Teach a boy how to fish …
Last week I had dinner with some folks who were — hold on to your hats — native — Sarasotans and Floridians. It was such fun to hear their stories of “old” Sarasota — a place called Byrd’s (hope I got that name right) that used to be a great place for a burger as you headed over to Longboat Key. Smacks — a drive-up restaurant downtown that used to be the absolute in spot for anyone and everyone. Old-style, hand-crank drawbridges; half-built buildings (was it going to be a Ritz?) out on St. Armands where, for years, kids got into a little … and a lot … of trouble; stories of young kids rowing out to the islands near the North Siesta Key Bridge … camping out, drinking beer, and torching up dead palm fronds … just sounded like a simpler, slightly naughty, but somehow more real, time in Sarasota’s history. (more…)
Troll-house memories
Here’s wishing you all a fantastic Christmas — or whatever holiday you celebrate — or even just a fabulous end to a memorable year. I hope you not only remember the good times of the past, but make new memories to remember in the future!
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When I was little, I wanted a troll for Christmas. It wasn’t just me; my brothers wanted one too. Only problem was our Mom hated trolls; she thought they were ugly and pointless. And, in the lean years after her divorce from my father, I’m sure she thought trolls were a luxury in a household constantly in need of new shoes and mittens and hats for three growing children.
One Christmas, though, our mother relented. (more…)
A junkie by any other name
Hi. My name is MC, and I’m an addict. (more…)
A bag lady’s legacy
A little over a year ago I wrote a column about trying to make the transition from plastic bags to cloth bags only (see below). I’m glad to say that it’s been months and months since I’ve forgotten my cloth bags when grocery shopping. I consider this change a present to Mother Earth and encourage everyone to give her the same gift!
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Today I walked out of the supermarket carrying my groceries – some chicken, a frozen dinner, a bag of cat food, and a bottle of salsa. (Sure I can’t convince you to come to my house for dinner?)
Passersby looked at me like I was a thief. And no wonder. I was carrying the items in my hands – no bag.
You see, I’d gone into the store yet again having forgotten to carry one of the three cloth bags that I keep in my car. I’ve been using cloth bags for months – in grocery stores, bookstores, bakeries – ever since hearing Jane Goodall lecture last March. The bags are always there, riding shotgun, ready and waiting for use, but as sometimes happens, today I’d forgotten to grab one as I jumped out of the car.
In the past, I’ve always figured, “Oh, it’s okay to use plastic every once in a while — I always reuse them or put them in the bin for recycling.” Responsible girl and all that.
Then, yesterday, local earth-steward/Sarasota Herald-Tribune columnist Meg Lowman had to go spoil my illusions of little-miss-earth-friendly me.
If you read Lowman’s August 26th column, you learned that a single plastic grocery bag takes 1,000 years to decompose.
One bag? One thousand years?
I had run to the computer to verify Lowman’s statement. Not that I didn’t believe her, but because I couldn’t fathom that this bit of information is “out there” – common knowledge – and that by and large, none of us are even aware of or concerned with that fact. (Or is it just me?)
And, as Lowman pointed out, the question isn’t really “paper or plastic” – because paper isn’t a heck of a lot better when you factor in how the production and transportation of paper bags chews through trees and fossil fuels. And did you know that plastic bags contribute to sea turtle deaths because they mistake the bags for food? I love sea turtles and apparently, I’m killing them!
Today, not even twenty-four hours after reading Lowman’s column, I was standing in front of the cashier who was asking “Paper or plastic?” and I’d once again forgotten my cloth bags on the passenger seat of my car.
“Enough is enough,” I told myself. I don’t have a right to forget my responsibilities to this sweet planet that gives life to magical sea turtles, awesome oak trees, and gentle, lovely butterflies. (And yes, I know how hokey and un-hip that sounds, but it’s true.)
“Paper or plastic,” the cashier repeated. “Neither,” I replied, as I scooped up my groceries and juggled them out to the parking lot.
I got more than a few stares as I walked out holding groceries that looked as if I had lifted them without paying. I felt funny for sure, but at least I knew my forgetfulness wasn’t going to have a thousand-year reign in some future-world environmental meltdown.
Paper or plastic?
Like Lowman said, it’s just not an option anymore. At least not for this bag lady.
All rights reserved M.C.Coolidge 2011.
Salvaging the season … with a little karmic reinvention
Behind in your holiday shopping? I’m not big on consumerism, but if I had to recommend you shop at one place in Sarasota, I guess it would have to be my favorite haunt – Sarasota Architectural Salvage, located at 1093 Central Avenue. Owned by local Sarasotan, Jesse White, SAS isn’t so much a salvage yard as it is a heavenly holding place.
The special treasures found here haven’t died and gone to heaven, they’re just in a little karmic state of suspension waiting for you to reincarnate them in your own home or yard. (more…)
Sexy at any age
My walk on the beach night before last reminded me of all that I love about Sarasota …
Sarasota is a little like a woman on the other side of thirty-eight: still gorgeous enough to beguile on looks alone; but with an alluring maturity that captivates all who see her. We all know Sarasota’s got the looks. But as with any woman really worth knowing – and loving — you’ve got to look beyond the superficial if you want to know her heart and soul.
Sarasota’s heart isn’t found in the fabulous restaurants or the world-class shops, no matter how much they satisfy our lust for luxe. Her soul isn’t found in the halls of the Van Wezel or Asolo Theatre, no matter how much they do for our “cultural coast” bona fides.
Sarasota may knock socks off with her postcard-perfect views: the sexy, blue light that underscores the Ringling Bridge at night; the old-world glamour of the Cà d’Zan mansion; the stunning waterfront bay that is the city’s backyard.
But just like you don’t know a woman until she takes her clothes off, (more…)
New Year’s … past and present
Last night, I walked along Siesta Beach — something I rarely take the time to do. I meandered … mosied … along the water’s edge. Nudged seashells, watched some kind of dive-bombing kind of bird — not a pelican … had the tail of a swallow, I thought. Stood in sun salutation with a ragtag army of gulls, and tried to stand still in a swarm of sanderlings. The best part was I saw a dolphin — a young one — making his way through the water; slipping down under the small waves and then reappearing again a few feet away.
I was thinking of New Year’s Eve — thinking I might make a sojourn out to the beach that night to celebrate the coming year. Thinking that watching the sun go down on 2008, maybe with a shot of Sambuca in my pocket, might be kind of sweet.
Thinking about the eve of the New Year coming up, made me reflect on past New Year’s Eves since I moved to Florida … and that made me remember a column I wrote on the very subject just a couple of years ago. (more…)
Bush immortalizes his legacy in two simple words: So What?
Somebody else is talking about G.W.’s legacy – and if you missed it on World News last night, you’ve got to read this transcript of Martha Raddatz’s interview with him. His admission to Raddatz that al Qaeda wasn’t in Iraq until after the U.S. invaded that country kept me up last night with a sick-to-my-stomach kind of anger.
He sums up his own legacy, the Bush legacy, in two simple words: So what??
I made my thoughts clear on this mofo back in 2006 — you can read about it in my tiny treatise on the difference between disloyalty and dissent — the only column the Pelican Press ever refused to run in my Reality Chick column.
The difference between disloyalty and dissent
This work was written in October 2006 — it’s the only column the Pelican Press ever refused to run in my Reality Chick column space, though they did run a slightly altered version in the op/ed pages.
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Friday, September 27, 2006. High Tea with Sandy and Vern Buchanan. At the Ritz. With extra-special guest, Laura Bush.
“Responsible candidates understand that the men and women of our military are risking their lives for us overseas, and that we must conduct our debate here at home in a way that does not jeopardize our troops in harm’s way,” the First Lady said. She also stated that “People around the world are listening to these discussions.”
Allow me to translate:
“Unless you want to look like a disloyal, anti-American, you better not speak out against the war – and if you do, American soldiers will die and the responsibility will be yours.” (more…)