Construction is harshing my mellow
Looking on the sunny side can be dauntingAs I woke up this morning, fixed a cup of coffee and stepped out onto my porch, I realized something. Someone bought my skyline. My daily morning views of reds and oranges have been broken up by a brand new concrete-block three-story fortress. For those of us who find the simple pleasures of the Keys most attractive, even the sunrises aren't free anymore.Visitors to the Keys right now must marvel at how well we've picked up the pieces from Hurricane Wilma. The trees are greening up, the debris is gone and businesses, while their marquis may still be splintered, have their open signs in the window.The locals can see more detail in the tangible losses - the barren lot that used to be lush with nursery foliage, the RVs parked in driveways that aren't housing tourists...
But what about the intangibles that have been washed away by the storm surge? Many longtime locals rode that big wave right out of town, and others have clung to their flotsam and jetsam to eek out a living during winter season. How many of our favorite shops and restaurants have seemingly gone dark overnight, displacing our comfort of knowing where to get the perfect Cuban sandwich, the happy hour quarter drafts, the locals' discount on a used fishing pole...Tell me it hasn't happened to you. You stop by your little “secret” hole in the wall to order up a foot-long Cuban, no onions, extra pickles, and walk right into a new nail salon, fully staffed by people you've never seen before because they actually live in Florida City and rode a bus into the Keys to earn a higher minimum wage.It's depressing, I know. Not only has your “routine” been interrupted (we're not so different from small children after all) but you never got to wish the previous owners safe travels and good luck. No “glad to know ya,” or even just “thanks.” Their misfortune became someone else's golden ticket.
And yes, we all love to hate the big developers, and even if Sam Walton was an old Missouri boy who drove around his entire life in a beat-up truck, he still left us with all these Wal-Marts and a bigger-is-better philosophy.But, in all fairness, the Keys were spared for a long time. Ever been to Jamaica? Dozens of resorts (whose owners are not Jamaican) are filled with smiling servers pouring rumrunners for the tourists soaking up the luxury. When their day is done, they head back to their shacks, take off their floral-print uniforms, and cozy up with a bowl of beans and rice. Most every tropical paradise has been overrun with developers, and what some are calling “the death of the Keys” was sure to happen eventually.So while all this turnover and change is depressing, change is good, right? (Yes. Unless it directly involves me, you say.) On its face, it looks tragic, like our future's been forsaken for the almighty condo. Well, it has. Blame it on capitalism, baby boomers, Republicans, or Al Gore and his lock box, but it's all America, and to borrow from a saying in Trinidad, “sometimes what's sweet in the mouth can be sour in the bam-bam.”
So forget the blame game, welcome the new business owners as they, too, become locals, and admit that maybe you really need a manicure instead of a foot-long Cuban anyway. Wilma's wrath still remains in many tangible and intangible forms, but the winter season's begun its downward slide. Since we barely got the dead fish off our doorstep before the tourists and snowbirds began pouring in, I think we're all overdue for a big, fat breather.Begin your search for the next best place for happy hour quarter drafts. Never mind that the nursery where you used to buy potting soil and orchids is now a mini-Sahara. Go look for those lucky golden-ticket holders and see what they've got to offer.As for me, I'm still going to stand out on my porch in my robe to watch the sunrise, because even with a big concrete cube in the middle of it, it's still prettier than just about anywhere else in America. Then, as any proper lady would do, I'll wish a hex upon the new house's owner before I start my day.
Know what I'm going to do this weekend to kick-start my attitude adjustment? Go see that good ole boy from Mississippi Jimbo Mathus at the Green Parrot and dance my butt off. The best way to shake the blues is get some.
Jessica Machetta is the editor of L'Attitudes. She can be reached at jmachetta@keynoter.com.
--Here is the link for the Keynoter's online archives containing my previous columns and articles: http://www.keynoter.com/shared-content/search/index.php?search=go&o=0&q=machetta&d1=01-11-2005&d2=03-25-2006&s=relevance&r=Subject%2CAuthor%2CContent&l=20
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