Life Sometimes Sucks

I  don't think of myself as being a vindictive man, I am quick to anger, quick to forgive and for the most part quick to forget. Thus I do not think of myself as having many enemies, though I may have more than I think. Nevertheless I work in an office environment and personality clashes are bound to occur usually hidden beneath a thin veneer of good manners. Someone might have intercepted a text conversation I had with a colleague last week and might have overhead me tell him that I would not wish this walking pneumonia even on So-and-So. Must be pretty terrible then came the reply as my friend knows my long standing antipathy for So-and-So, and normally I would not want to withhold the seven plagues of Egypt from afflicting that ill mannered character.  As it is I am starting my second round of antibiotics in an effort to shake this fever and my wife continues to function at half speed with her share of this bug and the likelihood of pleurisy for added fun and amusement. For back up I'm sucking down this crap like it was mother's milk, and my chest still aches.

I have managed to get back to work for a couple of half shifts in an effort to help out my severely short staffed colleagues. They are skittish because they fear infection but are grateful for my presence to relieve the endless rounds of overtime everyone has been sucking up. Overtime is great but this time of year  vacations eat into our supply of available staff and myself and one other getting sick have made things rather tense. 

I confess I am quite jealous of JW who was also coughing a bit but who is now repaired. Why him and not me? I have hardly ridden a motorcycle in a month, what with time spent with my wife and now being too ill to contemplate riding...They know something's wrong when I show up to work in the car. JW decided he knew what I needed and went and got it from Sandy's, the 24 hour Cuban Cafe up the street from the police station. Chicken soup he said, chicken soup it was. The odd thing about this fever is that it hasn't dulled my appetite one bit and indeed I am astonished how hungry I feel half the time. The other half of the time I am too dull to even think of eating or concentrating on any one thing. 

I find myself wondering about this illness more than I normally might. Its effects have been severe and prolonged even though I caught it very early and swiftly and started treating it right away. Normally I enjoy rude good health and I am not much given to taking pills so I have no resistance to medication or any adaptability to antibiotics or anything like that. Yet this strain is refusing to bow down to the power of our formerly invincible medications that have been abused, over prescribed and fed even to the animals we eat, used to bulk them up unnaturally. Now we are told we find ourselves unable to fight disease as we were once able to. I find this slow process of recovery rather intimidating and worrying.

 Cheyenne has continued to get her walks with me tottering out behind her trying to get a small share of fresh air once a day before retreating to my couch or my bed, books being too complicated to read, thoughts drifting as aimlessly through my mind as the clouds overhead. I count myself lucky she is elderly and patient and easily satisfied these days in the heat of August in the Florida Keys. With this illness come the nightmares that accompany the depressed mind of a sick person. My dreams have been stored in my memory more vividly than usual,  technicolor movies of unusual complexity filled with dark themes of decay and abandonment. My boss had a death in her family, a former colleague died of persistent cancer last week and a former girlfriend got diagnosed with a brain tumor. She is one of those women with whom I had a tumultuous relationship decades ago but with whom I have stayed friends and who now, for a while thought she might be dying so she invited my wife and I for a last visit. Death has apparently been postponed or hopefully diagnosed prematurely so the trip to British Columbia is off for now. It is all part of the process of aging, we know this yet the process comes as a surprise. 

So I extend my apologies for the silence on this page and thanks to Gary for filling in. I further apologize for the unnaturally gloomy tone of this start to the week, but my disposition has been somewhat inhibited by my lack of access to the outdoors, to summer swimming, to riding my motorcycle to...you name it pretty much everything that makes Keys summer living cheerful compensation for the crowds of winter and the year  round high cost of living. At this point I wonder if I shall ever get back on my  feet -  well yes I will of course but Good Lord, sooner please rather than later! Of course if you need to seek redress for some slight, real or imagined, my defenses are down and this would be an excellent time! I can only hope I will soon be back on an even and  blogging and photography will resume as normal.

Decorating in Key West

From My Sickbed:

Hi Michael,

"I have run out of essays as I struggle to shake off this awful fever." Well buddy, here in the south we usually take a sick friend a pot of chicken soup or some such nonsense. It is obvious that what your are in need of is not soup but an essay. So said Garythetourist. Thanks Gary.

 

Two phrases never applied to Key West; "Cookie-cutter" and "plain Jane." Those phrases don't apply to the architecture, to the sunsets, and certainly not to the locals. If something is perceived as ordinary, it is quickly adorned and decorated until it fits in with the rest of the funky, quirky island.

 

Naturally, houses are decorated so that a plain white wall demands a gecko...

 

the space between porch columns calls for a necklace of brittle stars...

and one simply can't have a stylish doorway without a fish...

and that fish may reside near the decorated mailbox sporting a manatee or a dolphin or a cat...

And the ever present big green trash can made up nicely with a fish

And next to a utility pole displaying Key West folk art critter things.

Every mode of transportation demands embellishment; a scooter enhanced with Marley and marijuana

While the cage sports images reminding us of the reef as it was in years past

Bicycles tricycles dogs fences and graves and trees and boats and kiosks nothing is free of ornaments baubles trinkets knick knacks and spangle. Everything from the lowly concrete block to the flat horizon; everything is made a bit more special by a bit of art and the unmistakable mark of the extraordinary.

Shine on Key West and avoid the plague of cookie cutter plane Jane like the plague.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Pneumonia Pause

I have run out of essays as I struggle to shake off this awful fever. Normal service will be resumed when I finally get over this nastiness. Soon I hope.

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No Name Monochrome

Photos taken at No Name Key on a walk with my beloved dog.

I was walking Cheyenne in the morning and the sun was rising in the east. I wanted the seaweed washed up under my feet in the picture. The horizon? Not so much!

If you'd like more words check out www.travelandsafety.com for my latest podcast.

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Key West 1938

I happened upon this exhibit of pictures in the display area at the Tropic Cinema. The exhibit itself is on at the Customs House Museum of Art and History on Front Street next to the Westin hotel.

Key West in 1938 was being developed as a tourist destination as a way to revive the economy devastated by the city's bankruptcy in the Great Depression.

Life was not i think a bowl of peaches for people living in Key West, subsisting on public assistance and public works projects. It was so bad the Federal government considered abandoning Key West by forcible evacuation.

And yet the government's administrator  Julius  Stone Jr managed to turn it all around. It was a hell of a story, told briefly in a Sun-Sentinel article reproduced below:

IN JULY 1968, THE KEY WEST Citizen published a news item about the death of Julius F. Stone Jr. Nearly a year earlier, at age 67, he had died peacefully in his sleep in Double Bay, New South Wales, Australia.

Many Conchs remembered him only as a shady lawyer who left the island owing them money. Many others didn`t remember him at all.

They should have, for Julius Stone was the man who almost singlehandedly created the Key West we know today.

If a time machine could whisk a traveler back to the past, he would meet a parade of widely differing Julius Stones, ranging from visionary to scoundrel.

JANUARY 1960 WAS A BAD TIME for Stone. Debts had engulfed the attorney. He had done too much shuffling of clients` money and investments, and the law was closing in. That`s when he decided to slip away to a house he owned in Cuba.

But one problem remained. Stone still had to sell his home, the ``Southernmost house in the U.S.A.,`` which he had bought in the late `40s from novelist Thelma Strabel, author of Reap the Wild Wind.

Working secretly from Havana with the Old Island Realty Co. in Key West and the U.S. consul in Cuba, he sold the oceanfront house for $45,000. Now the trick was to slip back into Key West, complete thetransaction and return to Cuba with his money untouched by angry creditors.

So Stone flew into the Key West airport in a small plane, the deed was exchanged for $45,000 in cash, and off he flew to Cuba. According to one account, Stone never left the plane, slipping in and out of town like a phantom.

Another story, however, says that the plane developed engine trouble, forcing Stone to stay overnight at a motel while repairs were made. The next morning he left Key West for the last time, leaving behind memories, debts, a ruined reputation, and a glorious island city that was a monument to his brilliant imagination.

http://www.arthurrothsteinarchive.com/

The Museum Web Page

Some things don't change much do they? And even then not necessarily for the better.

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The Audubon House

I lived in Santa Cruz,  California for nearly twenty years and looking back I feel like I missed a lot of opportunities to see places and things that deserved my attention. I dare say my natural curiosity took me further afield than might otherwise have been the case but I still stumble across stories of  places and curiosities in the Golden State unknown to me. Here below we look out of the Audubon House in Key West at Clinton Square and the Customs House, now a fine museum.  

 In that time I made several efforts to live in Florida but my residence here never jelled. I would hand in my Florida driver's license and re-institute my California document, or vice versa as I tried living in Tampa and St Petersburg or Fort Myers or Key West and none of the visits to the land of sun and heat took very well. I always ended up back in the fog of California's Central Coast living through cold wet winters and long dry summers which never seemed long enough or hot enough to suit my taste. California residents thought I was crazy to want to live in the land of hurricanes alligators and mosquitoes but Florida for me was the land of eternal sunshine and right wing nutters and it remained as elusive as Ponce de Leon's Spring of Eternal Youth.

My best friend sailed to Key West and the little fishing village I had first visited in 1981 and found to be far too isolated became a likely prospect. I brought my wife and my dogs in a mad three week car trip and we sold my boat and bought an ocean going catamaran and made vague plans to sail to the Caribbean. We both wanted eternal summers, me and my California wife. We made road trips around California and I took motorcycle rides and still I felt I barely scraped the surface of all there was to see.  

In Florida we made a conscious decision to see everything we could want to see and that choice was made easy by virtue of the fact that we tried living in mainland Florida after we arrived in our sailboat. Mainland Florida was cheap but not cheerful and we yielded to the inevitable and settled in Key West, more than 500 miles from the Georgia state line, 800 miles from distant Pensacola. We were far from anywhere. We planned road trips and  we carried them out to see what we could. All this by way of introduction to explain why I have never previously visited the so called Audubon House, named for the painter of birds illustrated below, painted by John Syme in  1826:

The fact is he was a visitor for a short time before the Civil War and in his time in Key West he visited the Dry Tortugas and found birds to kill so he could paint them. It was a weird way to do the work of loving birds but that was what he did. He had an interesting life worth reading HERE but the fact is he was  a mere sideshow in this house that should more properly be known as the Geiger House.

In this picture, from the Audubon House website we see the man John Huling Geiger who had this house built and who lived in it with his wife twelve children and their slaves:

He was of German descent and said to be  a pretty severe man who made his money by wrecking and by being the best at it. He spared no one and the gruesome tale of having a pregnant slave whipped is told by one of his descendants in the video on display in the house. His legacy is the Geiger plant named after him, as well one assumes of Geiger Key and this superb home on Whitehead Street restored in the 1950s and now one of the best old home museums I have seen, and I have seen a few.

The rooms are perfectly laid out with period accessories and  complemented by Audubon drawings and scraps from letters and diaries of the period. I found the house perfectly done and worth hours of your time. Why I resisted visiting this place I cannot say and it was a mistake not to check it out.

Check out this letter from 1849  describing the idle  idyll of daily life for the upper classes in Key West at the time. 

One has to assume that life in summer was a a bit of a burden for women who had no access to bikinis or sarongs or the lighter side of the wardrobe as enjoyed by modern women. 

Thanks to its  strategic position on the trade routes to and from the Gulf of Mexico, Key West was for a time one of the wealthiest cities in the US. The constant stream of ships brought news from the outside world as well as the latest fashions and exotic household gadgets and dry goods. People lived well here in the most salubrious climate in Florida. In those days only Key West and Indian Key were inhabited by white people in urban settlements. The other islands were barren and only occasionally inhabited by eccentrics, lonely farmers or fugitives. Mainland Florida was an impenetrable swamp filled with yellow fever, insects and rebellious Seminoles allied with runaway slaves. No one wanted to live in Florida. Key West offered all amenities and was thoroughly modern.

It must have been quite the life to have money and slaves and to live in such a place. What am I saying? It still is for those that can! The rest of us work...and it still isn't at all bad!

There are we are told some 28 original Audubon prints in the house's collection but the reproductions on display are as lively and lovely as they are difficult to photograph successfully.

 Outside there is a garden to enjoy after the house visit.

 Hammocks and shady verandas were much in evidence in the period.

The "tour" of the house is a brief introduction at the entrance by a docent and then you are cast loose to visit at will the home and the gardens. This time of year is excellent as there aren't nearly as many people as there would be in winter, as usual in Key West. Upstairs there is this video presentation by Richard de Aguero which is both informative and very funny. He lives in Miami and is a descendant of the great "Old Man" Geiger and he tells a great story or two about the goings on in the house. Well worth sitting down to watch.

I had a great time on the house and my hat is off to the curator Katia Dabdoub Hechema whose work is really extraordinary in bringing this place alive and I am told she isn't quite finished yet.

The outdoor kitchen was  a popular feature in the homes of wealthy Southerners and I've seen this concept many times elsewhere. Pity the poor slave cooking in this inferno.

 The link for the Audubon House is  HERE

Highly enjoyable way to spend a hot afternoon and see how the one percent lived a hundred and fifty years ago. Strongly recommended.