CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND FORTY SEVEN: CAN’T STOP, WON’T STOP

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND FORTY SEVEN: CAN’T STOP, WON’T STOP

This is one of the possible titles for my murder mystery, still in early stages, with my co-author, Jake. Some of you will recognize it as a popular motto for norteno gang members in California, so popular that it is often found tattooed on their bodies. For that reason, I probably will not use this title. For me, it means to persevere through whatever hardship befalls you. For the gang members, it means to continue to rob, sell drugs, assault and kill until they’re dead. Tenacity is the key for both meanings – but mine is tenacity in the service of good and theirs is tenacity in the service of evil.

I’m still a work in progress with my prosthesis, wearing it more hours of the day and trying to walk by holding on to countertops or banisters, when I’m not using the walker. Baby steps. Yes, I know, that conjures up “What About Bob?” and Richard Dreyfuss’s philosophy so fully adopted by Bill Murray’s fear-riddled character. Well, forget about them and think of actual small steps, like the first steps taken by your child or grandchild. That’s my stage of development. And I teeter totter just like that child. This is hard work, but I’m going to learn to do it better and better until I can independently leap tall bushes with a single bound. When I think of all the amputees competing in sports and dancing with the stars and just walking around freely, I know this can be done. It’s just a matter of time – and tenacity.

This 4^th of July weekend the Admiral and I fled Key Largo, which was about to be invaded by very loud, very drunk visitors from Miami, and traveled first to the Giants game at Marlins Park, only to see the Giants give up their slim lead in the later innings for their 3^rd of 4^th straight loss. And by the way, the returning 99 mile per hour fastballer Jose Fernandez, the Marlins darling rookie of the year in 2013, hit a home run – ouch! We flew out of the stadium at the end of the 8^th inning – feeling a little bit like a Dodger fan – and headed to our first quiet stop, PGA Village in Port St. Lucie. When I say we flew out of the stadium, all you have to see just once is the Admiral maneuvering my wheelchair through oncoming crowds at a speed of at least 20 miles an hour – to accept the “flying” term as accurate. Then we headed to the lovely city of Port St. Lucie, very close to the quaint little village of Stuart, where Sunset Bay Marina can be found. We checked into the Hilton Garden Inn at PGA Village, and it was a totally different world. We had silence. Silence. It relaxed the Admiral immediately. There was no outside noise, nothing. We did not turn on the TV the entire time, so our sounds were confined to our conversations (and maybe a little snoring by me, not sure).

We did not awaken until 10 a.m. the next day, July 3. Amazing. Then we went exploring the town of Stuart. The Osceola Café in the Oldtown section was inviting, so we stopped and had a bite to eat. Turns out this place is really, really popular. We got there just before the regular lunch crowd and were able to order and eat without delay. These folks do everything right – their menu is eclectic, the Admiral had a great Reuben sandwich. Their service is spot on. And when they saw me waiting to use the women’s restroom, they offered me the men’s restroom, which “is identical to the women’s”. That’s accommodating! So we were completely refreshed from an amazingly quiet night of uninterrupted sleep and an equally amazing meal at a restaurant that cares about its customers, and it shows. We knew it would be good to get away from Key Largo on the weekend of the 4^th, but we didn’t know it would be this good.

The Admiral decided to take the back roads to Ft Myers from Stuart. Almost the whole way we were on a two lane country highway with trees bowed over our heads, like that short road in Kauai which everyone loves. But this was miles and miles and miles of driving under trees bowing over us. It was very cool. There was little traffic on this road. We were skirting the edge of Lake Okeechobee, north or south, I’m not sure, and we were driving past a lot of sugar cane fields (dammit!). These are the same fields that get burned and send up black smoke which comes down on boats like ours crossing Florida on the Okeechobee canal – I know – this happened to us in 2013, as we headed in Slow Motion to Ft. Myers for a 6 week stay at Legacy Harbor. Big black flakes, like snow from hell. Nevertheless, it was a very peaceful ride through the sugar cane fields, and no burning was being done.

Could anything break up our reverie? We were feeling so fortunate to have left the hustle bustle of Key Largo to head to the land of the Elders – Fort Myers. I think the average age of the Ft Myers resident is about 85. Not so on the 4^th of July. We arrived at the Hilton Garden Inn across from the University in Ft Myers and went to our wheelchair accessible room. Then we clashed with the real world again. Our room was right next to the elevator AND right next to the noisiest ice machine on the planet. I went down to the manager at the front desk to change rooms, and she came back with me to pick up the Admiral, who was waiting on the 3^rd floor with our luggage. We looked a suite that she offered – one bed – not wheelchair accessible, and she offered a wheelchair accessible room with one bed. The Admiral needs two beds on the road, and so we reluctantly agreed to stay with our elevator/ice machine challenging unit. The manager, Amy, felt so bad that she gave us free breakfasts for the three days we were staying there. Free breakfasts are good, but they don’t compare with silence. Over the next three days we had our share of late night ice gatherers – like they were filling huge ice chests at 11:30 at night. We also had 4^th of July revelers shouting by the elevator and down the halls. But these were isolated incidents, and for the most part, our room was livable.

The first day the Admiral got a lot of work done. The second day we went to Sanibel Island and toured the Ding Darling Wildlife Refuge. The Admiral used his Golden Pass for all federal parks to get us in gratis. The third day we traveled back to Key Largo through the Cypress Preserve and the Everglades. There was no tree-covered roadway, but Indian villages popped up every few miles with their grass roofs and high fences, indicating a desire for privacy. They were not tourist traps by any means. Leave it to the Miccosukee to attract the tourists with their huge casino and stores full of trinkets. And there was a fair share of entrepreneurs selling boat rides on the Everglades. These places were packed with cars and buses today – Monday. The feds had a two hour tram ride through part of the Everglades -- $20 per person – but we arrived for 12:30 departure, and it was just too darned hot to even consider. How about a dawn tram ride? I would imagine an evening tram ride would be insect-laden. But those critters are often dormant early in the morning. The Everglades are probably best visited in the winter time – only in the 70’s then. But the snowbirds overrun this fragile ecosystem at that time. Pick your poison – teeming tourists or blazing sun? I guess I’ll opt for the blazing sun.

Now we’re back at Key Largo unpacking and reading mail from April. Don’t get me started. The Postal Service – that’s another chapter.

Happy Independence Day! And very happy July 5^th World Cup Finals Day! How about those women soccer players? Thank you, Title IX, for making competitive women’s sports possible. We still have a long way to go – we don’t have the money that Alabama football or Ohio State football or Florida State football has. And we really don’t need that much to field more women in more sports. Just a piece of the pie – will we ever have half of that pie? I’ll answer that after we elect our first woman President. Until then, support your local girls’ and women’s sports associations.