HOMESTEAD'S KID PRISON

       There's big money in locking up children. Caliburn Inc. rakes in $1000 a day for every immigrant child it imprisons in South Florida. I got my reminder yesterday.

   
    We noticed this sign on a neighbors' car while camping with friends in the Everglades. Its owners explained they had traveled from Missouri to protest the imprisonment of teenagers at the Homestead Detention Center. 
   You probably know that children continue to be separated from their parents after seeking asylum on our southern border. Some also come with other relatives or, alone.
    The children are kept in facilities in Mexico, others on the U.S. side of the border, and two thousand were bused to South Florida months ago.

   "We are here to bear witness", said Kathy Peterson, who, with her husband Dan, told us what's going on at Homestead's former Air Force base.
    He added, "They've created a prison for 2300 young people, ages 13-17, in your back yard. We're not allowed to meet with them. What we do is organize lobbying efforts and let the kids know we care." 
  Kathy added, "We also stand on ladders so they can see us over the wall. We wave, hold signs, and give them a connection to the outside world".  Most days one of the teens turns 18. They are then handcuffed and taken to an adult facility.

    She got a call from someone with a question, "Can I bring my dog to the
protest?. Kathy answered, "Yes, especially if it is small. Kids love it when we hold a dog on the ladder so the they
can see it above the wall".

     The couple want everyone who opposes our immigration policy to go the prison-like facility to "protest, support the kids and "bear witness' ".  People do this daily from 8 a.m. to 4 p.m. The address is 989 Bouganville Blvd., in Homestead.
    Francesca and I hope to see you there.
          ___________________

LUCKY TO BE ALIVE

         You probably know about the Darwin Awards,   the ones given posthumously every year to people who die doing stupid things. Charles Darwin might say, "It's nature's way of weeding out the dumbest of us".
      I almost got mine long ago but kept it secret. I finally revealed it when I began a new art project with my students. They were asked to write about a memorable event from their past in ten short sentences. Then, they would draw a picture to illustrate it.
    I wrote my story too, about my attempt to built an underwater breathing apparatus. It went like this,

     When I was fourteen I built a diving helmet out of a five-gallon can. I also made a canvas vest loaded with lead to weigh me down. One summer night I tried it out in a motel swimming pool. My family was on a Florida Keys vacation.
      After tying on the weights and helmet I entered the beckoning dark water. It was night. I didn't want anyone around interfering with my experiment.
      Slowly walking towards the deep end I submerged and marveled that -for a while- I could re-breath the air captured inside the helmet.  
    When I was ten-feet under something terrible happened, my invention filled up with water. With so much weight tied to me I could not swim up at all. 
    
    Seeing the pool's ladder nearby I staggered to it, reached the bottom rung, and was able to pull myself up.
    I knew I was lucky to be alive and wondered how my parents would have felt had they found me lifeless in the pool. As I made my way back to our rented cottage I vowed not to tell them -or anyone else-  what had happened.
                              _______

                       _________________ 


              (From the Darwin Award Website)

Honoring Charles Darwin, the father of evolution, Darwin Awards commemorate those who improve our gene pool--by removing themselves from it in the most spectacular way possible.

KING MANGO AND FRIENDS

       Yesterday we had a reunion for the folks that created the Grove's great parade, The King Mango Strut.

    We are the original Mangoheads, the guys who got the ball rolling back in '82. Most of us had played crazy characters on Main Highway dozens of times why others, like Peter O,

  did the extensive background work needed to pull off the annual event.
      For twenty-eight years we were the team that put on the show that entertained thousands. Nine years ago there was an ugly fight, a hostile take-over, and the parade began to change. Half of the original mangoheads dropped out because our usual raucous meeting were not fun anymore. The new organizers wanted to get serious, incorporate, and create their version of the Grove's great parade.

Allan squirrel watching
      But yesterday, we didn't have time to discuss how good things go bad. We were relishing our decades of grin-inducing accomplishments. 
Allan "Jellyfish" Aunapu, 77, came screaming up on his huge motorcycle.  

   Twelve years ago he crawled the entire length of the parade as one of Michael Vick's pit-bulls. Every twenty feet or so, he'd stop, lift his leg, and piss on someone's feet.  Unfortunately, we don't have committed strutters like Jellyfish anymore. Few are willing to crawl six yards much less six hundred.
     For years Keith Root gave his blessings garbed as the Pope. He's one of the few originals that still go to parade meetings but he says his ideas -which always worked for us- are now largely ignored or "die in committee".                   
     Both Gina and Mike McFall are crazy as loons. They can't stop strutting and are still marching as "Barbie & Ken's Parents" ,  "Water Woman and AquaMan" and or the "World's Largest Key Chain Bobs".  (above, Gina with Bobby Ingram)

    Bob Deresz used to pull off such feats as "setting lobsters free" from the Taurus restaurant's salt water tank ( He made his escape on a policeman's horse!).  Once he borrowed a 20' blimp and raced away with his giant balloon.
Bob with his lovely wife, Lynn

    After he changed his wild ways he wasn't quite as entertaining but is still one of funniest guys I know. You may remember Bob as the "Clown in White" with a broom and trash can, the final act in our parade for thirty years.

   Bob on the 2006 poster threatening to "Piratize Social Security".  He is dragging Bobby Ingram, Bob's wife, Gay, and my mother, Audrey Terry, who was a big Strut fan.
 
    
   It was wonderful to be with my King Mango buddies again. Every fall we would meet on Tuesday nights at the Taurus to decide what December's parade would be. 

    
    Now, some are dead (Bill, Wayne, and Bob) and a few others (Kathy, Buzz, Eileen, Peer, and AJ) are still kickin' but were not able to join us yesterday.

    All of the veteran Mangoheads are so loved and appreciated. They made thousands and thousands smile in the streets and yesterday, they were happy enough being together again.
                  ___________________

 





PS:  ITS  ATTIC  CLEANING  TIME- We've got vintage King Mango Posters and T-shirts (about a dozen, mostly smaller sizes) to give away.  Send me an e-mail if you're interested, bettermiami1@yahoo.com.

Once Again, SUNDAY, March 3d, the Grove's Greatest Little Art Show

    For the 21st time, the Gifford Lane Art Stroll will unfold under the majestic oak trees that arch over a little Coconut Grove street named "Gifford".  Its the best thing you can do on Sunday, and, the Grove's best art show every year.

   Maxwell Coyote Azul- pelt and paper-mache

Bring the kids, the dogs, and party with the 70+ artists. Sip intoxicating cucumber punch as you buy affordable art.  Francesca and I will be selling our wares (weird sculptures, fish, Mango Republic t-shirts, and hot banana bread) from noon to five in booth #1.

 

  

 I make them from palm tree seed pods. 

 

       I'm also selling a select few of my paper-mache masks that I have become quite un-famous for (My wife sez there are way too many of them in the attic).

 

     

    It's a super street party and you're invited. Once again,it's this Sunday, from 12 noon until 5:00 p.m. FREE, but punch donations are accepted.  

 

   Park wherever you can, Gifford Lane is a block NE of Coconut Grove Elementary, 2 blocks north of Grand.  We wouldn't want to be anywhere else on March 3d.

                ______________________

THE SPARKLE TREE

       Nothing beats coming home to a happy dog unless of course, you have a sparkle tree.

 

     I got mine by connecting two ideas last year. 
     Nights are dark on Palmetto Avenue. We've got street lights but half the time they're broken. My wife and I remedied this by installing flood lights flipped on by motion detectors. This means when you stepped inside the front gate the yard lit up so you could easily make your way to the front door. 
Now, let's go back forty years for the second idea.
     In the late 70's the Chinese began sending us strings of tiny lights to illuminate our Christmas trees. Unlike the former fat bulbs, these twinkle lights smiled, reminding us of the stars above.

     How wonderful they were. Thirty years ago we began decorating our houses, hedges, and trees with them. Soon, the restaurant districts followed suit. These, small sparkling lights evoked charm until, inevitably, there were too many of them. They're up year-round now, in over-kill mode. These sparks of light have lost their holiday flair. 
      It's the American way I suppose. We discover something wonderfully new, commercialize and expand it until it's not so special.
    But we don't over-do it on Palmetto Avenue. The Christmas lights on our street are up and down in less than a month. The twinkle thing is not overdone.
    It got me thinking about the flood lights out front. When they popped on I was uncomfortable. It reminded me of a scene from a prison break-out movie. Here I was pounded by bright lights, caught in the act of coming home. 
    What if there was a gentler way to momentarily illuminate a yard? That's when I came up with the Sparkle Tree.
    I created mine by stringing a small Barbados Cherry tree with 200 mini-lights. I  plugged them into a socket that once held a floodlight (which  included a motion detector).   

    Lastly, I incorporated the former floodlight set into a fanciful mask complete with air plants.
   
       

   Now, when we arrive our sparkle tree lights up to say, "Welcome home!" After we've made it inside, the tree goes dark until the next time needed. And, as an extra bonus, just inside the front door, there's a happy dog waiting to greet us.

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And in the Nevada desert,
Sparkle Tree, Burning Man, 2017.

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THIS WEEK AT BOOKS & BOOKS

    I am constantly amazed by our Miami-based book emporium, Books and Books.  Yes, they now have a charming branch in the Grove but the Coral Gables original shines above the other with bar, full-service restaurant, and...books!
    And what's more, there are events there almost every night.  On Thursday, you can hear from the author of "Parkland" and ask questions like, "Why can't our country take the necessary measures to keep our children safe?".  The answer will be scary and as disheartening as the Border Wall "emergency", I suppose.  It's good to be face-to-face with the experts like Dave Cullen.

    On Friday, Iko-Iko will be playing in the patio and at 7 p.m. Manny Hernandez will discuss his
new book on photographing Miami celebrities.  I met Manny a few years ago as he was a close friend of neighbor, Charlie Cinnamon.
   There's always something happening at Books and Books.  Here's info on Thursday's affair,

Dave Cullen

Date:

February 27

Time:

8:00 pm

Books & Books in Coral Gables

265 Aragon Ave
Coral Gables, FL 33134 United States

Phone:

3054424408

                 

OPERA FOR THREE

         Incredible things happen in Coconut Grove. We returned from another road trip yesterday. The
annual mega-art festival was winding down so I quickly took it in then returned home to make my own art (the Gifford Land Art Stroll is just two weeks away!).

    I turn on NPR and started  paint another fish sculpture. A moment later the guy behind us began blasting what sounded like a Maria Callas recording.  It was much better than Car Talk so I clicked off my radio to enjoy a familiar aria.  Maria sounded terrific.
    Then, as it ended, I heard one man clapping. I rush to the fence, pushed aside the  fronds and saw an opera singer beginning her next song fifty-feet away.  I thought, "She must be preparing for a performance tonight!"



   I rushed to the house and shouted at my bread-baking wife, "Quick, come with me!". As Francesca and I reached the fence and the next piece was ending we were both clapping.  The lovely artist turned to us, smiled, and took a bow. Her host, a neighbor I had never met, invited us to join them.
  








 Five minutes later we were in Dodo's living room enjoying a sublime operatic performance by our new friend, Joya. I suppose this will never happen again but it did, yesterday, in Coconut Grove.


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