Tropical Blunder(s)

Now that Anderson Cooper has provided the world with an interview with one of the Zimmerman Trial jurors, and we have learned precisely why the verdict went down as it did based on her completely uneducated remarks, I feel a need to distance myself even further from the dialogue over the trial and verdict. Let Florida retain its Crazies, I say, and, as with Stevie Wonder, will place a Personal Boycott on the state. Unlike Mr. Wonder, however, I doubt that Florida will ever see my face again with or without the Stand Your Ground law in place.

The laws in Florida, along with a governor who hates poor people and minorities, causes my neck to become stiff from the repeated shocks of what goes on down there in court rooms and voter's rights. I don't need further reasons to see a chiropractor, thank you very much. I'll remain in California – at least for a while longer – and enjoy the earthquakes and fires, instead of fearing that I could end up in jail were I to attempt self-preservation from an attack by doing something aggressive to save my life, as Marissa Alexander did when she fired Warning Shots Only to keep her abusive ex/estranged husband at bay and was rewarded for her efforts with 20 years in prison.

Yeah, I'm White, unlike Marissa who is Black; thus "they" might let me Walk, as the jurors down there appear to like white women, particularly those who may have killed their own children. Nevertheless, I could say something "wrong" to the "wrong" Authority Person and – BAM – find myself cuffed, kicked and verbally abuse-lipped.

It's really too bad about what has been going on in Florida for many years, as I spent part of my childhood living in "surrounding Miami" areas for a few months each year until I was 6. It was lovely then. I still remember how the ocean smelled and can feel the sand pebbles beneath my feet, along with the blistering heat and the agonizing sensation of a very painful sunburn.

Playing in the sand every day with lapping ocean waves within mere feet of my sand castle creations, was a lovely way to spend the winters until I had to go to school….and, when I could take time off for a short visit with my parents when a bit older, the fond memories of trekking to Key West where Turquoise waters of the Atlantic Ocean and the Gulf of Mexico thrilled the visual senses, remain firmly ensconced in my Do Not Erase Databank.

Now, many of my childhood beaches have eroded along with whatever Common Sense may have prevailed in the Overall Consciousness at that time. The classic cynical  view of South Florida (Miami) as a Drug Lord Haven; the horrific hurricanes; the Hanging Chad debacle; the above-mentioned courtroom injustices, have made it easy to forego another visit. When asked by friends in Florida if I'll ever be down there to visit them, my response has become "How about getting together in New York?"

Sad, really. I once thought of Florida as a great place to escape. After an extremely traumatic experience in 1970, I spent two months living in Ft. Lauderdale at the beach house of friends from my hometown. I wrote poetry every day while sitting on the sand; became friendly with a Labrador Retriever who would show up each day from somewhere nearby to play fetch with a piece of driftwood along the ocean's edge with me. What a fabulous way to heal!

I still recall my Birthday Dinner at a Cuban restaurant, El Baturro, in Miami, where my hosts made sure I would be treated quite nicely by the staff with numerous food surprises throughout the evening. And so much more…

Yep. Those were the days when Florida felt safe to me in every way.

While I'm Waxing Nostalgic, it seems like an excellent time to share one of the most interesting, unusual and karmic moments of my childhood experiences which, ironically, occurred in Florida. AND, also ironically, involves Race!

While still in a stroller, my Paternal Grandmother, who was with us for several days, took me for a little sidewalk spin in downtown Delray Beach. It was the very early 1950's when racism was overtly rife and Blacks and Whites did not mix in public. Of course I didn't know that. I was just a Little Baby who had not yet been exposed to societal bigotry that is learned, rather than innate. A person is a person no matter who they were or how they looked.

Along a sidewalk in the midst of a sun-blazing afternoon, I saw a large Black Woman walking in our direction. (My grandmother recounted the story to everyone, as I only have fuzzy images to rely on.) Upon seeing the lady, suddenly I began to cry and held out my hands and arms, sobbing, for her to pick me up. Both the woman and my grandmother didn't know what was going on with me.

Due to societal pressures and certainly a grand surprise to the woman to find a Lily-White Toe-Head Baby Girl wailing for her attention, she was hesitant to touch me. But I refused to let her walk by without taking me in her arms so that I could burrow my little head against her broad chest. Although the woman continued to politely decline in embarrassment and possibly fear, I threw a Major Hissy Fit until she relented. When finally in her arms, I cooed, smiled, giggled and beamed with love. I recall feeling deeply content at that moment. When she returned me to my grandmother and I was placed back into the stroller, I quickly fell asleep "just like a baby."

So, why did I have such an intense reaction? What caused a Little White Baby who did NOT have a Black Nanny to flip-out unless held lovingly in the arms of a stranger on the street who was Black/African-American? My only conclusion years later has become yet another reason why I believe in Reincarnation. I have an idea of where the deep feeling came from for the woman, and it does involve another Life. Regardless of where "it" came from, the encounter was a critical moment in my development.

Florida, in memory, will always be a beaming Circle of Light for me. But not these days. The state was so much nicer then, It's not that way right now.

Have a Wonderful Whatever!

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