This week in Florida...

February 4 - 5

I gave Ringo a bath and lubed him (he got rained on a few times,) grocery shopped, ran errands and hung out by the pool.  Rode Ringo around the neighborhood to orient myself.  On Friday I had a burger at the bar at the Caloosa Yacht and Racquet Club.  Not bad, but mostly an older crowd of well-dressed retirees.

February 6

A neighbor I met at the pool mentioned the Fort Myers annual street art fair, so on Sunday I donned my riding gear and took Ringo for a spin to uptown.  I parked him under the Pine Island Bridge and walked the art show, nearly a mile long.  The student arts tent had some impressive stuff, and the remainder was various arts, crafts, etc. for sale, with lots of food tents.  It reminded me of a larger version of Grove City’s Arts in the Alley, minus the parade with its marching bands.  Arts in the Alley does not take place next to the yacht basin on the Caloosahatchee River.

On the way home I passed a good-sized neighborhood gathering, complete with multiple barbecue grills, inflated kiddie amusements and lawn games.  I figured it was a Super Bowl party, so I ducked onto that access street and asked what was going on.  Former western PA and Wisconsinites lived in neighboring houses and teamed to throw one massive party for their friends and neighbors.  A man in a Troy Polamalu black and gold #43 jersey tossed corn-hole next to a guy in an Aaron Rodgers green and gold #12 jersey.  They all seemed to be having a good time, but I think “Mr. Rodgers” enjoyed a better evening than did “Mr. Polamalu.”

I returned home and watched the game.  Since both of my kids go to school in the Iron City, I vainly rooted for the Steelers.

February 7

Since I had passed the place the day before, I climbed aboard Ringo and rode to the Thomas Edison and Henry Ford winter residences in uptown Fort Myers.  A very nice staffer let me park my bike at the pavilion next to the ticket booth, as long as I locked it up.  I did so, paid my $20 admission, got my audio tour device and entered the grounds.  A society keeps the houses and grounds in immaculate condition.  The residences feature the abundance of plant life that Edison and Ford brought into the place for decoration and for use as they researched better materials.  You can’t actually enter the homes, but the first floors are on display behind glass or plexiglass doors that allow great visual access to the rooms.  The facility offers a small museum, and particularly impressive is Edison’s laboratory and workshop.  Restorers are working to shore up one wall of the facility, so the curator has temporarily removed all the glassware and lab equipment to the museum until the work is done.  Still, you can see the belt-driven power tools and equipment, the lab tables and their gas supplies, etc.  The two families donated their homes to the city many years ago, and the society can give itself a pat on the back for their painstaking work to keep the places looking so good.  Check it out if you ever find yourself here.

February 8

I did initial reconnaissance of Fort Myers Beach, about 10 miles from the condo.  The beaches are lovely, from the short glimpses I could see from the car.  One must look around any number of fried clam shacks, t-shirt and sunglasses shops, trashy beachfront dive hotels, and everything else I learned to dislike about Florida during the few other times I have visited.  I will cycle there if I return.  I want to check out Sanibel before decide on a beach, but I may have to bike there.  One must pay a $6 toll to cross the causeway, and I don’t want to pay just to drive around for a few minutes.  Bikes are free.

February 9

I decided early to visit the Corkscrew Swamp Sanctuary, an Audubon Society park that encompasses many acres of Florida swamp.  The park features a 2 ½ mile boardwalk that leads one through various native ecosystems, from prairie to swamp.  The place abounds with slash pine, cypress, sawgrass and sedge.  I am no naturalist, but even I noticed an abundance of birds and other wildlife.  A park volunteer pointed out the head of a 6-foot alligator, and just past there I saw a considerably larger gator sunning itself on a small rise from the surrounding swamp.  I certainly felt that Corkscrew was well worth the $10 admission.

February 10

The promise and delivery of rain has kept me inside at the computer today.  I looked up Fort Myers area night spots and settled on a dive known as ‘Bert’s Bar’ that is located in a small town to the northwest called Matlacha.  Try to pronounce that town name.  Go ahead, try.  I thought, Mat-latch-uh, Mat-lack-uh, and a few others.  According to a video posted on line, you’d have to think of Nick Lachey’s little brother Matt to get it right.  Mat-la-shay is how you pronounce it.  Anyway, Bert’s is a classic dive joint that features a short menu and live music.  The locals hang out there but won’t cast an evil eye at the occasional snowbird who wanders in.  Only one problem: absolutely no place to park.  I made several passes and did not see a single spot that did not carry a stern warning of impending towing to any unauthorized parker.  I saw no choice but to turn around and head back to closer to home.  I stopped for a carry-out pizza at a joint on McGregor Boulevard between here and uptown FTM.  I ordered and waited for my pizza.

They guy who took my order soon raced out to make deliveries and told the kitchen guy that I had already paid.  Soon the bloke came from the back and greeted me.  We conversed a moment and soon revealed that we both are former Navy men.  And then something wondrous happened: we both lapsed into salty language that one only hears around ‘old’ Navy men.  A few ‘F’ bombs fell.  This fellow had enlisted several years after I had left the Navy and complained to me how the ‘new’ Navy has wimpified itself.  The ‘old’ Navy celebrated a sailor’s passing over the equator in grand fashion.  Those who had previously made the crossing are called ‘shellbacks.’  Those awaiting their first crossing are ‘polliwogs.’  Shellbacks devised all sorts of nasty surprises for the polliwogs, such as planting an olive in the navel of the fattest, hairiest shellback aboard, whom they call the ‘royal baby,’ and made each ‘wog’ in turn remove the olive by kissing the royal baby’s belly.  They also saved garbage for weeks, stuffed it into a long plastic chute, and made each wog crawl through.  The Navy awarded each new shellback an impressive certificate.  Sailors highly prize these certificates.  According to the pizza man, he crossed the equator while this practice was still in high fashion.  The ‘old’ Navy.  Later in his career, the ‘new’ Navy had taken over and considered those practices hazing and did away with most of them.  Today’s sailors simply get hosed down with water, and may ask any shellback to stop if the wog thinks the language is too harsh.

My ship never crossed the equator, but I do hold a Submarine Force ‘Deep Dive’ certificate.  The crew of the USS Mariano G. Vallejo, SSBN-658, awarded me this certificate when I rode aboard during sea trials.  The crew must take the ship to ‘test-depth’ to make sure it can handle going deep to evade detection.  With me aboard, Vallejo ventured some 1500 feet below the surface of the western Atlantic.  I am very proud of this piece of paper, and was honored that the crew presented it to me.  It bears the signatures of Commander D.M. Lachata, the executive officer, and Commander J.S. Raybun, the commander.

The United States Navy is one of the more tradition-bound institutions on earth, adapting many traditions from the Royal Navy, who adapted them from the Vikings, who adapted them from the Phoenicians.  Yesterday’s sailors taught us, and we in turn taught those who came after us.  It’s the way of the sea, and the way of sailing ships around on those seas.  You may feel humiliated kissing the royal baby’s belly and crawling through garbage, but once the veterans accept you, you fall into a brotherhood that dates back centuries.  Taking that away is a mistake.