BAHIA HONDA

   We escaped to an island last weekend, one linked to Miami by the Overseas Highway that leads to Key West.   At Bahia Honda State Park you can have your own piece of beach for a few days, an unparalleled view of the mighty Atlantic. 
   



There's much to do,
an old bridge to climb,







sunsets to see and kayaks to rent. 

  Sunday morning's sunrise was framed by huge mounds of seaweed.

 
It lined up on the shore

in chocolate piles

and patterns.

There can be a downside to camping.  Using sharp instruments to cut apples and chop wood, we both managed to draw blood.

On the drive home we stopped to picnic at Anne's Beach in Islamorada.  

       At first we were thrilled to see the sea turtle off shore.  Minutes later we realized it was dead.

                                       Woman photographing dead turtle
    

We put his swollen eyes behind us, ate the last of the hummus, and headed home.

O

ANOTHER BAD PROPOSAL FOR COCONUT GROVE

       Have you seen the article in today's Miami Herald about city commissioner Marc Sarnoff's proposal to "re-brand" Coconut Grove?  He and a few others want to call it "The Nearby Republic of Coconut Grove Est. 1873".

What an awful idea!

    How do they come up with this stuff? While "re-branding" is not out of the question, this plan is not a good one.        We need a gatekeeper, someone to say "no".  All of us have to say "no" to this lame, unoriginal idea before it gets out of the bag.
    I have t-shirt/artworks company called "The Mango Republic". It is a much better name but we don't need to call the Grove that either.

The Grove doesn't need to be re-branded by,
1) Spending thousands of tax dollars for this silly campaign, and
2) Putting up two dozen large signs that call us "The Nearby Republic of Coconut Grove Est. 1873".

   And what is the problem anyway?   Do we really need to be a shopping mecca?  Why don't we make the Grove nicer for the people who live here and for those who visit?

  
Why don't we improve our parks and parking? Why don't we stop blocking our incredible water views? 
Why don't we improve Scotty's Landing instead of replacing it with a Shula's Steakhouse?

Why don't we build on the things we love about Coconut Grove?  If we make it a better community it will be better for Grove residents and yes,

more shoppers will come.

 The answers seem so simple yet so far away. 

 Write to the BID and Commissioner Sarnoff.  Let them know you oppose their lame idea to "re-brand" Coconut Grove.

Glenn Terry,
"The Nearby Grove Guy, Est. 1947"

PS:  Write to  the BID's director, Manny Gonzalez, at   "manny@grovebid.com". 
 Comm. Sarnoff's at    "msarnoff@miamigov.com".
_____________________________

SETH'S LETTER TO SARNOFF
    In regard to the above, Seth Lefkow sent this
letter to Commissioner Sarnoff ...  


    You want to create a new name to promote  Coconut Grove?  OK, but which cretin picked "The Nearby" name?    There are so many other  choices to consider... Mangoland....... Sarnoffovia.......Gentrification By The Bay...........

   Time was when I would bring my kids to the Grove, visit the Barnacle, buy books at the old book store on Commodore Plaza, have lunch at Scotty's and dinner at the Taurus.  My wife and I would attend the Grove Playhouse regularly and later would usher there as volunteers.  
   I had a magnificent Cat's Eye stone which was made into a lovely ring by a jeweler across the street from the church. My memories of the Grove are many and probably won't fade.

  However, my visits there now are few and very far between.  The Grove in no longer inviting, warm, or friendly.   The bay is only a rumor.  Parking is difficult.  

  

.  You have not done right by the people of your community.
  Where did The Old Grove go? The Dade County pine house that an old friend and her family lived in for  generations is gone.  The shops and folksy restaurants where one could linger, talk, swap stories, make friends are no more.
     Do right for a change.  Use your powers to restore the qualities that have made Coconut Grove a unique and special place.

SL

JABBA IN LOVE- The Final Chapter

        For six weeks we had a gruff, angry sweet potato living with us.  He fancied himself as another "Jabba the Hut" as he resembled the Star Wars character.
      Playing the role didn't win him any friends and last week he got very quiet and quite depressed.  I thought he might find solace in the garden from whence he came.  When I took him there we saw a small red hand reaching out of the dirt.
    Digging carefully,  we brought this cute little red spud to the surface.  She promptly looked at Jabba and announced, "Hi, my name's Patti.  What's yours?"

         The usually self-assured Jabba was flustered but finally got out, "Jab- aaa...Larry".  

   They just stared and smiled for the longest time, like Tony and Maria in "West Side Story".  

   The two new friends then went for a walk.






   

When they returned Jabba (a/k/a
"Larry") asked me to fire up the hot tub.


The two were inseparable. With so much in common  - both lonely, red potatoes with thin withered arms- they fell madly in love.





      Jabba and Patti spent hours having quiet talks in their rocking chair.






Last Sunday afternoon they came into the kitchen and asked Francesca, "What cha' cookin'? 

   Without thinking she answered, "Potato soup".  
That... was a game changer. 

  Their tater faces turned white.

     Jabba asked, "People... eat... potatoes?  I nodded while making it clear we would never eat them. 
  
  Patti Potato shouted, "That is so wrong. I'm outta here!". 

  She scurried back to the garden from whence she came and Jabba followed.


Back in their element they started to squiggle and wiggle.   


Slowly the two  began to sink  into the ground.


I remember seeing their smiles disappear as the last bits of dirt covered them up.






We haven't heard from them since.  

   I think we can assume that they're out in the garden, under six inches of soil, where Jabba and Patti Potato are living happily ever after.
                         ________

JABBA POTATO STRUTS HIS STUFF

        A potato with an attitude.  Who needs that?   We had a gnarly red root living with us for six weeks.  Nothing was good enough for Jabba Potato.

        

If you read the last chapter you know he perched on our Christmas tree for a month.



When he came down we tried to make a place for him.  We thought he'd enjoy 

sleeping with our dog.   As you can see, neither of them were happy and Jabba's  complaints just got louder. 

    To shut him up I agreed to let him bunk with me.
  
 
Bad idea. He snored.




      In the morning I told him I was leaving for a Mango Republic photo shoot. Spudnik insisted on coming along.  
    Once we got there he began badgering me about letting him model.   I thought it was a dumb idea until he added, "How many of your competitors use potatoes in their catalogs?"
   He had a point.
  
   I'll try anything so I agreed to let him join the cast. He was actually quite good at it and, as you can see, looked great on camera.








 
This was his "action" pose.



When I put his pix on the website (www.mangorepublic.org) we expected sales to soar.  Yes, we did sell a few in Idaho but total shirt sales unfortunately took a nosedive.

   Jabba and I were shocked. We  thought this would be his ticket to stardom and garner big profits for the Mango Republic t-shirt company. 

I really thought I was living with the next Mr. Potato Head.
     

    I could handle the disappointment  (I have a day job) but  Jabba took it very, very hard.  For days he sat in the corner, eyes closed, saying nothing.



 
    He was still asleep last Friday when I took him grocery store.  I set him gently in the potato bin hoping he'd wake up happy, surrounded by friends.   
   Suddenly, he woke up, looked around and screamed, 

 
"Get me outta this potato graveyard!".
  
     


I apologized and whisked him home.  I tried putting him by our fish pond next to our meditating chunk of granite.

  
Jabba didn't like his new companion either, "He might be round and red but this guy is bor-ing.  He's got the personality of a rock".

    I scooped him up once more and carried him to the garden where this all began.  It was then we noticed another little red hand poking up from the dirt.

(Stay tuned for the final chapter, 

 "Jabba Falls in Love")

JABBA POTATO, THE ADVENTURE CONTINUES

      Last month I found a talking potato in our garden.  Incredibly, he was the spittin' image of Star War's Jabba the Hut.  I was going to to leave him with the lettuce but he insisted on coming inside.   In the days that followed, we got to know this silly spud much too well.

     Although his English wasn't the best, "Jabba" had many questions... at our first meal, "Why you put food in mouths?".  He then proceeded to  suck up nutrients with his long left arm.








     
 The Christmas tree perplexed him.  He asked, "Why you kill tree for house?"   
We explained Christmas as best we could ending with the star topping the tree. 
      "But Jabba the star", he said, insisting that he be placed at the pinnacle.  We went along to humor him. 
   
   He perched there for weeks.  When friends stopped by, they took notice of the fat, red root and said things like, "Riiight, supa-bad Jabba with a sunburn".  Apparently, these comments went to his (potato) head.

        After New Year's we prepared to return to our teaching jobs.   Jabbacame down from the tree and insisted on visiting my school.  The students were enraptured by the talking tater.   At the end of his lecture, "Underworld Thug", they showed their appreciation.

         



        He got hooked on these new experiences saying  things like, "Jabba all-powerful; he do anything".  He tried riding my  my scooter.  His left arm was so short he could only go around in tight circles.  
    
   

 Jabba Potato wanted to try it all and we were along for the ride.

                   (Stay tuned for Part Three)

JABBA POTATO, THE ADVENTURE BEGINS

       Other than the occasional lizard, it's unusual to see anything moving in the garden.  That's why I found it odd to see the little red hand.
      
    It was jutting out of the dirt, just next to the lettuce, waving ever so slightly.  When I probed the soil around it I heard a muffled voice say, "Ow! Stop that!".   That's when I first met Jabba Potato.
       
    I could see he was of a dark red variety as I carefully lifted him up from his underground lair.  I had never seen one quite like him and certainly never a vegetable with a voice. 
       When he asked in his gravelly potato patter, "Why you callin' me 'Jabba', my name is Larry", I told him his was the spittin' image of Star War's Jabba the Hut.
         
    I went on to explain that Jabba was a fictional crime boss on the planet Tatooine,

a big, bad guy with an insatiable appetite for food, slave girls, and torture.  In retrospect, that was a bad idea.

(Part Two Coming Soon) 

KING MANGO, KING,MARTIN, AND A WHIFF OF PINE

          Here's hoping you're having a mindful MLK Day.  Dr. King was quite a guy.

   King Mango is spending part of the day sorting out a new batch of t-shirts.  Hot off the press,
these feature slightly new designs tweeked a bit to make them better.
     All the sizes we didn't have for much of the Christmas season we now have again.   The women's mangohead shirts are now made of a thinner, softer cotton.  
                                                                    

You can get yours by visiting the Mango Republic store  (www.mangorepublic.org) or by stopping by the king's palace on Palmetto Avenue.

     And speaking of Christmas, don't you miss it?   We had a terrific holiday season and hope you did too.  I try to keep it going by holding on to our tree.   I love being greeted in the morning with twinkling lights and a wonderful whiff of pine.

      My wife, she's different.  It's like, "The new year's here.  Let's get rid of that needle dropper and move on".   
     While she's sweeping up pine needles I'm walking the dog.  As I pass each trash pile Christmas tree I happily inhale its faint mountain air and think, "The sad folks that tossed these are missing out".  Then I gloat a bit about our tree still standing.

     When I drive to work I make mental notes of  houses that, according to their trash piles, kept their houses the least and the longest.   Of course this hierarchy of fortune is promptly forgotten.

       Life is filled with compromises and last Friday my wife and I discussed when our tree would go.  Francesca argued for less needles and more room.  I told her we had a sweet smelling tree that was still green.  This only got me two more days.

    My argument for keeping it until February 14th and festooning it with valentines was not taken seriously. 

      When the two days ended I marched our dear skinny friend to the front corner of our property.  Having left the lights intact I plugged it in.   Glowing in our trash pile, it makes me happy still.   I'd like to think the neighbors, and my wife, feel the same way.