Let’s Not Say Goodbye

As I promised myself I would, I awoke before dawn yesterday and hustled by myself down to the pier. I joined a woman who looked a bit like Kathy Bates and four Chinese already anticipating the sun. Two of the Chinese were bundled up as if expecting a typhoon, though the air was warm and humid. All of us were quiet, expectant, respectful of each other’s impending moment. Until a group of about twenty more Americans arrived. Then the place was filled with a nonstop cacophony. Blah blah blah. “Say ‘cheese'” followed by a toddler’s “cheeeeeese.” “Oh come to grandma,” and on and on. So much for a zen moment. Sometimes I think that if people could step outside themselves for just five minutes they would be appalled. Still, I was happy to be there at least to practice a bit more with my camera. I’m going to have to learn more about metering, as these shots reveal. They look more like sunset than sunrise to me.

If I thought anything about the sunrise that might qualify as sublime, it was the almost visceral reminder that we live on an island in a vast sea orbiting a violent ball of gas millions of miles away and that we depend so totally on that violent star not only for life but for beauty. I walked home to the cadence of such thoughts.

The house was quiet for a short time after I returned. Dan had been up to get his requisite coffee but had gone back to his room to watch television or to nap or to read. Foxy was up shortly, though, and he and I decided to go to Banana Cafe for breakfast. (I adore their logo!) Everyone else stayed in bed, so we ventured out on our own. Foxy and I had a nice, long conversation of the kind that I find most . It wasn’t exactly a “hearts laid bare” kind of talk, but it was intimate and serious and true and honest. A conversation between real friends. The omelet was quite good, too.

We followed up our breakfast with a swing back to the condo to retrieve Dan and then a visit to Key West Island Books. We arrived early, so a Starbucks was in order while we waited for the ten o’clock opening time. Once we got into the store, Dan lasted about twenty minutes, The store’s history section was smaller than he had hoped, and it tended to focus on presidential history and World War II—subjects dear to the locals who have shared the island with the military for all of their lives but either old news to Dan or of little interest. Matt survived a little longer, but he, too, eventually petered out. His interest—the arctic—was represented by four books, but he he did enjoy seeing what else the store had to offer. I got through about half of the alphabet in the fiction section—choosing five books along the way—before Matt was ready to go.

• Mr. Potter by Jamaica Kincaid
• House of Sand and Fog by Andre Dubus III
• The Healer by Ahron Appelfeld
• To My Children’s Children by Sindiwe Magona
• The Life and Times of a Teaboy by Michael Collins

Matt and I took the long way back to the condo to find everyone awake. Having decided that they would take a trolley tour of the island, Dan and Alex slipped out just around lunchtime. I’m not a big fan of trolley tours—Mark has cajoled me into one or two—so while Mark hung back to read a book, I joined Foxy and Rob on a visit to a vintage poster shop. Matt visited the shop the last time he was in Key West and has regretted ever since not buying posters to hang in his kitchen. (He didn’t buy anything again this time either because he realized he hadn’t measured his wall space. I think he’s planning to visit the store website when he gets home once he knows what size posters will fit.) I had bypassed the store on several occasions thinking, “Posters. Bah. I want real art, not prints.” What I didn’t realize, though, is that the store sells vintage original—not the clatrap I think of when someone says “poster.” These are true works of art. Many are originals silk screened or printed by hand, and some are more than one hundred years old and very rare. Everything the store sells is a quality piece mounted on linen to preserve it. Among the rarest is a century-old French poster retailing for $3400. I’m pleased Foxy convinced me to stop in with him and Rob. Otherwise, I would have missed seeing some really beautiful work.

We had decided that we were going to take a ghost tour that began at eight, so I kind of cracked the whip about getting to dinner early for once. Sarabeth’s was our choice, but the restaurant didn’t open for dinner until six. I got us there at quarter of and joined the line for tables. As I’ve said before, Key West is not my favorite place for food, and Sarabeth’s didn’t disappoint. Everyone else, though, really enjoyed dinner, so it was a good choice.

We made it to the ghost tour ticket counter a few minutes before eight only to find that the eight o’clock tour had been canceled in favor of the tour at nine. That gave us an extra hour to wander around and brought me a couple disparaging stares for all my trouble motivating everyone to dinner.

I won’t recount all the silliness of the tour, but it was interesting enough. Our guide, Jay, was entertaining. I’m pretty sure he was a Dungeons and Dragons geek in high school but had found a way to make his goth personality pay. He told us stories about a possessed doll, a violent and sadistic ship captain who tried to buy his way into heaven by building a church, a preacher who burned his wife and her lover alive in his church—along with 18 children and a bible school teacher, and a German doctor who married a corpse and lived with her—as husband and wife—for nearly twenty years. Creepy, and possibly highly exaggerated, but an interesting way to spend an evening.

Because the tour went until eleven, I never did get my second slice of key lime pie, That’s okay, though. Five of us spent the rest of the night at a bar chatting and meeting new people, and that’s always the best thing to do in Key West, anyway.

Today while Boston and the northeast are getting slammed by a major winter storm that is shutting down airports, Dan, Alex, Mark, and I are on our way back to St. Petersburg. Foxy and Rob are on their way to Columbus via Orlando. The sun is shining. The sky is blue. The air is salty and pleasant. We’ll spend tonight in St. Petersburg and then head back to reality in Ohio tomorrow morning. Sigh. Until next time.