I am in a minority among stoics.

And then the rain started, as we passed the front of the Customs House and I started steering my still eager panting Labrador back toward the car a dozen long blocks away. We took refuge under an awning so that Cheyenne could catch her breath and we could stay somewhat dry. Not that rain is terribly cold here this time of year but it isn't hot either. So we sat and watched the rain come down, Nature's attempt to clean the city.

I love the sturm und drang of summer in the Keys, wild thunderstorms making celestial light shows, illuminating thunderheads in ethereal pinks and purples, piles of clouds in the sky illuminated like flickering Chinese lanterns. Sudden gusts of wind, palm fronds swishing like surf on a pebbly beach. Sudden catastrophic floods of water from the sky. The greatest show on Earth:

And then it's all gone and summer returns, as temperatures wick back up from the mid 70s to the mid 90s. I love that it rains in the heat of summer and not on frigid, short, gloomy winter days. Rainy season in summer is glorious.

One thing I did notice on my way home...the Boulevard didn't flood! Success! I needed to get home to bed, to sleep, sweet oblivion. My dog was exhausted; mission accomplished.

Big white clouds puffing in under bright blue skies. Heat and humidity as is proper down here about now. Here comes the sun! Ah, Florida!

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