Florida Trip 2010: Life in Key West

I can see why Ernest Hemmingway, Tennessee Williams, Harry Truman and Jimmy Buffet spent so much of their time in Key West. It is an intriguing and charming little city. The old town has kept its charm. New McMansions are not permitted. Duval Street reminds me of a slimmed down French Quarter in New Orleans. The pace is slow, the tourist trade is doing fine and the cruise ships just keep on sailing in. Yesterday Barbara and I took a trolley tour of the entire island. We learned it is only two miles by four miles and has a population of over 23,000 residents. Most of the island is made from land reclaimed from the mangrove swamps. This practice is no longer allowed and it appears what is now Key West will always be Key West. The seafood is terrific. There are many fine places to eat and it appears even more places to drink.

Friday night we ate at the Café Marquesa. This restaurant is cited in the novel I am writing, The Briefcase. It is an upscale restaurant for Key West. No one was dining in shorts, tee shirt and flip flops. We also saw the Mary Immaculate Star of the Sea school where Anna Harte teaches fourth grade in the novel.

While on the trolley tour we learned that at one time Key West had the largest per capita income of any city in the US. The money came from rolling cigars and salvaging wrecks of the reef on the Atlantic Ocean side of the island. Needless to say, those industries are no longer driving the Key West economy. We also learned that Key West seceded from the United States for a short period of time in protest of border closings at the top of the Florida Keys. The Conch (pronounced CONK) Republic was short lived. Our guide told us more about this but, the line between truth and fantasy was getting very jagged as his stories went on.

Today we head out for some nautical adventures!

This is the Key West Bed and Breakfast, our Key West home.

This sign at the airport proudly exclaims Key West's independent status for a brief period in 1828.

Here I am standing near Spong Bob Square Pants maternal grandfather.

Barbara out in front of the B&B on Williams Street.

The Cafe Marquesa from our tour trolley.

Florida Trip 2010: Coral Springs to Key West

I just finished eating my "take out" dinner on the deck outside my room at the Key West Bed & Breakfast on Williams Street in the old town section of Key West. This beats drinking hot wine in a Snuggie huddled in the living room of my Westchester condominium! I got to spend two days with my brother and his wife in Coral Springs, Florida. It was a great visit for us. I am not used to a home with four pets and kept counting them to make certain none were hidden in the room where I was sleeping. I hear that cats can sit on your face and suck the breath of life from you. Their dog on the other hand was looking at my leg with a very wanton look, and this is a female dog! Ahh, how great are the joys of "petdom"?

Except for the fact that 40% of the trip downward on the Florida Keys was in construction zones, it was a pleasant drive. The view for the most part was not as spectacular as I imagined. Mangroves on the side of the road blocked the view for too much of the trip. My first stop along the way was at the Brass Monkey Lounge in a strip mall near a Kmart in Marathon at mile post 50. This is the site of a couple of the racier chapters of my novel, The Briefcase. The bar is a bit seedier than I imagined, but will do fine as the setting I need in my novel. I have some pictures of the Brass Monkey below. I was a little shy about taking photographs since many of the early afternoon patrons appeared to be candidates for the witness protection program.

My next stop was about twenty miles further southwest at Bahia Honda Key. There is a state park on the key that is the sight of the discovery of the briefcase the novel is based upon. After visiting the park, I will have to do some editing to get my protagonist, Chet Harte, to the site of the discovery of the briefcase. The site is even more remote than I imagined. I also stopped at Sugarloaf Key where Chet and Anna Harte have their home. The sun was trying to come out today, but it did not quite make it. The temperature did reach a respectable 68 degrees on my arrival to downtown Key West. The B&B I am staying at is in the Old Town on Williams Street, very close to Duval Street. My next posting will focus on some of my Key West experiences.

No day of golf in southern Florida can start without a stop at Pollo Tropical for chicken wqith rice and black beans for breakfast.

After a week of high temperatures in the 40's, this is typical golf wear for a Floridian. I was wearing slacks and a short sleeved golf shirt.

Whoops, I believe this was a framing error.

This is the photo I meant to take. Two of the chapters of my novel take place in this venue. Classy?

The bar inside the Brass Monkey. The guy in the ponytail testified against the Gambino's. The guy in the cap is his US Marshall.

The band area at the Brass Monkey.

A deserted beach on Bahia Honda Key. Very similar to the area where Chet Harte found his briefcase.

Florida Trip 2010: The Long State

I am writing today's blog from the Sunshine State – still rather cool, but it is sunny. I drove across the sliver of Georgia I needed to cross before reaching the top of the state of Florida. So far this trip I have crossed most of the states on their shorter axis. Florida stretched out before me from above Jacksonville all the way down to Key West. That is about five hundred and sixty-eight miles by car. That is a lot of real estate. The only mountains or hills I saw while heading south on I-95 were two large landfills. With the weather they have been getting in Florida this past week I expected to see chair lifts running up those hills and hundreds of Floridians in ski parkas coming down the new ski trails.

The temperature actually hit sixty-two degrees this afternoon. I remained in jeans and a sweater all day, but did feel the warmth of the sun on my face as I sat poolside with my brother while sipping a rum and Coke. I spent the remainder of the afternoon reminiscing with my brother. We did not solve any worldwide issues but did agree to blame most of our personal problems on our parents.

I look forward to tomorrow and not having to drive all day – well I might be playing golf and will have to do some driving. Hopefully those drives will be long and straight just like today's drive down I-95. I am staying in Coral Springs, Florida. It is sort of an extension to Fort Lauderdale and provides a buffer for that town and the alligators of the swamp that starts at the western edge of Coral Springs. I have yet to see any coral or a spring in the town, but I am certain they are somewhere to be found. I took no photographs today. I will do better tomorrow. I am too tired to keep on writing. Pleasant dreams to all I love and care about.

Florida Trip 2010: The First Dixie States

I have started to model my writing after Ernest Hemingway: I will only post on this trip if I have had enough to drink to dull my mental capacities. If I, like Hemingway, used my full capacities, I would be unreadable. Unfortunately, after drinking, I become, that is my typing becomes uncorrectable!

I am just on the outskirts of Savannah, Georgia -- probably entangled in a petticoat of some sort. I drove over seven hours today and I am feeling the effects of carlag. Unfortunately, two glasses of Shiraz with dinner and two (maybe three) glasses of Myers rum and coke are not the correct cure for this malady. I am what I am. I started this day in Chesapeake, VA at the home of my daughter. I left the house in the chaos of the family getting ready for the school day. I breakfasted in Emporia, VA just before getting onto I-95 South. I set my cruise control at 78 MPH and closed my eyes for the straight tip due south. I did make a mandatory stop at the JR super store in North Carolina. I saw at least fifty billboards urging me to stop. I bought twenty faux cigars and a pair of ten dollar Wrangler jeans (I need to retire my 38/30 jeans for the new improved 36/30 body I have sculpted.). It is amazing what cutting down to 2500 calories per day from 3500 calories will do!

This afternoon after arriving at my motel in the southern edge of Savannah, GA, I took a short trip to the site of the old Savannah-Ogeechee Canal. I was the only guest at this major tourist attraction at 1700 hours today. I lit a cigar and walked the canal for two locks (and no bagels). It was rather spooky, since I was the only one on the property during my one hour visit. The walk goes from the highway to the Ogeechee River through a swamp. (Excuse me. I need another rum and coke.) Ahh, that is better.

Here are some of today's photos:

This photograph above is the essence of North Carolina as experienced on the drive on I-95.

There is nothing in the world that comes cloose to matching Southern hospitality!

Then again, as i entered the canal propety, I did get this additional image of that Southern hospitality!



What in the world was this doing out in the middle of the swamp?


For those very select few that take me seriously, this is a picture of one of the locks on the Savannah-Ogechee Canal.


Many of my "loyal" readers think I make things up. Here is proof of my actual visit!

This is ice on the canal at five o'clock in the afternoon. I am suppose to be down south avoiding the wrath of the northern winter!

Here is where the canal meets the Ogeechee River.

This is why Neil Young wrote:

Southern man better keep your head

Don't forget what your good book said

Southern man change gonna come at last

Now your crosses

are burning fast

Southern man

Never let anyone take a photo at arms length of themselves!

Sorry Barack, There Will Be No Repeat Victory

Chicago roots or not, Obama is not Michael Jordan of the Chicago Bulls. He will have no threepeats or even two consecutive wins. And why not may you ask? It is very simple, after much soul searching the Dickerson Pondit has decided to throw his hat into the contest. I am pumped up and ready for my run. I know this news will delight my slightly to the left of Attila the Hun friends who are already gnashing their teeth over the inevitable second straight Obama victory. This is the brightest ray of hope they have seen in months. On the other hand my other friends, the socialists and (perish the thought) Democrats will be wailing and moaning that my entry will just about make it impossible for the beloved Barack to win once again. Hey, life is tough.

The Pondit is going all out to win next year's Nobel Peace Prize. This year the wise old men in Oslo could not find anyone better than a mini-term US president to nominate for the prize. The word on the street was that there just was not another candidate worthy of the prize. Well that is now taken care of for 2010. Tomorrow, with the help of my blog followers I am launching a worldwide initiative to reunite couples who have lingered in darkness for years yearning to be reunited with their mates and reincarnate to a useful existence. These separated couples come in all colors: whites, blacks, browns, yellows and reds. Some are short and others very tall. They are male, female, gay and straight. They come from the far corners of the world. You see them in the streets of New York and Neiman Marcus in Dallas. I am talking about those unmatched socks in your dresser drawers. You know, the ones you have let slip to the back rear of your sock drawers. Some might be have lost their mate just recently, but be honest, you must have one or two that have been there for longer than you can remember.

I know you are all good people. You have kept those single socks because you love them and could not bear to bring them before your personal death panel and recommend a horrible final solution. Well, once again, when my friends and readers are facing the difficult social decisions that are constantly challenging our very existence, I come to the rescue. Here is the plan that will end this most dreadful and dysfunctional apparel state. Tomorrow is a friend's birthday and the Pondit is invited for a little fête to mark this significant anniversary. Of course, all attendees are told to bring no gifts. That means you have to come up with a gift that is really not a gift and look cool doing it. What less would you expect from the Dickerson Pondit than to resolve this sticky casual social dilemma with a Nobel Peace Prize worthy solution?

I am gift wrapping two of my clean orphaned socks as a birthday gift. Inside will be this card:

Dearest friend, please help me and all the good people of this earth end the loneliness and uselessness of these two socks. They yearn from the threads of their existence to be united with their solemate. If you search your sock drawer and cannot provide a mate for either of these socks, please re-gift them so that reunion remains a sign of hope in their lives. God bless the Dickerson Pondit.

With the help of my blog followers -- all of who are not only trendsetters within their sphere of friends – but caring and loving souls, I hope to reunite millions of unmatched socks by the time the old men in Oslo start weeding out candidates for the 2010 Nobel Peace prize. I am also counting on some homeboy consideration. It is about time the Nobel Peace Prize was awarded to someone of Norwegian heritage. My word, there has to be some Norwegian who can match up to Mother Teresa or Reverent Tutu. From today on I am hyphenating my last name with my mother's maiden name, Lawrensen. If I can get Google to cooperate, the name of the blog might also change, The DickersenPonditsen.

Please, get those gift boxes of socks into circulation! Don't forget to mention the Pondit's name inside the gift box!

PS

If Obama announces the total withdrawal of US troops from Iraq and Afghanistan, you can keep your old socks! He will be the Michael Jordan of Peace Prizes!

Phi Alpha

I just returned from a trip to South Carolina to meet an RPI fraternity brother. For those readers who are not from northern New York State, RPI does not refer to dead fraternity brothers (that would be RIP) but to Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute in Troy New York. I met Jim for the first time when rushing Sigma Alpha Epsilon fraternity in my freshman year of college. That was back before electronic calculators and after the introduction of electric typewriters for those of you who feel more comfortable placing dates on a timeline. Jim was either attending RPI at the time or just hanging around the fraternity waiting to come back to RPI. I graduated from college on the five year plan that included attendance at three different universities prior to graduation. Jim decided not to cram four years of education into five years and took seven years to finish college. I would recommend this plan to any student except those for whom I am paying the tuition. College is a wonderful time. As you get older you realize the time went by much too quickly.

Jim and I have been friends since that first meeting. His wife, Ann, was a sorority sister of my wife at the SUNY at Albany. I was part of their wedding party which was held in the wild and crazy town of Wayland, NY. If any of my readers knows where Wayland, NY is before rushing to Google Maps, they will receive a wonderful prize from the Pondit. Both Jim and Ann are the two people I know who most resemble what they looked like while in college. Ann gets more credit since she finished college on the boring four year plan. In fact as I write this, I am going to ask Jim for a photocopy of his diploma. He might still be working on that undergraduate degree and thus be disqualified for the still looking like statement I made above.

While in South Carolina, Jim and I played five of America's Top 100 Public Golf Courses in five days. Jim plans on playing all one hundred. I am setting my goals on playing the one hundred cheapest golf courses in America. In June and July I drove across the heartland to Jackson Hole, Wyoming and back. I played eleven different golf courses in ten states in thirteen days. I spent maybe $400 on greens fees. Thanks to Jim's quest, I spent $575 in just two days in South Carolina. By the end of the trip, I was liquidating my 401 Plans. Really, it was worth the cost. Reconnecting with old friends is always great. Ann flew in from California to join us on the third day. After Hilton Head and Kiawah Island we spent the last few days in Surfside Beach just south of Myrtle Beach.

Here is another travel tip from the Pondit. Driving from Myrtle Beach to Westchester County, NY in one day is not recommended. Listen to Paul Simon…. "Slow down you move to fast, you've got to make the morning last."

Here are a couple of photos:

Jim and the Pondit in the fairway looking toward the Ocean Course clubhouse on Kiawah Island.

The Ocean Course flag. If you are a golf course with green fees over $300 a round you get a flag. That is a USGA rule.

This is not Jim and Ann. We played the Harbortown Course at Hilton Head with this wonderful young couple from St. Louis. This is the famed eighteenth hole at Harbortown.

After finishing our eighteen holes at the Ocean Course, Jim and I made sure we got the most of out of our green fees by spending two hours at the clubhouse bar and then coming back for dinner in the evening. We were saddened to learn that drinks and dinner were not included in the greens fees.

Brigantine Beach

I am down at the Jersey shore for the week. September at the beach is a found jewel. If you like the beach without crowds, this is the time to be here. I drove the twenty minutes from my timeshare outside of Absecon, NJ past the Atlantic City marina casinos and across the channel to Brigantine Beach. I did the same last evening but only had about thirty minutes at the beach before it got dark. During this morning's return I walked from the inlet at Atlantic City toward Brigantine. I took my time and was gone for one hour and a half. During my walk I saw only five people. I did see at least fifteen dolphins. They were all moving with the current heading south toward Atlantic City. They were in several pods, flocks, schools, gaggles, coveys, herds, packs, agglomerations, droves, gatherings, Each and every dolphin was swimming alone without another dolphin within several hundred yards of another. I did not find any briefcases on the beach this morning or last evening.

Just before I turned form walking north to heading back south to my starting point, I took a piece of driftwood to write a message in the sand. The beach at this point in Brigantine is very flat and broad. All houses are at least another quarter mile from where the sand beach turns to dunes or scrub forest. You really get a sense of isolation here at Brigantine. I wrote a message to a very special person. It was only a few sentences but I had some feelings I needed to express. A few minutes after I put down my "pen" a series of waves pushed the wash further into the shore. An inch of sea water encroached on my message. As the advancing water retreated back toward Iberia, the words had become only faint impressions in the drying sand. After another series of waves and wash, it was as if the words had never been there. I turned out toward the ocean again. I imagined my words mingling with those of others, perhaps Hemmingway's old man or Melville's Ahab or even Jonah. Maybe it is the vast oceans retain all our memories, diluting the bad ones and embellishing the good ones with the seasoning of salt and the garnish of time. It was a good walk.

I'll be back there tomorrow.

Atlantic City at night from Brigantine Beach.

Even a lonely horseshoe crad casts a long shadow in the early morning light.