Aunt Lois is on her way to the Sponge Docks at 830, so I am too. I park by Rusty Bellies, and she’s in the fenced-in parking lot for Hellas Restaurant. We start the morning with her buying a new dress from a gift shop, and then we wander into Fatty’s and talk about the owner’s dog, who the place is named after. Terry and Karley have yet to spend any time near Tarpon Springs, so they meet us for coffee and sweets at Hellas.
I try my first Freddo cappuccino (a strong iced espresso with sugar and frothed milk) and share a chocolate baklava cheesecake with my aunt. After brunch, it is time for more shopping, so the four of us walk through the Olive Oil Co, Jerky Emporium, The Spice and Tea Exchange, and part ways after Susan’s Flags & More. We’ll look at shoes while they walk back to their car so they can have a proper lunch at home while we make a reservation at Hellas.
While we wait the 30-45 minutes, we stroll over to Wine At The Docks and add our home pins to their visitors’ map. I get the text, and soon we are seated with a waiter who likes to tell jokes. The restaurant serves two-for-one deals of tea and water, at least during rush hour, which I think other eateries should take note of. After packing down our gullets, a plate of Greek salad and a gyro each, we need to trudge off some calories.
We take her car to Craig Park and watch the manatees frolic before walking down Tarpon Ave. We peruse a shop or two before we decide to find a new parking spot back at the Sponge Docks. Aunt Lois surprises me with a pair of turquoise turtle earrings, to remember her by, which I definitely will. Having moseyed for a few hours, it’s time for dessert for dinner, and Sweeties is on the menu. I chose scoops of coffee cookies & cream and blueberry cheesecake.
Our stomachs agree that we should have chosen one flavor, so it’s back to the sidewalk for more exploration and digestion. I take her to see the sponge in the shape of an alligator’s head, and she gets a turtle tracking bracelet, in keeping with our theme. I escort her back to her car to get my sauce sampler and she drops me at mine. We say our goodbyes as she’ll go back to Kansas tomorrow. I go to Capt’n Jack’s, where Fallon and Marie (her friend visiting from Temecula) are finishing their dinner.
We finish the night with three hours at Johnny’s Taphouse, where I try a peach drink while we talk about our men (theirs are both back in California) and taking a couples’ cruise in the future. I listen to a girl in the bathroom with a wet foot in her croc talk about athlete’s foot and gangrene. I can only think of the movie Idiocracy, which was delayed two years before release, surprisingly around the same time the shoes became popular.
I found out back in late December, while discussing family history with Aunt Lois, that she would be down near me, northwest of the Tampa metropolitan area, for a wedding on March 1st, and she suggested we should get together. I agreed. I checked in two months later, and although pretty anxious about staying with a friend (with an amazing pool) while their daughter tied the knot, she was excited to see me.
Friday morning, I get an invite to the Strawberry Festival in Plant City. Under two hours later, the fourth out of five girls (my mom being the baby by eleven months) was standing outside my door with the biggest smile on her face. I take a selfie and post to Instagram before bringing her upstairs to say hello to Caleb (who won’t be joining us today). She would be driving us the hour east and somehow manage to get us front row parking (about five car spots from the gate).
We showed our pre-bought tickets, from Publix, and let them have a look in our bags. We were there to shop and snack, so no ride wristbands were needed. We looked at and sat on the Cyclone adjustable-height chair, which would be great if I were in want of another travel-friendly seat. We don’t make it an hour before we are trying strawberry shortcake and splitting a strawberry tiramisu.
We spent the next couple of hours looking, and very possibly buying, hot sauce, a tote bag, an outfit for her great-granddaughter, a clay oil diffuser, and pineberries (white strawberries with a pineapple taste). Aunt Lois does a handwriting personality analysis from a Televac 62000, and we agree with the results, as I’m sure others do with their horoscopes in the back of the newspaper – vague is the way.
We wander into another tent, and my attention is grabbed by a man who calls himself Hilby – The Skinny German Juggle Boy. I’ve seen some of his acts performed by others before, but they have yet to meet his level of hilarity that kept me engaged. At one point, in an effort to get more viewers, “Americans,” he said, “All you can eat at the accident!”
After he’s done making us laugh, we’ll share some thick-cut bacon with chocolate dipping sauce, under an awning. I’m grateful that Aunt Lois is more sun-cautious this time, as I have a memory of being on her boat on a lake all day and her dropping me off at Aunt Gerri’s with a lot of red skin. Next is the museum hall with a strawberry queen dress stand-in and the portraits of every Queen since 1930, minus 1942-47 when priorities were elsewhere.
Ashley Moody was elected festival queen in 1993, elected attorney general, and served from 2019 to January 2025 when she was appointed to the US Senate. There are a bunch of other facts about the festival and portraits of musicians who have played throughout the years. This event wouldn’t take place without the thousands of volunteers who continue to keep this tradition alive and showcasing the importance of proper farming techniques and involving students in the livestock shows.
There is a make-your-own strawberry shortcake buffet, but we will bypass that to sample and purchase more sauces, a hooded blanket, a hair curler, and talk to almost every vendor, even if they don’t sell the adorable boots and sandals in a size to fit our large feet. A guy puts cream on our wrinkly eye bags (that we obviously don’t have) and wants me to dry it with a fan (not wipe off the excess with my finger). We reward our now-younger-looking selves with a gourmet ice pop, a strawberry datil for me, from The Hyppo, with a location in Hyde Park Village in Tampa.
Another great vendor, cookingwithbleu, makes pasta in fun flavors like key lime curry, strawberry, espresso, and jalapeno lime. We talked with a sheriff doing a fundraiser, and when I asked about a photo-op in the backseat of the cruiser he said I could punch his partner and have it arranged. I’m not looking for a permanent position. I thought about the conversation later and wondered if anyone would see his bodycam footage.
We stayed until seating began for the Reba McEntire concert and agreed that we had not drunk enough water while the sun was up. On the return, I get to listen to her and Aunt Janet discuss plans for their summer trip to Europe. I’m excited for them. We talk about the last ten years (how long it’s been since she lost another sister and me a mom – though I know exactly where she is). Aunt Lois dropped me off at 9pm, five miles from where she picked me up, and met my friends Al, Terry, and Karley, who were with Caleb in the hot tub.
While she drove over 20 minutes back to her friend’s house, I went with this hungry bunch to Clear Sky Club Haus for a late dinner – something other than strawberries. We left around 1030, got dropped off at our place, and I walked over to theirs (Terry and Karley are currently our neighbors, which is how we met Al before he moved) to grab Caleb’s shorts, towel, and bottle. This gave me a chance to say hi to their dog, Macaroni, before his evening walk.
The sky is one smooth color of blinding-white grey. The water has the slightest ripples, giving the trees and buildings reflected on its surface a blurry image. The muddy grass at the water’s edge has been topped with sand-colored gravel after a car had to be towed from its sticky grasp. There is a lively male cardinal that snacks and sings just outside our window on a fragile tree. I haven’t determined if it’s a sapling or just a branch that’s left after the two hurricanes passed through. A tiny woodpecker joins him, but no noise is involved in his search for food as a wet sawdust-like hole is already available.
The weather is nice, after dipping into the 30s, even a twenty-degree temperature difference would be kind, but we were gifted more than that. I revel in this climate before the seasonal change brings with it reasons to sweat outside and swat at my skin when I forget the bug spray. I prefer walking outside, which is another reason I will be doing so much of it this year on the PCT, but I’m also supposed to be training my legs for increased inclines that undulate for days over mountain ranges, so the treadmill calls me in while I live in a state of flat land.
Inside, we vary between using the ceiling fan above us, based on current humidity and temperature, with the sliding door open, the screen between us and the elements. I am not able to hear the gentle key tapping over the whir of the freeze dryer while it works on meals 240+ that we will have shipped to us along the way, thanks to Caleb’s sister, who has also volunteered to join us for a portion and bring me some snacks! We are nearing the end of our food prep and will soon be organizing all the bags into their proper boxes before driving them across the country.
I have started reading more articles about caring for my feet, which books to read on the trail, and the best snacks to have while Caleb fills his time with the water report, fire detours, and best resupply locations. We just learned that the shorter path into Canada is no longer an option, so we will have to backtrack a day or two after reaching the terminus to complete our trek and meet up with Uncle Ed, who has agreed to bring us back into civilization, having been a mountain man a day or two in his lengthy history.
I finished reading Robin, an interesting look into a man I grew up watching but knew so little about as his life was not mine to know. We are currently still listening to On Trails: An Exploration, which explores the footsteps of creatures from ants to elephants, while we drive or meal prep. I’m also reading my book club recommendation of You Like It Darker by an author of books that I own a few of, but only the first six of his 12 short stories and novellas, as others find it more difficult to read a book a month.
I’ve been going through old letters, some from twenty years ago, a lifetime of differences, but mostly, I’m the same person – minus hanging out with people fresh from prison or rehab. I don’t feel the need to lie about the place I live in or the friends I spend time with because my teachers, acquaintances, and mom are no longer around to judge me. Why, then, do I keep their words of best friends forever, their proclamations of unfounded love, and their childhood frustrations of relationship status. It’s because I believed them. I reached out, I remembered, I held on to the idea that somehow I’d be the one to last through the distance and decades of growth and exploration.
I’m grateful to the people I’ve met who know better than me that they didn’t plan on going anywhere except living in an imaginary white picket-fenced home with two to three beautiful children and only one loving spouse. This is more of a dream than a reality for many, and they let me move on so that I could see beyond their walls of limitations brought on by work, kids, ads, social media, neighbors, culture, society, religion, and other local-based beliefs. Caleb’s retirement used to be a mirage to us, something chased in the distance, but now that it’s here, we can revel in each other in all the ways we promised we would.
I sit here in my blue and orange Injinji toe socks, patchwork pants from Afro Caribbean Imports, and long-sleeved green shirt that says, “Donor state of mind” from OneBlood. My phone dings as Fallon takes her kids out to try a Japanese dessert place, Karley and I discuss new drinks while she’s in Orlando, Mitchell invites me to celebrate his son’s second birthday, Cheryl wants to try a new bar with live music, and Dean called, so I will have to call him back. Caleb is on the phone with Jessi now, letting her know about the change of plans for Canada, which we will need more food to accommodate.
As for the letters, I agree, some things should just be left in the past. This blog was started in 2011 and was focused on the life that Caleb and I had built together. I don’t want who I was to detract from who I am, but I also know that I will look back and not want to forget who I am now either. Some people block out painful memories and move on, others dwell in their pain through pills, booze, aggression, etc. I have edited these letters for the privacy of their writers, and yet I know they will never read them, nor do they still have the responses I so carefully penned, so where do I draw the line on how much I want to remember of people who no longer care about me.
The laughs, the wins, the lessons – that’s the answer. Hold on to what helps, and be grateful that the bad stuff can’t hurt you in the same way anymore. I’m one of the lucky few. I have been variations of homeless or unhoused, I have worn clothes from Goodwill and those found in the street, and I have eaten only Ramen or PBJs for weeks, but I have also shared so many homes with Caleb, stayed nights with family and strangers, bought expensive dive gear and shared food with those unable to get it for themselves. May we all be as lucky to find someone or something worth living for, for I know I have.
On Mondays, visitors are welcome to the Museum of Art, Bayfront Gardens, and Glass Pavilion for free. Paid entry to the Circus Museum and Ca’ d’Zan is still required. It’s about an hour and a half from our place, so we figured it would be a lovely afternoon out. We waited in line to give our zip code and number in our party before going upstairs for coffee.
Caleb with coffee by Ca’ d’Zan
The Rose Garden was completed in 1913 and includes varieties that date back to 1793, even though none of the hundreds of original roses planted survive. Today, we are only met by the courting couples sculptures that were acquired in Europe and line the crushed-shell paths. Mabel’s secret garden is informal and charming, and able to provide for the lifecycle of a butterfly. I would describe the area as verdant with pops of maroon and dirty lemon against the gray bricks and marble statues.
Clockwise: Libbi Ponce, Joo Yeon Woo, Michael Vasquez, and William Pachner
John and Mable were around between 1866 and 1936, making it to the ages of 70 and 54, respectively. They chose an excellent location for their winter home, completed in 1926 after two years of construction on 56 rooms within 36,000 square feet. It’s a stunning piece of architecture from the outside, and I can appreciate leaving the interior a mystery until a later date. The reflecting pool is in a bit of disrepair, but new blue tiles are coming soon, so I’m sure that will only improve its appeal.
We are able to walk around to the back side of the mansion, Ca’ d’Zan, and take in the Sarasota Bay and wonder what types of sea vessels were parked before the elegant staircase that is currently blocked off. I’m glad that I have pictures to help with the description, or I’d be staring at Long Boat Key too, but I’d be thinking of adjectives for the blue glass, brown stone, and painted inlays that set this place apart from anything I’ve seen in Florida.
We watch a Great Blue Heron keep an eye on us for a while, and though he can grow to over five feet, he will only weigh about five pounds. I love animals in their natural environment, or making do with what they have left, and appreciate when they let me see how they survive for a bit. I think about how different species catch fish – strolling the shore, diving in, waiting patiently, and working together.
stoneware
Japanese sword guards
We enter the Museum of Art via the Searing Wing. There is a painting by Jake Fernandez, who uses interlocking, wooden bas-relief panels to portray his landscapes, which appear to shift. Carol Mickett and Robert Stackhouse are more focused on water and social change, so their art is a large-scale map of the waters of Florida. These artists are part of the Skyway 2024: A Contemporary Collaboration that celebrates recent artwork from the Tamba Bay region.
Mickalene Thomas prefers to focus on the feminist movement with her rhinestone portrait from 2009 paired with a soundtrack from 1957 based on a speech given in 1851, encapsulating an idea of womanhood and how perception of women’s rights has changed over the generations. Jake Troyli takes on the issue of commodification of Black and Brown bodies, exploring masculinity and identity. His oil on canvas shows a brown, headless, and naked body with an older man in a suit clinging in despair. We explored the tiered courtyard before making our way through the Dwarf Garden.
The Florida Botanical Gardens in Largo is twenty miles from our place and has free admission. There are over a hundred acres to explore – art installations, Florida-flavored water, paintings for sale, and bird watching.
Heritage Village is under half a mile between parking lots and separated by a creek. This living history museum offers 28 structures on 21 acres. There’s a log cabin from Clearwater built in the 1850s, the 1924 Gandy Tower from the first bridge to connect St. Pete to Tampa, and a 1930s sponge warehouse from Tarpon Springs among their collection of temporal and geographical representations of Pinellas County.
The Safety Harbor Church is simple, exactly what the builders had in mind, and early members have left their names in the community. The church was built in 1905, repositioned via hurricane in 1921, and relocated here in 1977. During its 97 years of service, there were 41 pastors and only five organists.
We walk around from the back door to the front, on the porch, before we are invited in, on the other side, for a docent-led tour of the House of Seven Gables, built in 1907 in Queen Anne Style with 13 rooms consisting of heart pine panelling. This part of the tree requires 30 years of growth, so it’s more likely to be found in reclaimed wood than in fresh sawn. The house was given to the park in 1976.
We are joined by a couple and a family, and the tour begins. The dining room is my favorite, with built-in cabinets and bookshelves. There is elegance and detail in every room – the wood, textiles, and porcelain. There are a few musical instruments, hung paintings, a candlestick phone, and a Hoosier cabinet with a grain mill. I’m ready to move in as the docent ensures our departure.
There’s a bright orange caboose (from the Seaboard Coast Line), an idea in the 1840s to house the engineer, fireman, conductor, and two brakemen who would manually stop each car as the train slowed to a stop. In the 1870s, those men would use flags to signal the engineer. Bright painted steel replaced the weaker and more flammable wooden crummy in the 1920s. With the invention of radios and computers, the way cars are becoming extinct.
The H.C. Smith Store was run from 1915 to 1955 under various names and sold groceries and clothing, with part of the building being used as a butcher shop, bakery, and sometimes as a home for the employees. The store struggled to compete with air-conditioned malls. Today, it still sells soda, and the side of the building houses a barbershop and post office. The space in the back has been turned into a mechanic’s bay with two 1925 Ford Model T’s and a 1928 Model A on display.
