Every Memorial Day Weekend two things happen: I remember those who served and sacrificed for our country. It’s the meaning of the holiday. But then I inevitably traipse off to the beach with family in tow and am reminded of what it means to be a Floridian as summer sets in. It’s the weekend when we Floridians emerge from our cocoons and rediscover a world filled with sun, sand, waves and incredible tans that make us look like coconut-scented gods. And it’s all thanks to the time-honored tricks of the trade we’ve learned from living in a tropical paradise. As I sat on the beach this past weekend, I pondered the rules we know as residents of this sun-drenched state. • Rule #1 – Ice cream always dies a tragic death at the beach. On average, it only takes 3 seconds to wilt a Rocket Pop. Which is why the only time to eat it is at 9:30 in the morning. That’s what the smart Floridians do. It’s the only way to protect your expensive investment. “Dad, can I have an ice cream?” my daughter asked. “It’s 10 a.m.!” I replied. “Why’d you wait so long? You shouldn’t have wasted time brushing your teeth this morning.”
Viva St. Augustine!
There are moments when you realize you are part of history. A piece of something very special and rewarding. Even awe-inspiring. That there will only be one 450th anniversary of St. Augustine, and that it is an incredible honor to play a small role in it, like rowing Pedro Menendez ashore aboard a 16th century chalupa — a Spanish longboat. I love that feeling. There are also moments — not as special or rewarding — when you realize that your authentic 16th century pants are … um … well … on backwards. That the rest of your crew is having a mighty good laugh at your expense.
To the magical hurricane blocker
We have two things to celebrate this weekend: The 450th anniversary of the founding of St. Augustine — hooray! — and the fact that we weren’t struck by a hurricane, or a tropical storm, or any other force of nature. Because for a while last week it sure seemed like that might be in our future, didn’t it? Tropical Storm Erika picked up steam in the Caribbean and got us all in a tizzy. Five-day cones started pointing straight at us. Batteries and bottles of water disappeared off of store shelves. People started rioting in the streets when they realized they might have to eat canned meat. A locust sighting caused panic and cries that it was the end of the world. (Lucky, for us they weren’t locusts at all.) But even the tropical doubters — the ones who think there’s a magical force field over the city that bounces storms to the Carolinas — had to think twice and steady their resolve.
Ways to keep that summertime vibe all year long
And BAM! just like that, summer is over. Every one in the household has either gone back to school, gone back to work or just gone crazy. Even the dog has started carrying a briefcase. The mood is somber. Business-like. Flip flops have been stowed. Tans have started to fade. The lazy starts to the morning have been replaced by something resembling a panicked mob fleeing Godzilla. Oh, summertime vibe, where have you gone? Determined to hold onto some semblance of that relaxed, cherished time — when the living was easy — I’ve instituted new rules in a desperate attempt to hold onto the fleeting feeling. Here is the law I have laid down in my house: • Everyone must wear bug spray or suntan lotion, even if they’re staying in doors. This is to mimic that wonderful smell of summer. Anyone caught not wearing some will be required to don 1980s zinc oxide sunblock on their nose and cheeks.
The first sunburn of summer
The true meaning of Memorial Day is never lost on me — that freedom comes with a price, and that many brave men and women proudly served this wonderful country. But there’s always a second lesson I wish was as easily understood — that the sun is a giant ball of scalding hot gas and it will fry you like a paper-thin sliver of bacon. So as last weekend’s Memorial Day also marks the semi-official start of sun-scorching season, I thought I would share a few tips on how to ensure your summertime sunburn horror stories are something your friends will talk about for weeks: • Make sure when you’re spraying on sunscreen that you do it haphazardly. Just spritz it on like cologne. A little here, a little there. Miss whole sections of your body. This is what I did, and it explains why my shoulders are perfectly fine, but my sides are the color of a fire truck. There’s nothing more ridiculous — and uncomfortable — than a sunburn on your mid-section.
New invention: The pop-up yard
I am using my column this week to officially request proposals from top inventors around the world who are prepared to bring to market (and more importantly, me!) a product that will revolutionize landscaping forever. The proposal I am requesting is for the world’s first … wait for it … Pop-Up Yard™. (That’s good, right? A yard that you can buy to replace your own brown, weed-ridden, unkempt winter yard. Don’t try to steal the idea. It’s trademarked.) Guidelines for proposals will be addressed below. This is a competitive bidding process, and all proposals will be judged on their merit, as well as their ability to submit documentation that does not have any food spills or stains on it. Good luck and I look forward to your ideas. 1. The Pop-Up Yard should be easy to install. I am envisioning something akin to a bouncy house that you hook up to a giant inflator. Or possibly something you unroll across your weed-covered, mangy-looking landscape, revealing a bright, shiny green oasis of spring-time wonder. Extra points will be given for proposals including hummingbirds, the scent of jasmine and a device that prevents my dog from relieving herself in the EXACT!!! location where my morning newspaper lands.
A Floridian’s apology for thinking it’s ‘cold’
I’m sorry our cold isn’t really cold, but the fact is, I’m still cold, and I’m not sorry about that. This is the lament of a Floridian every winter. How we poor, wretched, warmth-deprived beings have to fear how our commentary on the temperature will be taken the wrong way if mentioned in the wrong company. Know what I’m talking about? Happened to mention to a visitor from up north how you feel about our weather — even casually. “How am I doing? Well, it’s cold enough outside to freeze the freckles right off my body!” I will say. You know pretty quickly you’ve made a mistake by the indignation on the person’s face. It is as if Mount Vesuvius is about to uncork. That you are about to be beaten to a pulp for something you have said that is so insulting, so degrading and so blatantly ignorant that it could freeze the freckles right off your body. “Cold?!?” comes the reply, and it’s icy. “You call this ‘cold?!?’ It’s 134 degrees BELOW zero back at my home in Boston. It’s so cold, the ice got frostbite.” Ouch! And then, shivering Floridian that you are, you have to apologize and blush and feel awkward and say things like, “Well, shucks, that is cold! I just meant for us, we bronze-skinned Southern natives who don’t own any clothes that don’t incorporate flip-flops and shorts. We just find it a little … you know … chilly.” By that point we have […]
Oh yes, it gets hot down in Florida, too
I almost forgot what it’s like to be a Floridian. What it means to be a Floridian. How brutal our summers can get. When the heat turns on, coating the land and sticking to everything. A mild spring will do that to you. It will make you forget you’re a Floridian and that you live in a super-charged microwave. It will lull you into a Northern vibe. You know, the kind that makes you think pleasant weather and late-in-the-year cold fronts and light jackets are common. But they’re not. This is Florida. The land where citrus pasteurizes itself on the tree. It gets hot. Scald your hindquarters hot!