Daydreaming
The days sail by like a Hobie cat on Biscayne Bay, smooth and effortlessly. Time to relax at the tiller and let the breeze take the little cat on a journey to anywhere, with plenty of time to enjoy the warm sunshine and listen to the water splashing against the twin hulls as I glide silently through the crystal clear water and back in time to what used to be.
Pardon my daydreams, but I've been spending a lot of time relaxing and not doing anything of use. When that happens, I occasionally harken back to my early days in Miami when it was close to being a tropical paradise, with the blue waters of the Gulf Stream slipping past the coral reefs just five miles offshore. And the sounds of Cuban conga drums competing with the steel drums of Calypso music which became a backdrop for the multicultural street sounds of Miami.
Yes, some days when my mind is empty of life's normal cares and concerns, I return to those days in Miami when it was a great place to be. Fresh fish was on the menu almost daily, and mangoes, oranges, and avocados grew in every suburban neighborhood. People of all stripes mixed in the tropical heat, Mafia bosses from New York and Chicago, Hollywood movie stars, voodoo priests like the Obeah man from the islands accompanied by his fearsome zombies, and Cuban paramilitary groups like Alpha 66 all mingled together to form the excitement and intensity that set Miami apart during its heydays.
But unfortunately, the proliferation of drugs and outrageously bad decisions by President. Kennedy, who left the Cuban paramilitary groups like Alpha 66 to die on the bloodstained beaches at the Bay of Pigs, and President. Jimmy Carter, who allowed the Mariel boatlift to happen, pretty much destroying South Florida for everyone living In that area for a generation or two.
But all was not lost. I still have my memories of being a teenager, riding my old Cushman Eagle scooter to Snapper Point, using my cast net to catch mullet for bait, and wading around on the flats looking for bonefish to throw a fly at. I also spearfished in the Keys with a homemade spear and a leaky diver’s mask while saving up my meager money until I could afford to buy some flippers at the Homestead Air Force base BX.
Those were tough times, but living in Miami made them special. When I was a kid, I could read an outdoor magazine like Sports Afield or Outdoor Life and see articles about the places that I was actually fishing, places most folks only dreamed about, or visited on vacation.
But nothing stays the same, especially time. And if we try to stay the same, we get passed by and left behind as the world moves on without us. Unfortunately, the world moves fast, and we old folks move slow, not realizing we are being left behind with nothing but memories of the way things were, and never will be again.
Theboondork….Reliving memories of the way things were.
Their 6-foot wingspan can keep the Sandhill cranes aloft with very little effort. And their ability to read the breeze and locate thermals is second to none.
This is my only picture today. I had hoped to visit the local state Park and take some photos, but the day was kind of chilly and breezy, so I put it off until tomorrow, hoping things will improve.