key west the blog!

another day in paradise - VIDEO

2012-01-28T14:32:00.007-05:00

Its been such a "to die for" beautiful day today I thought I'd reprise this video I shot and put together on a very similar day a couple of years ago.

Enjoy. . .

pictures of paradise

2012-01-22T19:10:00.005-05:00

working man blues

2012-01-16T14:26:00.011-05:00

Even in paradise, everyone has to pull their weight. . .

It's a big job just gettin' by with nine kids and a wife,
I've been a workin' man dang near all my life.
But I'll keep on working,
long as my two hands are fit to use.
I'll drink a little beer in the evening
and sing a little bit of these working man blues.

I keep my nose on the grindstone,

I work hard every day.
Might get a little tired on the weekend,
after I draw my pay.
But I'll keep on workin'
and come Monday I'll be right back with the crew.
I'll drink a little beer in the evening
and sing a little bit of these working man blues.

Sometimes I think about leaving,
do a little bummin' around.
Throw my bills out the window
and catch a train to another town.
But I just keep on workin',
I gotta buy those kids a brand new pair of shoes.
And yeah I'll drink a little beer in the evening,
and sing a little bit of these working man blues.

Hey hey, the working man, the working man like me
I ain't never been on welfare
that's one place I won't be.
Cause I'll just keep on workin'
long as my two hands are fit to use.
I'll drink a little beer in the evening
and sing a little bit of these working man blues.

"Working Man Blues" is a tune by Merle Haggard.
Given all the construction workers working next door that I've met over the past 6 months and my recently out of work state of being, it just seemed right.

Click the link below if you care to hear the real thing.
WORKING MAN BLUES

this&that

2012-01-10T15:52:00.014-05:00

January in Paradise

So it's January in paradise.
The time of year when the cooler weather kicks in and locals huddle back into their cocoons.

Little by little the festive lights lining the streets and adorning the quaint Old Town homes, flicker out. Then somehow, so does the holiday spark in everyone's eyes.

We hang up our "gay apparel" and once again dawn our hair-shirts with the realization that "o sh*t here comes
tax time again".

These are the "grunt months", but there are only four months more to go until we're back on the beach.

Left of Sensible

The Keys, and particularly Key West, have a reputation for being just a little "left of sensible".
(and that's why I like it here)

But when you think about it, it makes perfect sense.
Who was the Spanish explorer who discovered the Keys
back in 1513?
It was Juan Ponce De Leone.
And what was he looking for when he got here?
The fountain of youth. (go figure!)
Our "left of sensible" thing must be somehow genetic.
(or maybe there's just something in the water!)

a new year, a new adventure

2012-01-02T12:11:00.008-05:00

For the past 17 years, here in Key West, there has been a newspaper publication called "Key West the Newspaper".
For the last 12 of those 17 years I've been that publication's
Art Director.

During those years, columnists, associate editors and sales people have come and gone, but mostly Key West the Newspaper was a 2 man operation.
Dennis Cooper, the paper's founder and publisher, wrote the news and I made sure it was fit for print.

Early last week, Key West the Newspaper died.

It never paid very well but through the years Dennis and I were successful workmates, drinking buddies,
close friends, brothers.
That for me was, in many ways, more valuable than cash.

For me, Key West the Newspaper was a good gig
and I'll miss it.
But now it's a new year and time for a new adventure.

Stay tuned. . .

happy new year my friends

2011-12-31T19:53:00.006-05:00

Wishing you all the very best.
a digital illustration by Art Winstanley
"A New Year in Paradise" © 2008 Arthur A. Winstanley

a word from our sponsor - VIDEO

2011-12-28T18:57:00.003-05:00

christmas in key west

2011-12-25T16:26:00.014-05:00

So I went out walking on Christmas Eve.
Mostly to get some evening air but also to see some Christmas lights around town.

I never really know where I'm headed when I wander out on my walks, I sort of just follow my nose and the internal guidance system does the rest.

That particular night, I found my way to BayView Park, which is the place where the official city of Key West Christmas Tree lives, surrounded by a sort of Santa's Village.

While I waited on the corner of Eisenhower Dr. and Truman Ave. for the light to change, a family came up from behind me and stood there also waiting for the light.
They were a family of a Mom and Dad, two small (I guessed maybe 5 or 6 year old) children - a girl and a boy - and their aunt (the Mom's sister).
I wished them a Merry Christmas, the light changed, we crossed the street and all headed into the park.
In the park we went our separate ways. They, to have their family frolic and me, to take a few pictures. I shot around them as best I could as the vibe wasn't right for me to make them the subject.

My subject was Christmas in Key West.
How we celebrate it and the way it looks for a half dozen weeks in a city that never knows snow.

Wandering around town that night, woke the ghost of Christmas past in me.
I relived my mother's butter cookies, how my grandfather lined up bottles of tawny port wine, like so many tin soldiers, under the tree to give as presents and how my own children badgered their mother and I at six o'clock on Christmas morning for permission to tear open their presents

Mine has been a good life. (dare I say, a wonderful life?)
Not without it's bumps and bruises to be sure but getting past the impact of those, is all about attitude and faith and I have plenty of both so, no worries.

The magic of Christmas-time is, at least for a few days, nothing much else matters.
The world seems to be just a little less frenzied, the people around seem to smile a bit more and the mornings (if you keep out of the stores and malls) are just a little more quiet.

The keys to Christmas (no pun intended) are compassion and love. One way or another, the more we give,
the more we receive.

happy merry

2011-12-24T17:01:00.003-05:00

brass balls

2011-12-21T08:58:00.005-05:00

If there's anything I've learned from my [longer than I ever expected it would be] lifetime, it's that there's not a problem this world can throw at you that can't be solved.

All it takes is an optimistic outlook and a pair of brass balls.

o.k, break's over

2011-12-19T08:20:00.011-05:00

Between living next door (and I mean right next door) to a construction site for the past six months that, just about the time of my last post, got incredibly loud with beeping backhoes, roofers hammering, screaming circular saws and the incessant drone of a quartet of orbital sanders that sound like a swarm of large bees.

And the painful drain circling demise of the Key West the Newspaper (my bread and butter graphics/art direction contract), it's very confusing "resurrection by popular demand" and then having to re-design the publishing process as, for now, the BluePaper limps along from week to week.
I've been more than just a little distracted and honestly, not the happiest camper in the tent.

So, true to the rule that says "if you don't have anything nice to say (and trust me I didn't), don't say anything at all" I figured it was best to take a break from my normally optimistic blogging. (and believe me, all the pictures I shot during that break were really gray and gloomy - talk about art imitating life)

Anyway, I always had faith that in time,things would sort themselves out. After all, as the saying goes, " when God closes a door, he opens a window". But in this case that window was on the 14th floor and I don't do well with heights so the sorting out took a little longer than I'd wished it would.

Then yesterday I woke up (a good start), got out of bed, stood out on the porch coffee cup in hand, took a look around and thought, "look at where you live, the life you've made for yourself with caring friends and loving family and hey, you still have your health; get your sorry head out of your ass."

It was time to start dosing myself with some comic relief.
Bill Hicks, Jon Stewart, the Republican "Presidential" debates. . .

By the end of the day, the fog of funk lifted and I was back to my "it's all good" self.
Besides, it's almost Christmas and even and though I've been known, at times, to be an irascible son of a bitch,
I'm no Gingrinch.

So enough already; break's over.

my organic barometer

2011-10-09T20:10:00.013-04:00

A few hours before the weather broke last week, I knew it was going to happen. How I knew didn't have anything to do with meditation, incantation, speculation or rain dancin'.
It was all about Maxine.

Cats live very structured lives.
"At 8AM, you'll find me over here and at 10AM I'll be over there. At noon, I'll come in looking for my daily ration of tuna and from noon to 4PM I'll be sleeping out under the plant stand on our terracotta tiled porch. But at 4PM I'll be back in the kitchen for dinner. . .
. . .And by the way, if you go to the bodega for beer, I expect you to have a dollop of milk in a bowl for me so we can both enjoy a cocktail."

Now most of that, except for the "gimme food" stuff, is her summer schedule. So like I said at the start, a few hours before our clear blue skies and sticky heat gave way to hours of gray skies and cooling rain, Max had again assumed her place on the one of my living room chairs that she believes
belongs to her.
It's a seat she never takes during the summer and it's been a behavior pattern I've recognized for as long as we've been living here together.

And when January rolls around, a few hours before the even cooler weather kicks in, I'll know it's time to start cursing out my drafty jalousie windows again because "my organic barometer" will be curled up under the covers at the foot of the bed.

national geographic @ key west the blog

2011-10-09T19:59:00.012-04:00

Now this is a cool thing, someone at National Geographic Magazine noticed Key West the Blog and took a few minutes to write a complementary comment about it.

A friend told me about it and I thought "go on!" but curiosity got the better of me, I looked it up and sure enough;
there it was. . .
"paradise or paradox, it always depends
on how we look at it."

Click on the logo to give it a read.

who's in the details?

2011-10-03T12:31:00.007-04:00

Some folks say, "the Devil is in the details".

Other folks say, "God is in the details".

The real deal is, it's just us; here and now,
alive in the moment.

What we think and how we choose to live is who we are.

"We are in the details".

There's no demon or deity about it.

hmmm. . .

2011-09-27T15:52:00.006-04:00

Well so, last week was a busy week in ArtMan-land.
Between having to appear in court as a witness on behalf of my good friend, the nefarious Dr. Cooper, trying to remember how to tie a Windsor Knot and wrapping up a months-long project of a mouthful of dental work I needed to get done (don't cringe, it didn't hurt), there wasn't much time to think, or write, about much else. But after a quiet weekend and an extra down day due to rain. . .

I didn't choose to get up close and personal with this thing so I don't know what it is or what it does.
From where I stood it struck me, artistically, as a visually interesting representation of functional industrial sculpture and another illustration of how human-kind exists beside nature rather than in accord with nature.

Left to itself, nature in Paradise, or anywhere else for that matter, doesn't need or want anything.
All it has to do is breathe. Nature is a self-sustaining eco-system. (you knew that)
The air, the ocean, the coral, the trees, birds, fish, geckos, iguana and our freakishly large bugs. . .
Everything just naturally and effortlessly supports
everything else.
Throw in human-kind however and it all gets a little trickier.

We need paved roads, gas stations, electricity, flush toilets, cell phone towers, Dion's Quick Chick Chicken and whatever this thing is.
But when you get real about it, all those things aren't human needs; they're human wants.
Whatever this thing does, it's man-made and so, designed to force a desired result; nothing natural or effortless about it.
(human-kind exists beside nature rather than in accord
with nature)

Our civilization could have evolved just as naturally and effortlessly as the geckos, iguana and the freakishly large bugs. But it didn't and I know, as well as you do, that it's way too late for us to go back to living like Gauguin's Tahitian beauties.
We're stuck with the mess we've made.

I've heard it said (and maybe so have you) that if every bug on Earth (freakishly large or otherwise) died off, the planet would die with them. But, if all of human-kind died off, our small blue marble of a planet would prosper.

Just a little something else to make you think, hmmm. . .

cayo paloma

2011-09-15T12:08:00.013-04:00

Alright, alright, I admit it. I did an illegal thing, pulling off on the shoulder of the road on the 7 mile bridge for a non-emergency stop.

I was driving back down the Keys the other day and out the corner of my eye was Pigeon Key.
Now, I've been there a time or two for the annual arts and crafts festival but never thought it was much to
write home about.
Still, on that particular day, it seemed to be
calling out to me. . .
Artman. . . Artman. . . Artman. . .
(Christ, sometimes I just hate when that happens!!)

Long story short, I was compelled to pull off the road, get out of the car, nearly get creamed by a mile long Peterbilt seemingly doing a million miles an hour and take this
damned picture.
(it was the perfect place to become the proverbial bug
on the windshield)

But I got the shot and, very luckily, still live to tell the tale. . .

Pigeon Key, originally known as "Cayo Paloma" is a small, 5-acre island located off the old Seven Mile Bridge (seen in the background there) just short of 50 miles north of Key West, below Marathon Key in the middle Keys.

Early Spanish explorers named it for large flocks of White-crowned pigeons (Columba leucocephala Linnaeus) that roosted there.

Originally, Pigeon Key was a work camp for the Florida East Coast Railway.
During the building of Henry Flagler's Overseas Railroad Key West Extension between 1908 and 1912, there were, at times, as many as 400 workers housed on the tiny island.

A few of the buildings from the Flagler era remain on the little rock and are now part of the Pigeon Key Historic District.
Today, they serve as housing for educational groups, administrative offices for the non-profit Pigeon Key Foundation and the Bridge Tender's House has been converted into a small museum.

The last thing I wanted to say about Cayo Paloma was a thought that came to me while I was editing the wide angle photograph seen above and has to do with that portion of the old Seven Mile Bridge.
By all accounts, it really is 7 miles from Pigeon Key to the next spit of coral (which I'm pretty sure is Duck Key to the south) and in between there's nothing but water. Can you imagine being on a train, running down that single track, wider than that single track with no railings on either side? Looking out the windows of the train on either side, all you'd see is water.
But for the bumping and grinding of the steel wheels,
I'll bet you could imagine that you were flying over the ocean.

How cool is that?

that sorry day

2011-09-11T10:17:00.009-04:00

"September 11, 2001" © 2001 arthur a. winstanley

I drew this one exactly 10 years ago today between 9 & 10 in the morning while I was watching the events in lower Manhattan on September 11, 2001.

There's not a whole lot anyone can say about that sorry day that hasn't already been said and I'm not even gonna try here. But I did want to pay a moment of homage to all those souls who were, through no fault of their own, put in positions of absolute powerless-ness.
No one human being has the right to put another in that place.
It's just wrong.

I don't believe in the existence of "heaven" or similary, in the existence of "hell".
But karma is our reality. We, all of us, will reap whatever
we sow.

Outside the mainstream consciousness there remains a question as to who is responsible for the crimes of that
sorry day.
I'm not sure we'll ever know for sure and, 10 years gone,
I'm not sure it matters. But whoever is responsible, knows they are; and will, in this life or their next, be fated to
realize a reckoning.

ukulele lady

2011-09-10T08:57:00.024-04:00

This past Labor Day I woke up with a song dancing around
in my head.
You know how that happens. . .
A tune gets caught in the cogs of your mind and no matter what else you're doing or thinking about, the damned song haunts you all day long. You know what I'm talking about.
The song I woke with was "Ukulele Lady", published back in 1925 by Richard Whiting & Gus Kahn. . .

. . ."I saw the splendor of the moonlight on Honolulu Bay;

There's something tender in the moonlight
on Honolulu Bay. . ."

Well, a couple of hours later, after I'd had my 2 cups of morning coffee, the tune was still with me. . .

". . .And all the beaches, are filled with peaches who bring their ukes along; And in the glimmer of the moonlight,
they love to sing this song. . ."

I jumped in the shower, gave my head a good soak and the record just kept on playing. . .

". . .If you like Ukulele Lady, ukulele Lady like a'you;
If you like to linger where it's shady,
Ukulele Lady linger too. . ."

I knew right then there was no getting away from it so I surrendered and decided that being afflicted with a corny tune was as good a reason to take the day off as any.
No Monday thing at the BluePaper, no working the phones, no billing, no nothing. . .

". . .If you kiss Ukulele Lady, while you promise
ever to be true; And she sees another Ukulele Lady
foolin' 'round with you. . ."

I just wanted a long walk.

So I drove up the Keys to the "hinterland" and did
exactly that; walked.

". . .Maybe she'll sigh (an awful lot), maybe she'll cry (and maybe not); Maybe she'll find somebody else by and by. . ."

Whilst walking and feeding Florida's State Bird (the mosquito) with gallons of my blood, my mind began wandering as I wanted it too and it always does when I go walk-about.
And it hovered around school daze. . .

When I was a kid (all those hundreds of years ago), the most Labor Day meant to me was that in two more days school would start. I always thought it was cool that the first week of school was only 3 days long and imagined it was so the nuns could get used to wearing their scratchy habits again after dancing around naked all summer.

". . .To sing to when it's cool and shady,
where the tricky wicky wacky woo;
If you like Ukulele Lady, Ukulele Lady like a'you. . ."

But the first 3 day week of school was cool for us kids.
I mean, it sucked having to get back in long pants, long sleeved shirts buttoned up to the collar and those really sad embroidered clip-on ties but at least, for those first 3 days, we didn't have to do any real school work.
Those 3 days were spent calling role, being assigned classrooms, distributing books, getting to know who your new pain in the ass teacher was gonna be and sitting in assembly for a new school year pep-talk from the monsignor.

". . .She used to sing to me by moonlight, on Honolulu Bay;
Fond memories cling to me by moonlight,
although I'm far away..."

I never did like school. Being cooped up in a room behind a desk (which had a hole for an inkwell no one used anymore) for 6 hours with 30 or 40 other kids and a relic of a nun we nicknamed "Pruney", just wasn't my cup of meat.

". . .Some day I'm going, where eyes are glowing and lips are made to kiss; To see somebody in the moonlight
and hear the song I miss. . ."

All the same, I was good at it. (my parents would have nothing other) But then, about 6th or 7th grade, along came RoseAnne Dechelli. My adolescent testosterone went through the roof, my grades were like "who gives a sh*t" and I turned into the juvenile delinquent I still am to this day.
(". . .and maybe not")

But for all my stomping around in the brush,
I never out-paced that damned song.
". . .Ukulele Lady like a'you. . . . . . . . "

Here's a link to a version of the song in question.
Click on the chick to check it out.
(Go ahead, click on her; you know you want to. . .)

"the condition"

2011-09-03T19:54:00.039-04:00

Just a little political spit-balling from the cheap seats. . .

. . .and, for the sake of this observation, the operative words are " first" and "black"

When Branch Rickey signed Jackie Robinson to the Brooklyn Dodgers in 1947, making Robinson the "first black" ball player to play in the modern era Major Leagues, he understood it wasn't going to be the most popular management decision he ever made.

Both he and Robinson knew that however good Jackie Robinson preformed on the field (and he was really, really good) they both were stepping into a steaming heap of bigoted abuse. So there was "the condition"; Robinson had to agree to just take all the disrespect that would come his way on the chin, without comment or retaliation.
The last thing either he or Rickey wanted, was to fuel the fear driven fires of white bigotry with the image of an angry black man and cloud their vision of the bigger picture.

For 10 seasons Jackie Robinson just played the game (a career total of 1382 games) and no matter what anybody said or did, on or off the field, he never said a word.

He played in six consecutive All-Star Games, six World Series and when he walked away from the game, his lifetime batting average was .311 with 137 home runs, 734 RBIs and 197
stolen bases.
He was inducted into the MLB Hall of Fame in 1962 and his uniform number, 42, was retired across all major league teams, (a high honor in MLB). After he died in 1972, Jackie Robinson was posthumously awarded the Presidential Medal of Freedom and the Congressional Gold Medal.

But for all that success and accomplishment, Jackie Robinson did something so outstanding that the rest pales by comparison. He opened the door to ball players of color and by staying true to "the condition", when he left the game, that door stayed open. Without Jackie Robinson there would be no Roy Campanella, or Willie Mays, no Elston Howard, Reggie Jackson, Rafael Soriano or even Derek Jeter, who was born of a black father and a white mother.

And there's my clever segue to our current President. . .

In June, 2008 as the Democratic primaries were winding down, Barak Obama and Hillary Clinton, the last two Democratic contenders, attended the 56th Bilderberg meeting at the Westfields Marriott in Chantilly, Virginia.
When the meeting was over, so were the primaries.
Barak was offered the Presidency and Hillary was placated with the office of Secretary of State and a future seat
on the IMF.

The powers that really rule the world had made their executive decision. (McCain never really had a prayer, he was just next-up on the Republican roster).
But maybe, just maybe, the Bilderbergs understood the
"first black" President of the United States wasn't going to be the most popular management decision they ever made; and maybe, just maybe, they knew they'd be stepping into a steaming heap of bigoted abuse and so, there was
"the condition"; Obama had to agree to just take all the disrespect that would come his way on the chin, without comment or retaliation.
After all, the last thing he or the Bilderburgs wanted, was to fuel the fear driven fires of white bigotry with the image of an angry black man and cloud their vision of the bigger picture.

In the three years since his election, from time to time, I've been as frustrated with how the guy rolls over for the obstructionist, predominately old white guy, Congress he's been saddled with as anyone else. (Like, when's he gonna grow a pair, start kickin' ass and taking some names?)

The dude signs an "Affordable Healthcare Act" and a "Recovery & Reinvestment Act", repeals "Don't Ask, Don't Tell", sees to the killing of Bin Laden, puts more boots on the ground in one worthless war and takes them off the ground in another, he doesn't invade Libya, he turns 50 and takes a vacation with his family and now he can't even get a
speech scheduled. . .
No matter what Obama does, the obstructionist Republican House only gives him sh*t; and still, the guy never says an overly aggressive word.

It was during the "debt ceiling" mayhem that I started thinking back to Jackie Robinson.
He was the "first black" ball player in the modern era Major Leagues but, he wasn't the last.
Barak is our "first black" President but, there are a lot of other politicians and legislators of color out there on the horizon. Despite anything else, Obama's outstanding achievement is,
he opened the door; and maybe, just maybe, by staying true to "the condition" (whether it costs him a second term or not), that door will stay open and he won't be our last.

reflection

2011-08-25T12:44:00.006-04:00

There's none of my genius PhotoShop magic here;

Just a straight-up reflection of a boat at the bight in the night.

the dragonfly

2011-08-18T21:02:00.007-04:00

Today I saw the dragon-fly
Come from the wells where he did lie.

An inner impulse rent the veil
Of his old husk: from head to tail
Came out clear plates of sapphire mail.

He dried his wings: like gauze they grew;
Thro' crofts and pastures wet with dew
A living flash of light he flew.

Alfred Lord Tennyson

You are made of almost nothing
but of enough to be great eyes
and diaphanous double vans;

To be ceaseless movement,
unending hunger, grappling love.

Link between water and air, earth repels you.
Light touches you only to shift into iridescence
upon your body and wings.

Twice-born, predator, you split into the heat.
Swift beyond calculation or capture,
you dart into the shadow which consumes you.

You rocket into the day.
But at last, when the wind flattens the grasses,
for you, the design and purpose stop.

And you fall with the other husks of summer.

Louise Bogan

deep fried butter on a stick!

2011-08-15T22:57:00.008-04:00

Just a quick one here and no, these are not my photographs.

I looked in on the suedo-political hijinks in Iowa this past weekend and of all the "important" impressions I might have come away with, I came away with this. . .

Deep Fried Butter on a Stick!

Let me say it again . . .
Deep Fried Frikkin' Butter on a Stick!!!

A 4 ounce (a.k.a. 1/2 cup) stick of of butter dipped in some kind of corn-meal batter that's plunged in a pool of boiling chicken fat grease!!

Sweet Jesus Christ on Friday!!!

This is good, but universal health care is not. . .
What the hell are we becoming?

circling the drain

2011-08-11T18:01:00.012-04:00

I'm about to bend one of my own rules here
and wax a bit political.

I read somewhere that the average shelf-life of "global" empires has been roughly 300 years and that their demise has been, more often than not, caused by economic collapse rather than invasion and conquest.

Take Rome for example. . .
By the time Alaric and the Visigoths (the infamous barbarian hordes) came riding over the hill and stormed through the gates of Rome looking for food, there wasn't any food
to be found.
After a century and a half of inept emperors, a Senate corrupted to the point of being dysfunctional and an overextended military, the Roman Empire was bankrupt.

By then, the political and monied classes had long since seen the writing on the wall and moved their interests, any sense of governance and chariot races to hide behind Christianity in Constantinople; leaving the plebeian/proletariat class
(the working stiffs like you and me) to fend for themselves.

Sounding vaguely familiar yet?

In the present American "global" empire, we have a President who ran like a visionary but governs like a functionary.
(face it, Barak is a disappointment)
We have a Congress and Senate that can't, or won't, legislate themselves past their own self-interests and, after ten years of worthless war, a military stretched so thin you can see through it. (oh but we've made great strides in robotic prosthetic limbs)

All our bullsh*t bureaucrats need to do next is move their "seat of power" to the Turks & Caicos to be near their corporate cronies who don't pay taxes and restart the chariot (a.k.a. NASCAR) races there, with Christ on their side.

It might be helpful, at this point, to remember that the American "global" empire is 235 years old.

Only 65 years to go. . .

night lights

2011-08-07T11:39:00.013-04:00

Being out and about around Key West on my once weekly overnight gig for the Blue Paper offers me an alternative perspective on our fair city.

The first thing that can grab you is the quiet.
Even on Duval after 4am, the island is at peace. It's like the rock's daytime energy buzz stretched itself out in a hammock and took a nap.
But Key West, it turns out, is yet another city that never sleeps; at least not completely.

While most of the store fronts and small business offices are dark, the mini-mart gas stations are open 24 hours and so is Sandy's Cuban Coffee on White. The hotel front desk folks are on the job, the cab drivers and cops are always on the prowl and even after the bars close, there are the guys who hose down the sidewalks in front of the bars, the street sweepers and the working girls at the adult entertainment dives.

It's a different brand of people who work the overnight.
A little friendlier, more easy going. Definitely different from the folks in the hustle of the daytime world where I spent the other 6 days of my week. There's not as much going on and all will make the time to stop and chat. The security guard at the Federal building, the front desk dude at Ocean Key, my buddies Donnie and Michael at either of the Chevron mini-marts, the working girls and even the cops.

I've been pulled over at least a half dozen times for nothing in particular and of course they'll do their "official" garbled transmission thing on their shoulder radios with my license in hand but I always get away clean with the impression that all they were really wanting was a few minutes of contact conversation. (they are, after all, alone in the squad car for 8 - 10 hours every night - and, it turns out, cops are people too.)

So as much as the overnight in Key West is nicely lighted in all it's luminous neon glory from dusk to dawn, to my mind, it's really the overnight people who are the real night lights
on our island.

summerland key?

2011-07-31T17:21:00.007-04:00

I don't really know where I was when I pulled off US.1 on my way back from Key Largo the other day.

All I knew for sure was, I had to piss like a race-horse and needed a pit stop.

The marina struck me as very colorful and there was a place nearby where I bought some fresh catch fish that, after I got home, cooked up real nice.

Maybe Summerland Key?
I'm not sure but, if anyone can offer any thoughts,
I'd be glad to know.

yes deer

2011-07-26T12:02:00.010-04:00

Out on No Name Key the other day, I came across this family of Key Deer and got curious. . .

"Key Deer" (Odocoileus virginianus clavium) are an endangered species that live only in the Florida Keys. They are a subspecies of the White-tailed deer (O. virginianus)."

It is thought Key Deer migrated to the Florida Keys from the mainland (where else), over a land bridge during the Wisconsin glaciation that happened from about 110,000 to 10,000 years ago and are not found anywhere else
on the planet.

The earliest known written reference to Key Deer comes from Hernando de Escalante Fontaneda, a Spanish sailor who was shipwrecked in the Florida Keys and captured by Native Americans in the 1550s. (talk about no damn luck at all)

The deer were hunted as a food supply by native tribes, passing sailors, and early settlers but the hunting of Key Deer was banned in 1939 when, after widespread poaching and habitat destruction, their population dropped to less than 50 of the critters.

The National Key Deer Refuge, a federally administered National Wildlife Refuge operated by the Wildlife Service, was established in 1957.
The refuge is located in the lower Florida Keys and currently consists of approximately 9,200 acres of pine forests, tropical hardwood hammocks, freshwater wetlands, salt marsh wetlands and mangrove forests on Big Pine Key, No Name Key and several smaller uninhabited islands.
(It turns out, Key Deer can swim between islands.)

There is also a private organization, the Key Deer Protection Alliance, that takes a hands-on approach to helping protect the Key Deer.

Thanks to all these good efforts, the Key Deer population has grown back to between 500 and 800 critters.

Still, living so close to humans, the Key Deer have little natural fear of humans so, as they roam around unabashed, the biggest threat to them is being turned into road kill if they try to cross US.1. The annual estimates are 30 - 40 kills per year.

So if you're driving through Big Pine and see those brown road signs that say 30 MPH, just think "yes deer" and slow the hell down. You might just save a couple of bucks. (pun intended)

water, water @ IBM

2011-07-21T05:47:00.014-04:00

A kind of cool thing has happened in Artman-land over
the last few days.

I was contacted by a woman in New York who represents an ad agency in Los Angeles. It seems the ad agency's client, IBM, is celebrating its 100th anniversary.
As part of that celebration, they're putting together a
multi-screen/multi-media presentation that will run for
a few months at Lincoln Center in NYC and several other venues before being relegated to a single screen presentation on the internet, presumably, for the rest of time.

As part of that presentation, they had been looking "high and low" for a photograph of the surface of water.
(no, I don't know why)

Of all the hundreds or thousands of pictures they found, they chose a picture I posted on "Key West the Blog" way back in early August of 2008 and decided that, yes, they wanted to
use it.

The young lady asked me if I was cool with it, I said "sure" and happily licensed the piece out to them.

I did have to ask her though, how she found an obscure photograph I took of the surface of one of my ex-girlfriend's wading pools, three years ago.
Her reply was. . .
"don't ever underestimate the power of Google."

It just goes to show. . .
. . .you never know.

Click here for the original link.

the blue hole

2011-07-18T20:23:00.015-04:00

There's not a whole lot to say about "The Blue Hole" up on
Big Pine Key, some 30 miles northeast of Key West.

It was, by all accounts, a limestone quarry that was used for Henry Flagler's Overseas Railroad and the original roads on Big Pine. After all that, it was abandoned.

Today it's a tourist attraction and part of the National Key Deer Refuge. A lake that is mostly fresh water, it has no inlet or outlet to replenish it so, "The Blue Hole" depends on rain water and whatever salt water might flow through the leftover limestone underground.

It's a place alive with life. While tourists and knucklehead photographers, like me, might visit "The Blue Hole" for a few hours on a lazy Sunday afternoon, there are all kinds of other life forms that call it home all year 'round.

There are Key Deer, Green Iguanas, snakes, bugs, birds
and alligators.
. . .Yep, alligators.
I was only there for a few hours so I didn't see one but
the sign says. . .

DO NOT FEED OR MOLEST THE ALLIGATORS! IT IS DANGEROUS!

(. . .You think??)

Anyway, "The Blue Hole" is yet another quiet sweet-spot in the Keys and, like I said, not much of a story but a target rich environment for pictures of God's green,
(or in this case, blue) earth.

conch-isms

2011-07-16T11:13:00.012-04:00

"Most of us can read the writing on the wall but we just assume it was meant for somebody else."

"I know you think you understand what I said but, what you heard isn’t what I meant."

"If people listened to themselves more often, they’d talk less."

"Don’t ever stand up to be counted; someone will
take your seat."

"Before you decide to borrow money from a friend, decide which you need more."

"Some people don’t hesitate to speak their minds because they have nothing to lose."

"Honesty is the best policy but insanity is a better defense."

"Dyslexics of the world UNTIE!"

"Question: is there another word for synonym?"

"Gravity is a myth. The earth sucks."

"Anyone who says sunshine brings happiness, hasn’t developed skin cancer yet."

"The more people I meet, the more I like my dog."

"I never cease to be dumbfounded by the unbelievable things people believe."

"You wouldn’t worry so much about what other people think about you if you knew how seldom they did."

"The early bird gets the worm, but the second mouse
gets the cheese."

"SMILE, it make people wonder what you’re thinking."

"Always remember, you’re unique, just like every body else."

"If it works, take it apart and figure out why."

"Why is the word “abbreviation” so long?"

"All’s well that ends."

celestial dancer

2011-07-10T15:46:00.012-04:00

I was commissioned to draw this piece a few years ago by a girl who had the notion of opening a sort of holistic day-spa.
The work was intended to bolster the spiritual and energetic flow of her endeavor.

It's spacial background acknowledges that we are all, to quote Carl Sagan, "the stuff of stars" and one in a common being. The dancer herself, broken to imply the ancient-ness of the Hindu tradition in which she exists and gracefully positioned to translate our inherent energy on this physical plane of being. The hoops, with respect to order and color, represent the 7 chakras that govern that energy.

Sadly, the day-spa had a short shelf-life and not as many spiritually minded eyeballs as I had hoped, as an artist, saw the piece.

So to share all her spiritual energy and set her good intentions free, I've posted my commissioned Celestial Dancer here.

Enjoy.

. . .and while I'm a bit "on" about commissions, let me mention that I'm back on the "sales trail" and looking for a few more. Please take a minute (and 27 seconds) to watch my video portfolio. If we can work together on anything, feel welcome to be in touch.

Thanks.

Click arrow to start video. Run time, 1:27

fan palm

2011-07-06T12:43:00.008-04:00

There's not much to say here on this rainy day in Cayo Hueso (that's not a complaint, the rain is a good thing) except that
I do enjoy the sight of sculptured plant-life like this.

But fear not, I'll start ranting again tomorrow.

happy 4th. . .

2011-07-04T08:23:00.006-04:00

. . .For the 235th time

SIGN THE DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE

work-boats & live-aboards

2011-07-03T13:54:00.009-04:00

The very first time Key West blipped across my radar screen was back in the mid '80's. I was at the peak of my design career and spending early summers flying out to the week long International Design Conference in Aspen, Colorado.

During one of those trips to Aspen, I met a woman and we spent a few nights together. Over dinner one of those nights, she talked about a subtropical island where she'd spend a week or two to escape her Chicago winters.
That island was Key West.

She went on and on through most of the night, with her melodic voice and so enthusiastically. But I don't remember much of what she was saying.
I was young, she was blonde and beautiful and my attentions were more than a little, distracted.

Later, what I did recall, through the haze of my lust, was "relaxed island life, beautiful tropical sunsets, work-boats & live-aboards". In the years that followed, at least that much of what she said stayed with me.

We made loose plans to meet in Cayo Hueso the following February. But, long story short, I didn't make the trip.
(life's eddys and currents, you know)
All the same, the seed had been sown; and the better part of 20 years later it sprouted. So, with all my northern ambitions satisfied, I headed south.

It's been a dozen years since I made my move. I've never looked back and never saw that blonde beauty from the windy city again. But her enthusiastic stories of "relaxed island life, beautiful tropical sunsets, work-boats & live-aboards" are part of my reality now.

Thank-you Blondie-Blonde, wherever you are!

anne's key west

2011-06-30T20:05:00.007-04:00

Disconnected from the "real world" for as long as I've been, most folks don't know (and sometimes I barely remember) that I have - in my family - 4 sisters and a brother.

That being said, I'm reminded of an insightful comment from my own daughter when she saw us all together at some sort of family function or other; "they're all artists!".

Now, all that being said, let me introduce you all to my sister Anne, who lives and works way up north in Trenton, New Jersey. She is a gifted illustrator who works in pyrography and says this small sample of her ginormous body of work was inspired by some of the pictures I've posted here on Key West the Blog. I am flattered.

If, my friends, you like what you see and would like to see more, she hasn't got the website up yet so, drop an e-mail at: delstanley4@comcast.net

I'm pretty sure she'll be willing to share.

"for love of the game"

2011-06-26T11:20:00.012-04:00

One of the two athletic endeavors I enjoyed during my adventurous youth was bicycle racing.
The other, was baseball.

Little league, Babe Ruth league, a dubious flirtation with double-A ball, pick-up games wherever I could find them and finally, corporate ball.

I love the game.

There was never anything more sublime than anticipating the start of a game at my position in center field at the end of a summer day as dusk fell into night and the stadium lights came on.

Anyway, not long ago I drove a friend out to Northside Drive, here in town, for her annual visit to WomanKind. I knew full well she'd be an hour or so and I also knew that right next door to that colorful complex of doctor's, accountant's and insurance offices was the Clayton Sterling/Rosa Hernandez Complex of 4 baseball diamonds and 1 softball field. But I'd never really scoped it out so, knowing I'd have a little time to kill that afternoon, I took the opportunity.

Now, I've played on sandlots, public park diamonds, in minor league stadiums and even on the roof of a 20 story building in mid-town Manhattan. (a corporate league thing)

I even got out at center field at the old Yankee Stadium a time or two (the house that Ruth built); not as a player of course but goddamn, was that place a cathedral!

My point is, I've seen a few ball parks in my time and I think, that for younger ball players, these 5 diamonds are real gems.

Say what you like about our city government, we've gotta give them credit for creating and maintaining these ball-fields and managing the leagues, programs and clinics for very nearly 800 aspiring major leaguers from the ages of 9 - 16.

Kudos Key West!

hercules & tilly

2011-06-21T15:36:00.007-04:00

Ever since I was a kid, I've always had a thing for TugBoats.

Hercules

The first one I ever saw was in a painting my mother was doing of New York Harbor in the corner of our living room she called her studio on 61st St. in the Glendale section of Queens.

In whatever language my 5 year old brain was speaking, today's translation would be, "that is too cool!!"

I know TugBoats aren't sleek or fast and I never much cared that they're the "workhorses of the waterways".
I've just always thought they looked so cool and seeing them has, somehow, always felt like home.
(something from a previous life?)

The first time I saw a TugBoat up-close and underway, was 100 years later when my 2nd ex-wife and I were on the Staten Island Ferry heading back to the city. A Tug came up along the port side and it was so close I could see the whites of the deck-hand's eyes.

Tilly

I couldn't, in a million years, remember what she and I were talking about at the time but I can remember the rumble from the power of the Tug's diesels, how low she drove into the water and the wake she kicked up at her bow and stern rocked the ferry.
Again, my first thought; "that is too cool!!" and that was followed by, "I want one!"

Of course, at that time, I was knee deep in my corporate career, had the "house on the hill" (so to speak) and all the crap that went with it. So a TugBoat just wasn't in the cards.

But now, all these years later, calmed down and settled in my semi-retired stupor on the Keys, I have to admit, Hercules and Tilly have got me thinkin'. . .

a lovely bunch. . .

2011-06-19T11:39:00.008-04:00

This post is an example of how, so very randomly, one thing can lead to another.

The story starts at Boyd's Campground where I spent an afternoon shooting background for another project.
Back in the studio I found, among the mix of pix, this wonderfully grouped collection of coconuts.

Well, as good a picture as it may be, it didn't fit with what I was working on, so I put it aside. Then, a few middle of the nights later (it always happens in the middle of the night)
I got to wondering, "what do you call a group of coconuts?"

I mean like you've got a gaggle of geese or a pride of lions,
a herd of buffalo and/or a clusterf#@k of humans!
"what do you call a group of coconuts?"
So I looked it up and it turns out coconuts come in a bunch.
A bunch of coconuts.
Satisfied that I'd found my answer, I shut the lights and went back to bed.

But then the wheels started turning. . .
. . .A bodacious bunch of coconuts? A beauteous bunch
of coconuts?

And all at once it came to me!
A song my Aunt Lee used to sing when I was very, very - 3, 4, 5 years young. "I've got a 'lovely' bunch of coconuts".
It seemed to be one of her favorites.

(So by now, maybe you know where I'm goin' with this. . .)

"I've Got a Lovely Bunch of Coconuts" is a novelty song composed in 1944 by an English songwriter, Fred Heatherton.
It was made famous by Merv Griffin singing with the Freddie Martin Orchestra, in 1950, getting to the Billboard Top 10 and selling over three million copies.

Mervyn Edward "Merv" Griffin, Jr. (July 6, 1925 - August 12, 2007) was an American television host, singer, and media mogul. At age 19 he began his career as a radio and big band singer who went on to appear in movies and on Broadway.
During the 1960s, Griffin hosted his own talk show, The Merv Griffin Show, and created the game shows Jeopardy and Wheel of Fortune. (He was considered an entertainment business magnate).

So there you have it.
From Boyd's Campground in 2011 to England in 1944 to Merv Griffin in 1950 to my Aunt Lee, circa 1954. . .
It just goes to show, when a notion takes you by the nose, follow it. It may be a sleepless but satisfying trip.

Here's a link to Merv singing the song itself:
"I've Got a Lovely Bunch of Coconuts"

flag day

2011-06-14T16:29:00.011-04:00

Today, June 14, is "Flag Day" (it comes around every year).
"Flag Day" commemorates the adoption of the flag of the United States, which happened on June 14th, 1777 by a resolution of the Second Continental Congress.

Now, for 108 years after that resolution, nobody really gave a rat's ass for June 14th.
But long about 1885 B.J. Cigrand, a Wisconsin public school-teacher, arranged for his pupils to observe June 14th as
"Flag Birthday".
He promoted it in the media of the time as best he could and 4 years later (1889), another school-teacher, George Balch, in New York City planned ceremonies for the children of his school and soon the celebration of "Flag Day" was adopted by New York's Board of Education.

In 1891, the Betsy Ross House (in Philadelphia) held it's first "Flag Day" celebration and the next year, the "New York Society of the Sons of the Revolution" and the "Pennsylvania Society of Colonial Dames" (what a great name) celebrated
it too.
The concept of "Flag Day" was catching fire at the
grassroots level.

In 1914, the U.S. Secretary of the Interior, Franklin Lane, delivered a Flag Day address in which he repeated words, he said, the flag had spoken to him that morning. . .
"I am what you make me; nothing more. I swing before your eyes as a bright gleam of color, a symbol of yourself."
(really, I'm not making this up!)

Finally, inspired by three decades of state and local celebrations, "Flag Day" was officially established by the proclamation of President Woodrow Wilson in 1916.
Then in 1949, President Truman signed an Act of Congress designating June 14th of each year as "National Flag Day".

waiting for the light

2011-06-08T14:55:00.010-04:00

So, it's happening again.
As it happens every year at about this time of year as I'm about to turn the page on being yet another chronological year older.
My mind starts to ponder "making a move".

When I was younger, full of all that piss and vinegar, I'd force the issue. . .
"Something wants to happen, something needs to happen, make something happen!"
But in these past few years, when that "need to make a move bug" bites, even though I still feel the hunger in my belly, I sit back and patiently wait for whatever it is that's going to happen, to happen organically.
Call it, as my late uncle Gene would say, "a function of age" or chalk it up to my comfortably settled and calm life-style in paradise; I'm content to wait for the motivational light to come on whenever it's ready to.

Some years there are inspired ideas and other years,
not so much.

It's never been a lack of interest or energy for me, it's coming up with the big idea and direction that's been the challenge for me. But once I get it, hide the women and children, Artman's on the loose.

So today, as I'm 365 days short of the big 6 - 0, I'm just gonna sit back and relax on this park bench at the foot of the pier and wait for that light to come on.

"leftovers" - VIDEO

2011-05-30T14:39:00.012-04:00

"Key West the Blog" was born on May 11, 2008 and writing it has been a great experience for me. I figure to keep at it for as long as the muse moves me to. I want to thank all my followers and subscribers for hanging with me all these years.

The liberating feature is that "Key West the Blog" is a sort of cyber 501C-3 not for profit endeavor. So beholden to no one for advertising or sponsorship, I can do pretty much anything I want within my self imposed moral parameters.
I can get sappy or serious, topical or not, informative, inventive or, I can just shut the hell up.

Writing in a photo-journalistic format gives me opportunity to take a closer look. But I'm guessing that for every picture I post, there are 5 or 6 others that don't fit the theme or make the cut. So they get filed away for another day.
Recently, I looked through my backlog of unused photographs and decided that I wanted to set some of them free.
(it's an artist thing, go figure)

Finally, for this post, many thanks to a new friend and great
local musician, Din Allen, for letting me use one of his songs as an accompaniment to this montage of "leftovers".

Enjoy. . .

Click arrow to start video. Run time, 3:54

sunset cruise

2011-05-27T13:27:00.006-04:00

I doesn't matter; the size of your boat.

What sanctifies the sail, is your view of the horizon.

rapture rant

2011-05-23T18:26:00.026-04:00

Hmmm. . .
Two Hands, two feet, ten fingers, ten toes and I still have my nose. No shaking, no quaking, no end of the world.
I'm guessing we didn't get raptured on Saturday night.
(well actually I did, but not in the biblical sense)
As well as I can guess, neither have my neighbors. I mean if they'd been raptured, would they be dragging out the garbage cans and watering their lawns?
Being a student of comparative religion
(I know, I know; I didn't chose it, it chose me), I know that Jesus never said there'd be an end of the world.
It's a mistranslation! What the scripture actually says is, ". . . and surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age.”
(Matthew 28:20)

It's an astrological reference. . . the end of the age of Pisces.

Biblically speaking, Moses ushered in the age of the Ram (Aires) and it's why in the Hebrew tradition they still blow the Shofar (ram's horn). Jesus ushered in the age of Pisces, the fish (which is probably why we have Chicken of the Sea tuna in a can) and in about 2150, some new mythological deity will kick off the next age, of the water carrier, Aquarius.
“As you enter the city, a man carrying a jar of water will meet you. Follow him to the house that he enters." (Luke 22:10) (Evian sales will explode!)

But what actually happens when the world ends? Does it melt, implode or crack like an egg. (a bit of omage for the graphic I heisted from google). And what happens to the moon if there's no more earth? Is it left out there just swingin in the wind with nothin' to orbit or does it go down with us? After 4 billion years of moon dance, that just doesn't seem right. And what about the sun? (By the way, if the sun is shining and there's nobody there to see it, does it still make light?) The sun's not going anywhere for the next 5 billion years! (at which point none of us will give a sh*t) And when it does, it'll take our world, the moon and most of the solar system with it.

Then there's that business of the rapture itself. . .
All those dead folks being raised from their graves and lifted into holy heaven. I would think that all that rotted flesh being raised above ground would stink to holy heaven.
(I live a block away from the cemetery)

This Harold Camping knucklehead decided that based on Jeremiah 25:32, “Look! Disaster is spreading from nation to nation; a mighty storm is rising from the ends of the earth.”, he could start shouting "the end is near, the end is near" and extort somewhere around $7 million dollars in donations.

What's got me cheesed about that is, I didn't think of it first. What a Scheme!

key west coin toss

2011-05-15T14:13:00.006-04:00

The building at 428 Greene St. in Key West is an historical landmark with a storied past.

These days it's the home of Capt. Tony's Saloon but starting sometime in the 1800's it has been an ice house that doubled as a morgue, a telegraph office and the original site of the first and original Sloppy Joe's.

But all that, for the right price, is a tale for another time.

Today's interest is the giant Jewfish hanging above the sign over the front door of the place.

After it was caught by Capt. Tony himself, the Goliath grouper made a visit to the taxidemist and was suspended, as you see it here, about 15 feet above the pavement.

Now, the tradition with the fish is, after you've got yourself appropriately enlightened at the bar, you stand on the side walk below the sign facing the street with your back to the Jewfish's gaping mouth.
Then with a quarter in hand, toss the coin back up over your head in an attempt to land it in the fish's mouth.

Personally I've never tried it (but of course, I don't get enlightened anymore) but I've watched dozens of others try their luck without success. But a few years ago, a few of my cousins from Long Island came down with some friends to throw a bachelor party for cousin Dan. We spent some time at Capt. Tony's, (Dans favorite Key West bar) then headed up Duval to the Red Garter for a while and then it was back to Capt. Tony's for a nightcap.

All said and done, as we left the saloon for the night, cousin Eric came out, quarter in hand, assumed the position and made his toss.
That, my friends, has been the one and only time I've seen anyone get it done.
Into the belly of the beast, nothin' but net!

Since then I've wondered if and how often a Capt. Tony's bartender gets sent up a ladder to collect
what that Jewfish has swallowed.

proclivities 20:11 - verse IX

2011-05-10T17:02:00.016-04:00

Normally I think of myself as a pretty educated, well informed, smarter than the average bear kind of guy.

Still, every once in a while I catch myself doing
some pretty knucklehead stuff.

artwork by Judy Mackey

Today's case in point. . .
As the weather's gotten warmer, I've taken to cranking up the A/C in the bedroom an hour or two before I head for the bed. Then, by the time I'm ready to give it all a rest for the day, the room is de-humidified and comfortably chilly.
So what do I do?
I curl up under the covers to keep toasty warm as if it were February in Vermont.

What's up with that?

a stretch of beach-front, a palm tree and a handful of colorful kayaks

2011-05-01T11:15:00.007-04:00

Life in paradise, at least for me and most of my friends, is the greatest thing since sliced bread. But it is in no way an inoculation against "real world" horsesh*t.

I guess I've got the "real world" up my ass as much as
anyone else. . .
Death and taxes, angry ex-wives, workplace issues and maybe the occasional run-in with the sheriff's department.

When that stuff happens, I deal with it as best I can and try not to take any of it all that seriously. Then I'll retreat to a quiet corner of Cayo Hueso, catch my breath and remember that in spite of it all, life is good.

All it takes is a stretch of beach-front, a palm tree and a handful of colorful kayaks.

resurrection

2011-04-24T15:03:00.021-04:00

Easter is the cornerstone event in the Christian tradition. It celebrates resurrection; death and rebirth; or at least the possibility.

Easter validates Christmas. Although not quite the commercial success, without Easter, the Nazarene is just another precocious Jewish kid who
grows up to be just
"The Resurrection"
Carl Heinrich Bloch (May,1834 – Feb,1890)

another disenfranchised radical Rabbi.
But, throw in the miracle of the resurrection and Jesus the Nazarene becomes "The Christ".

"Christ", as you probably already know, is not a name
but a title.
As the man, Siddhārtha Gautama, became "The Buddah" (enlightened one) so the man, Jesus of Nazareth became
"The Christ" (anointed one)

Now whether or not we accept Jesus as an historical figure (which I'm honestly not sure I do) most of us embrace the somewhat comforting allegory.
And that's a good thing.
We live in a predominately Christian country and the parables, myths and sayings of the tradition serve to keep most of us living according to our better natures.

Still, the concept of resurrection and Christianity are not mutually exclusive. . .
There was Attis from Greece in 1201BC, Mithra from Persia in 1200 BC, Krishna from India in 900 BC and Dionysus, also from Greece, in 500BC; to name just a few.
All these personages, including the Christian Christ, had very similar lives and ministries that ended with sacrificial death, three days entombed and triumphant resurrection.
It's an old, old tradition adopted by one culture after another from the time of Horus in Predynastic Egypt, circa 6000 BC.

I could, I suppose, give you chapter and verse on the whys and wherefores of the story's astrological parallels and how such a set of circumstances have had such a recurring relevance throughout varied human civilizations but that's a tale for another time. (or not)

But the pure and simple business of resurrection offers hope. A hope in the possibility of something other. A hope in a life after death. A hope that there is much more to this plane of existence than many of us know.
And that, I suppose, is what Easter is all about; hope.

Happy Easter my friends.

SR939A

2011-04-21T18:43:00.008-04:00

So, the past week and a half have been "taxing". (get it?)
I"ll admit, it takes a little doing for me to get my artistic mind around the annual Infernal Revenue issues but in the end, my girl Louise, the CPA, has seen me through once again. I've sent my checks by certified, rectified, bona fide mail and feel much better having "Rendered to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s. . ." (from Mark 12:17 and/or Luke 20:25) and getting the unconstitutional monkeys off my ass for yet another year.
Now I can get back to the business of living quietly under the radar in the Florida Keys.

Anyway. . .
Out on the long end of Sugarloaf Blvd., on Lower Sugarloaf Key, there's only one way you can go. It's a sharp right turn onto SR939A (a.k.a. Old State Rd.4A). I figure that stretch is just about 1/4 mile before it stops dead at a barricade behind which is a dirt trail into the mangroves. On my last visit up that way I took a little time to check it out.

I parked the convertible and set off on foot not knowing what to expect. That's the adventure on paths (spiritual or otherwise) with no end in sight.

Unfortunately, it was late in the day and while I walked and I walked for the better part of 2 hours eventually I realized the daylight was fading with still no end in sight. (2 hours ingress means 2 hours egress).

I knew if I'd pushed on any longer it would be dark before I got back to the car and I just wasn't prepared for that.

So I didn't get to the ultimate end of the trail (but that's not ever the point of any journey - is it?) but promised myself I'd be back earlier on another day with a dirt bike to revisit
the adventure.

And that will be a ton of fun.
Stay tuned. . .

maxine's 13th

2011-04-05T15:41:00.011-04:00

This past Friday, April 1st, was my girl Maxine's 13th birthday. Max adopted me back in 1998 when, for some God only knows why reason, I wandered into the Philadelphia Humane Society Shelter on a snowy December night.
The nice ladies at the shelter told me she was 8 months old and I counted backwards and figured she'd been born in April.
In my imaginative/poetic/artistic/twisted mind, I decided that April Fools Day was her actual birth date. (Why the hell not?)

The nice ladies at the shelter put Max and I in a small room together for a little while and we buddied up right away. It was like we recognized each other from a previous life. (yeah, the concept of reincarnation is a real deal to me) I mean, think about it. . . a shaky homeless kitten and a leather jacketed punk driving a T-Bird. What are the odds?
I'd never had a feline life-form in my world before, with me it was always a dog or nothing. But somehow, on that cold December night, bringing this cat home felt like the right thing to do - so I did.

Of course at that point in our relationship, her name was not Maxine. Her previous owners and the "official" adoption paper-work called her "Kirby" which sounded like a brand of vacuum cleaner to me and I thought, really sucked. So for the next two months, while I waited for the divine inspiration, my new roomy remained nameless. Then one night in February, my state of the art sound system was playing Donald Fagan's collection called "The NightFly". The 4th track on that album is a very easy piece called "Maxine".
I knew right then it was gonna be all good and it has been
ever since.

So, that's my sappy story and I'm stickin' to it.
Happy birthday Maxine, you knucklehead.

it's about time

2011-03-27T12:14:00.010-04:00

In my house, there are four digital clocks.
There's one on the computer and another on the cell phone. One is on the oven and the last is on the microwave.

Now I've never been much of a clock watcher.
Mostly, especially since I've lived in Key West, unless I've got a meeting or a date, I don't care what time it is.
Still every once in a while my eye will catch a glimpse of one or either of my kitchen clocks and it seems like, since we sprang forward to daylight savings time again, my clocks are having a little fun with me.

If I look at a clock three times in a day (which is about right),
two out of those three times the green LED will read in seemingly whimsical ways.

For example. . .
1 - 1 - 1, 2 - 2 - 2 or 3 - 3 - 3
And it doesn't stop there. . .
10 - 10, 11 - 11 and 12 - 12
Then it gets more interesting. . .
9 - 10, 10 - 11, 11 - 12, 12 - 13
or. . .
2 - 3 - 4 or 4 - 3 - 2
and 4 - 5 - 6 or 6 - 5 - 4
Then, there's my all time favorite. . .
1 - 2 - 3 - 4

To me, it just seems a little peculiar.
I mean, what are the odds?
Glance at a clock maybe three times in a day and at least two of those times seeing static or sequential numerical patterns.
Are the clocks timing me or am I timing the clocks?

It's nothing I spend too much "time" thinking about (I'm not a numerologist after all), it's just something to make you say, "hmmm. . ."

"Tempus Fugit"

. . .a word from our sponsor - VIDEO

2011-03-27T11:55:00.004-04:00

Click the arrow to start video. Run time, 1:27

sugarloaf 's bat tower

2011-03-22T09:59:00.020-04:00

During my last visit to Sugarloaf Key, I took a little down-time to visit the "elephant in the room". See, I always knew the
Bat Tower was there; I'd even seen it; but I figured
"what's the big deal".
But, on this particular occasion, the Bat Tower seemed to be calling out to me and I surrendered to the summons. . .

As it happens, Sugarloaf's Bat Tower was one of fourteen
Bat Towers worldwide.
Bat Towers were the brainchild of a Texas doctor named Charles Campbell who's intention was to house bats, that can eat up to 1000 mosquitoes in an hour.
An organic attempt at mosquito control intended to lessen the spread of malaria.

Anyway, in the mid to late 1920's a fairly well-to-do business-guy named Richter Clyde Perky bought a bunch of land on Lower Sugarloaf. On that land he built a fishing lodge (which, I'm guessing is what we call Sugarloaf Lodge today - but feel welcome to check me on that), then cleared and paved what is now called Sugarloaf Boulevard to give his fishing visitors easy access to the Atlantic side of the island.

But even with all that accommodation, Mr. Perky
had a problem.
He couldn't get anyone to stay at the lodge because it was crazy with mosquitoes.
So in 1929, borrowing Dr. Campbell's design, Perky built the 35 foot tall Bat Tower and imported a pant-load of bats
from Cuba and Texas to roost in it and control the
mosquito population,
(remember, 1 bat can eat up to 1000 mosquitoes in an hour).

Unfortunately for Perky though, apparently his bats weren't hungry and when he released them into the tower they flew up and out of the thing and just kept on going, never to return. (oops!) . .
. . .and with them, went the guests at the lodge.

So there stands “Perky’s Folly” (as some locals called it at the time), out in the middle of almost nowhere. An organic attempt at mosquito control that didn't work.
All the same, the Sugarloaf Bat Tower was added to the U.S. National Register of Historic Places in 1982 and for me, yielded some interesting research and a few good pictures.

everything else is crap

2011-03-13T15:48:00.013-04:00

During the last couple of months I've been visited by quite a few ghosts from Artman's past. Old acquaintances who've found me through FaceBook and distant relatives phone calling out of the blue. I've bumped into a few past lovers
(in one case literally) and was visited by an old friend and former band mate who I hadn't seen in 40 years.

Now, I accept, as an axiom, the proposition that all we create our own realities. But sometimes it boggles my mind how
that works.
Like now, with all these recent "blasts from the past".
As far as I knew, I was happily living my low-key island life when all these chance encounters came along. What the hell did I do to manifest this stuff? I'm not saying any of this is bad stuff, just very curious.

Understandably, revisiting one's past can run the mind through a gauntlet of memories and emotions, re-open old wounds or re-live past joys, reawaken former pains and prejudices, issues unresolved and unfinished business.
Then there's the boatload of "what ifs" and "whys".
"How could this or that situation been better or worse?" "What difference might it have made to have turned right instead of left?"

Selfish questions all steeped in ego; a sort of feeble attempt to over-master memories of the past and surely not the best of all places for the mind to dwell too long.

Anyway, I put myself through that gauntlet and, in the end, happily came to the place where mind is right, heart is healed and soul is satisfied.
Detached from ego, it's an easy thing to be grateful for those children of God whose lives I've touched and who's lives have touched mine.

Our courses had crossed, drifted their separate ways and now, for some God only knows reason, have briefly crossed again. In the end, all that really matters is the happy knowledge that we're all still weathering the waves and making way
under sail.

Everything else is crap.

president's day, 2011 - VIDEO

2011-02-21T05:45:00.009-05:00

Once upon a time, February 21st was the celebration of George Washington's birthday.
So it's probably not such a coincidence that on February 21st, 1885, the Washington Monument was dedicated. At 555 feet, it was the tallest structure in the world and today must, by D.C. law, remain the tallest building in the capital.

Anyway, now the day is dedicated to all our Presidents.
(as if they all deserved it)
So what I've done here is a short montage of all the "official" Presidential portraits so far with a little music behind it.
You might be thinking I used "Hail to the Chief" in the clip
(it would make perfect sense after all) but I didn't for a couple of reasons. First off, it's not long enough, it's not a particularly good tune and marching music drives me up a tree. So I found something just as patriotic, much more interesting and a better representation of my left of center political views.

Enjoy. . .

Click arrow to start video. Run time, 2:40

sculpture key west

2011-02-06T15:09:00.019-05:00

Sculpture Key West (SKW) is an annual Keys event dedicated to celebrating the arts. An outdoor event, Sculpture Key West features the work of artists from around the world at 4 distinctive venues. . .
Fort Zachary Taylor State Park, the Key West Garden Club at West Martello Tower, the KeyWest Tropical Forest & Botanical Garden and 540 Greene Street. (sorry, no website)

As I see it, the function of art is to draw the participant (I do believe viewing or listening to any form of art is a participatory action) to draw the participant, at least temporarily, out of their prescribed mindset. (although sometimes the impression can be lasting).
It can bring a smile, enrage passions, inspire new thoughts, inform or even confuse the holy hell out of you.

I experienced that gamut of motivations recently when I took advantage of my new found "auto-mobility" to visit a few of the SKW venues.
Here's a sampling of what I found. . .

Fort Zachary Taylor

Square Wave, Bill Wood

Photosynthesis, Myung Gyun You

Angel, Luciano di Rosa

Contemporary Cannon, Tom Risser

Hard Place, Jiwan Noah Singh

Key West Tropical Forest & Botanical Garden

Diaspora Series, Lori Nozick

Anima, Susan Bennett

No Longer Waiting, Roberta Marks

Key West Garden Cub @ West Martello Tower

Wall of Wisdom, Susan Johnson

Rasta Rooster, Bounce Margil

Angeline, Lynn Umlauf

Templates of Clouds, Maja Godlewska

Now this is one of those pieces of art that informs.
(at least, it taught me something new)

Laid out in a large circle were better than a dozen old album covers that had been transferred onto tiles at actual album cover size. They were records from the 50's & 60's by a dude called "The Mighty Sparrow".
Well, I'd never heard of him so, being the kind of inquisitive mind I am, I looked him up. . .

Sparrow Come Back Home, Buckley & Mark Harris

. . .and this cat is truly, "The King of Calypso"!
Check out these 3 links I've attached.
You're gonna love this guy!!

TEN TO ONE IS MURDER

DE BOTH AH DEM
CONGO MAN

i sat belonely

2011-02-03T12:07:00.007-05:00

I sat belonely down a tree,
humbled fat and small.
A little lady sing to me
I couldn't see at all.

I'm looking up and at the sky,
to find such wonderous voice.
Puzzly, puzzle, wonder why,
I hear but I have no choice.

"Speak up, come forth, you ravel me",
I potty menthol shout.
"I know you hiddy by this tree",
But still she won't come out.

Such sofly singing lulled me sleep,
an hour or two or so
I wakeny slow and took a peep
and still no lady show.

Then suddy on a little twig
I thought I see a sight,
A tiny little tiny pig,
that sing with all it's might.

"I thought you were a lady",
I giggle - well I may,
To my surprise the lady,
got up and flew away.

John Lennon

"artists helping artists", anne mckee - 2011

2011-01-29T13:04:00.013-05:00

Most of you know that for the last several years I've been a contributing artist in the Anne McKee Artist's Fund Fine Arts Auction. This year's auction is happening next Saturday night, Feb. 5 and once again, I'll be joining very nearly 100 other Keys Artists at the Fort East Martello Museum at 3501 S. Roosevelt Blvd. in Key West.

The evening opens at 7pm for an hour of viewing the collection that includes drawings, paintings, fine arts photography and sculpture and is followed at 8pm by the auction itself, conducted by auctioneer Charlie Bailey-Gates who's a pretty funny guy who really knows how to sell stuff. It's an easy evening under the stars of beautiful artwork, smiling faces, gourmet finger food from Small Chef at Large, and tickets for two complimentary cocktails plus unlimited champagne;
for all that, admission is just $25. per person.

Here is my offering for this year. . .

"She Dreams of Guitars"
Fine Arts Photography, 16" x 20" matted & framed
Gallery value, $500.

"Artists Helping Artists" is the engine behind the auction and the purpose of The Anne McKee Artists Fund itself.
The proceeds raised at the annual auction go back into the fund and are then are re-allocated to provide project-based grants to Florida Keys artists. I've been a fortunate grant recipient and can tell you, it's a win win for everyone. Buyers get a beautiful piece of artwork; Artists get a few bucks for brushes and paints or whatever it takes to keep working.

If you can make it, come on by. I'll be one of the guys with a flashlight directing the parking traffic. See you there.

beer • soda • ice • bait

2011-01-24T15:56:00.007-05:00

The more time I spend up on Sugarloaf Key (for my out of town readers, that's about 17 miles north of Key West) the more I like the place.

You've gotta love how the items for sale here are prioritized

Maybe it's because I've got friends up that way, maybe because of the easy access to the water and maybe it's the richness of it's unspoiled natural nature.

Or maybe because it's usually nicely quiet and you can see more stars at night.

It's probably a taste of each of those things. But more than anything else, I've gotta say, it's something in the air.

I haven't really put my finger on it yet but the more explore, I'm pretty sure I'll figure it out.

Reflecting back to my previous life as a mogul monster on the NorthWest corporate corridor, I think that if Key West were New York City, Sugarloaf Key would be Connecticut.

what's up dock?

2011-01-15T13:24:00.004-05:00

. . .Nothing profound or prophetic but maybe poetic in how these old and well worn wooden docks lend themselves to a memory of an earier time.

southernmost point

2011-01-11T18:32:00.007-05:00

"A larger than life concrete buoy marks the Southernmost Point in the continental United States, only 90 miles
from Cuba.
Located at the corner of South Street and Whitehead Street, it's the backdrop for a Kodak moment for virtually every traveler to Key West."

Well, that's pretty much the party line on the thing. . .
Actually the southernmost point in the continental United States is somewhere along the beach at Fort Zachary Taylor and as for our red, black and yellow concrete buoy, it's more like 94 miles from Cuba. (but, trust me, I understand better than most that marketing trumps truth every time).

image courtesy of conchscooter

Back in the day, the site was marked by a much less ostentatious sign that was stolen as many times as the city could replace it. So in 1983 the city fathers (and mothers) decided to plant a little something that was just a bit too big to fit in the trunk of a car. Since then, our Southernmost Point buoy has been the most visited and photographed attraction in Key West. (mostly, I'm thinkin', because it's FREE)

I've even heard a story that the place is haunted and if you get there at dusk or just before dawn, when no one else is around, you might see the ghost of a young man gazing out over the water to the horizon.
But like I mentioned earlier, marketing trumps truth
every time.

government road

2011-01-09T11:14:00.015-05:00

In a moment of geek last week (yeah, I have them sometimes) I was playing with GoogleEarth and getting a bird's-eye-view
of Key West.
I found my current house, the last three places I've lived since I've been on the rock and traced the route I run on my bike workouts which led me to a look at the airport and that's when I found Government Road.
Now, I've always known that Government Road was there but, in all my years here, hadn't taken the time to go down it.
"Hmmm" I thought; a corner of Cayo Hueso I haven't explored; we just can't have that!

Government Road is a paved business that runs (I'm guessing here) about a half mile through mostly undeveloped natural nice-ness and parallel to Key West International across the salt marsh.

At the close end is Little Hamaca City Park and at the far end the road ends at a paintball battlefield. But it was the ruins I discovered in between that piqued my interest.

"What's all this then" I asked myself. Remains of radar towers (lots of them), concrete buildings big enough to warehouse Sherman tanks and something that looked to me
like a bunker.

That's when the light came on. . .
A military installation that just could date back to the
Cuban Missile Crisis.

In October of 1962 I was 10 years old and even though I have real memories of those days, the concepts of naval blockades, evil communists and nuclear armageddon were fairly abstract. I'm not even sure I knew a place called Key West existed.

Anyway, back home later in the day, I did a little homework and sure enough, here was one of the four firing batteries built to defend Key West if the situation between Kennedy and Khrushchev got out of hand.

It's a pretty amazing story actually. . .
On Oct. 20th, 1962 the 6th Battalion's 65th Artillery Unit and their low altitude defense missiles were ordered to move from Fort Meade, Maryland to Key West and in only 9 days, the troops and missiles were deployed and all four firing batteries were operational. (pretty damned quick)

Judging from the map, I'm guessing these are the ruins of Bravo Battery.

So it appears that Key West was loaded for bear in those days. It's got me wondering how weird it could get around here if the United States actually does decide to invade Venezuela.

another maxine moment

2011-01-06T03:38:00.009-05:00

I could buy my girl a million dollar goose down bed
but she'd still curl up in a box the
U.P.S. dude delivered this afternoon.
Felines, go figure.

a love story

2011-01-03T15:28:00.012-05:00

Shooting through a long lens on a boat, even in a light chop, is problematic at best.
All the same, when I spotted this Cormorant dance of romance 100 yards off my starboard rail, I had to give it a try.

At the end of the day, these are not the best pictures I've ever taken but, sometimes the sentiment of the story is worth more than the quality of the art.

"Love doesn't make the world go round, love is what makes the ride worthwhile."
Elizabeth Browning

a new year in paradise

2011-01-01T10:12:00.025-05:00

"A New Year's resolution is something that goes
in one year and out
the other."

I've never been big on New Year's "resolutions". I mean, why put that gun to your head?
Resolve to do or not do something and by
March or April you've probably screwed it up. Then comes the disappointment,
maybe shame and guilt and you end up riding your own ass over it until June or July when, finally, the warmer
sun and seawater
can wash it all away.

Self improvement is, more realistically, a day to day proposition and "New Year's Day" is just another day.
Live today a little more consciously than you might have yesterday and hope that tomorrow will be better than today.
No pressure, no pain, no problem.

"Live every day as though it's your last.
Because some day, you'll be right."

"Celebrating Paradise" a photographic study by Arthur Winstanley
© 2011 Arthur A. Winstanley
Original photography & PhotoShop, 10" x 20" matted & framed
Museum quality prints available for purchase

the 6th day of christmas

2010-12-31T09:27:00.016-05:00

According to the song, today is "the 6th day of Christmas" and, if had a true love, I should be expecting "6 geese-a-laying" to show up. But since I didn't find "5 golden rings" under my pillow yesterday, I figure "true love" just ain't in the cards this year.
All the same, I'm forever an optimist and I'll be keeping an eye out for those "8 maids-a-milking" to come knocking the day after tomorrow.
Anyway, on Christmas Day I made my way north to Sugarloaf Key for brunch with friends Joseph and Mary; Scrambled eggs, Belgian Waffles and a Sangriento Maria that couldn't be beat. Mary, it turns out, is fairly pregnant. So, it being Christmas and all, there was no shortage of good natured quips and comments about building a manger in the yard, moving to Miami for the census and whether or not to name the baby, you guessed it, Jesus.
We all had a great time.

After our feast I stepped outside to a beautiful day and decided, with nothing much going on until dinner back in Key West later in the evening, I'd explore a bit.
That's when I noticed the skydivers falling out of the clear blue sky and, a few minutes later, the perfectly good Cessna they'd just jumped out of on approach for a landing at
Sugarloaf Airport.

Naturally, I followed my nose down the old road beside Sugarloaf Lodge and past the bat tower to the well worn runway that is home to SkyDive Key West and Fantasy Dan's Airplane Rides.

As I was watching the Cessna taxi in for re-fueling before taking another group of jumpers up while the divers in the sky were growing larger as the fell closer to their drop zone, I got into a conversation with Ed, who I gathered, was one of the pilots at Fantasy Dan's.
Ed and I solved as many of the world's problems as we could in about 20 minutes until he mentioned that Christmas dinner would be served up pretty soon but there was plenty of time for a Christmas cup of rhum and something if I had a mind to join him.
Naturally, in the spirit of the season, I was obliged to accept.

Back behind Dan's I found a trailered old boat, the stripped fuselage of an even older airplane and an RV/trailer home from which came the delicious smell of the coming feast.
I was met also by four of Ed's friends; Beverly, Keith, Len and Tibo and with Captain and Coke in hand, I joined Len, Keith and Ed leaning on the bow of the trailered old boat to shoot the breeze while Beverly worked away on dinner in the RV and Tibo laid down at my feet.

The four of us spent the next hour or so giving up our background stories, finding common interests and solving a few more of the world's problems.
I enjoyed my afternoon visit to that anonymous little corner of the universe very much. . .

. . .As nearly perfect weather as you could hope for, the peace and good cheer of Christmas in the air and the welcome vibe of new friendships.

from left to right: Beverly, Len, Ed, Keith & Tibo down in front

At the end of the day, Len said it best (and I'm paraphrasing here), "in this world, the best you can do is find a quiet place to be and carve out a niche where you can live an easy life under the radar.
As for the problems of the world, it's really too late
to fix anything."

lunar eclipse

2010-12-21T19:39:00.008-05:00

Earlier today, when everyone with any sense was comfortably tucked away in bed. . .

1:40 am

3:10 am

before & after

2010-12-07T07:21:00.015-05:00

As happens more often than not, I found this frame
while I was on my way to shoot something else.
She (and her twin sister) are in meditation outside the entrance of Mike and Dow's floating Thai restaurant
next to CharterBoat Row on the boulevard.

I've eaten there many times and it's really good eats.

Anyway, she put me in mind of Buddhist mealtime prayers.
One for before meals and another for after. . .

Before
The unsurpassable teacher is the precious Buddha.
The unsurpassable protector is the precious Dharma.
The unsurpassable refuge is the precious Sangha.
To these Three Jewels, we make this offering.

After

Through this goodness, may omniscience be attained.
May every enemy be overcome.
May beings be liberated from the ocean of samsara,
which is troubled by waves of birth, old age,
sickness, and death.

fly navy - key west

2010-11-30T14:05:00.016-05:00

The U.S. Navy's presence in Key West dates back to 1823 when a Naval Base was established to stop piracy in the area.

The base was expanded during the Mexican War (1845 - 48) and again during the Spanish - American War (1898). The battleship Maine (remember the Maine?) sailed from Key West to Havana Cuba where it sank, giving the United States government an excuse to declare war on Spain. At that point the entire U.S. Atlantic Fleet was moved to Key West for the duration of the war.

During World War I (1914 - 1918) the base was expanded again. The project involved dredging the land leased from from the Florida East Coast Railroad Company for construction of station buildings, a hydro generator and barracks. Because Key West offered such easy access to open sea - lanes and usually ideal flying conditions, construction also included a dirigible hangar, three seaplane ramps and a submarine base.
Now known as Trumbo Point, the base's mission, at that time, was to spot and block German ships from reaching Mexican oil supplies while supplying oil to the U.S. fleet.

After the war, the base was decommissioned, most of the buildings were destroyed and the station remained inactive until two years before the United States entered the 2nd World War. Fortunately, the government had retained the property and the base was reopened and designated as a Naval Air Station to support Navy destroyers and PBY aircraft.
After that war had finally ended, NAS Key West was kept alive as a training facility.

By the time of the Cuban Missile Crisis (1962), NAS Key West sites included Meachum Field, Boca Chica, Harry S. Truman Annex and Trumbo Point. During the Cuban crisis, NAS Key West flew reconnaissance and operational flights in support of the blockade and reinforced Key West's title as "Gibraltar of the Gulf" as coined by Commodore Porter a hundred
years earlier.

Today, Trumbo Point is used mostly for military housing but is also home to the U.S. Coast Guard Group - Key West, a Naval Research Laboratory, Naval Legal Services Office and the U.S. Army Special Forces Waterborne Operations Division.

foreclosure - proof. . .

2010-11-29T07:58:00.005-05:00

. . .and it also helps solve our affordable housing problem.

an attitude of gratitude

2010-11-25T09:52:00.012-05:00

I'm gonna start off telling you something you already know. . .
Life ain't perfect.

Still, there are one of two ways we can live through it and walk this world. . .
Oncely, grousing and grumbling about how fracked up it is.
or
Twicely, being grateful for the experience.

I guess most of us cross the tracks between grousing and grateful every once in a while; none of us are all one thing or all the other. (except maybe saints, but I'd doubt that too)
In my experience, grousing and grumbling gives me a sour stomach, while practicing an attitude of gratitude keeps my heart healthy.
So which side of the tracks would you guess I try to stay on?

as we used to say in the old neighborhood, "enjoy the bird."

Believe it when I say that I'm grateful to live in the Keys where most "Keysters", especially the friends and acquaintances in my life's sphere feel the same. And I'm grateful for my friends and acquaintances, their respect and appreciation for my talents and skills and the faith that, when I employ them, it is God working through me. I'm grateful for God's love and the human loves I've known - both romantic and familial - That both my parents, my siblings (all 5 of the knuckleheads) and children are all still above ground and doing alright. I'm grateful I've lived long enough to see grandchildren born to me. I'm grateful for my lifestyle of peace, relative prosperity and good health, that my mind is imaginative and usually smarter than the average bear and that I have a heart of compassion and warmth. I'm grateful for all the cool stuff I've seen and experienced that were unique to my time alive. . .
Mickey Mouse, Rocky and Bullwinkle, Beatles, moon landings, computer technology, a Mets/Yankees Subway Series and a black President of the United States. I'm grateful for the swirls of chaos and mayhem I've managed to whip up now and again and the profound peace I find in deep meditation. I'm grateful that whatever bad habits I have are small stuff and that the "angry young man" I used to be is long gone. I'm grateful for all the help I've gotten along the way and all the help I've been able to give to others. I'm grateful for God, Guru and my keen awareness of nature. For sailboats, bicycles, baseball and
girls wearing short skirts.
Finally, I'm grateful for the great Thanksgiving feast I'll be picking up at Small Chef at Large a little later today and the the hopefully hungry dudes coming by to help me devour it.

Happy Thanksgiving Everyone.

power to the people

2010-11-15T17:01:00.008-05:00

When you live on an island that's connected electrically to the mainland by a 160 mile long extension cord, you have to expect that every once in a while someone or something is gonna accidently trip over it and kick out the plug.

I think about that every time the power goes down, like it did for about 10 or 15 minutes last night and, in a more creative state of consciousness I can almost see the Incredible Hulk lumbering across Long Key, gettin' tangled up in the power lines and tearing them down .
(it's an artist thing)

One never knows when the power will crap out or how long the outage will last so one always has a flashlight handy, makes their way around the home lighting strategically positioned candles and sits out on the porch or patio with a cocktail where it's always sure to be cooler.

Like I said, last night's power loss was 10 or 15 minutes; no big deal. But sittin' outside in the streetlight-less dark, without the ambient glow of the city, more stars were visible and the buzz, that you can feel more than you actually hear, from the power lines over the houses, just wasn't there.
It's really quite romantic.

But even so, if at first blush the lack of electricity makes the world feel like there's more room for romance in the air; candles burning, no computer, telephone or TV and less energy coursing through the ether; after a night or two, once the flashlight batteries start to fade and the beer in the fridge gets warm, being without electricity is very much like romance itself, once the novelty has worn off; a real pain in the ass.

So my thanks to our friends at KeysEnergy for always being out there to face down the Hulk (or whatever mutant force is tugging at the extension cord) and always restoring
power to the people.

odd bits

2010-11-10T10:41:00.016-05:00

I don't have one of those mindless desk jobs that afford me tons of time between things to do for blog babbling
ad infinitum.
So when my world gets "interesting", which it often does, my attention re-directs towards whatever new project, situation, madness or mayhem is calling my name. And even though I was a master at multi-taking back when I lived up north and was really working for a living (seems like 100 years ago) multi-tasking just doesn't fit in with my laid back
island lifestyle.
So now, it's one thing at a time but, as a result, time spent on other things means time away from Key West the Blog.

All the same, I am forever jotting down notes and shooting pictures that may or may not be blog-able for when the time for blogging comes back around to the top of the
"things to do" list.
Like it has today. . .

teabaggers, pachyderms
& jackasses

So, we've just lived through two weeks in the "habitat for insanity". (rhymes with Sean Hannity)
Two weeks you ask?
Sure, one week of our local fantasy festivities followed by a second week of national election mayhem. Of the two, this year I must admit, I enjoyed the latter week more. For me, this year's political circus of teabaggers, pachyderms, and jackasses was much more amusing than Capt. Morgan and his ship's compliment of painted titties.

The bad ads and rudderless debates, finger pointing and name calling, fear mongering in the face of reason and every male candidate looking dumb as a post when his female opponent threw the most over-used phrase of the season at him; "man up!" Frankly, I was a little disappointed that none of those guys had the imagination to shoot back a sarcastic, "yes dear".

graphic by art winstanley

It was fun. . .
Bigot Teabaggers, bumbling Republicans and clueless Democrats with no cojónes.
An obtuse Angle in Nevada and a witch in Delaware, the 5 o'clock shadow and Queenie Loudmouth from Alaska and a weeper with an orange tan for Speaker of the House.
What else could you ask for?

It was amusing as hell but now it's over and at the end of the day, it really doesn't matter which functionaries fill the seats in those hollow halls, (yep, I said it that way on purpose) because nothin's gonna change.
The long term course for America was charted long ago by the men behind the curtain and all the morally bankrupt bureaucrats, newly elected or not, are handsomely payed to play along.
It's nothing but theatre.

wax paper

Living life should be easy. An effortless going with the flow. Grass grows, flowers bloom and critters are born and die as easily as breathing. Only humanity complicates the process.

In my life, when I come across things that won't go easily for me, I steer clear. (why deal with stress, right?) Examples of things that won't go easily for me are water skiing, playing the oboe, understanding legal-eze or accounting, can openers and, saran wrap. (you know that cling-ie roll of plastic crap used to cover leftovers and such; tear a sheet off and gravity, static electricity or the slightest breeze from a ceiling fan folds it back on itself in a hermetically sealed ball of frustration)
So, to keep life simple and easy (like it's supposed to be), I've always used wax paper. It's easier to use in the kitchen and does double duty as a pallet liner when I'm painting.

I've known about wax paper since I was a kid and like most things in this life, knowing about stuff is learned by example. Maybe, as a kid, you watched how your mom or granny set up their kitchens; me, I watched my Aunt Lu.
The pots go here, the pans go there and, always always, among the knives, cleavers, spoons, ladles and love, was CutRite wax paper. She'd wrap leftovers with it, use it to roll out pie crust and cookie dough or fold a sliver of it over a comb to make a kind of kazoo. In all these years, whether I've been married or single, I've never, ever had a kitchen without wax paper.

My Aunt Lu died last week, she was 86. She lived her life with an unconditional love for everyone. Quiet and un-presuming, she touched the hearts of every soul she met along the way.
I know she touched mine.
Wax paper is just one of the many of touchstones I'll have for the rest of my days to recognize her ever present ease, warmth and welcome, lessons and love in my life.

trick or treat

2010-10-31T13:38:00.005-04:00

comtemplación del gato

2010-10-09T09:41:00.008-04:00

Today might have been our brother John's 70th birthday.

Can you imagine. . .

higgs beach & tiki mythology

2010-10-04T12:19:00.010-04:00

This Tiki dude hangs out on the side of the beach stuff rental hut on Higgs beach.
The beach was named for Clarence S. Higgs who I've read was a mayor of Key West but oddly, reading down a list of Key West mayors, didn't find old Clarence listed.
If anyone knows when Higgs was mayor, please let me know.

Anyway, "Tiki" is to Polynesian cultures in the South Pacific as "Totem poles" are to Native American cultures; the only difference being, Totem poles represent deities while a Tiki represents man (more exactly, the first man).
The carvings mostly served to mark the boundaries of sacred sites but these days, more often than not, tourist attractions and, are strongly associated with the origin sex.

See, Tiki mythology closely parallels our Judaeo-Christian myth of Adam and Eve. . .
God created Adam, the first man, from the dust and after a time Adam was lonely and craved company. So God created Eve, the first woman, from one of Adam's ribs.
The two lived in innocence for a while until the snake came along and tempted Eve to taste the forbidden fruit (sex) which she in turn shared with Adam.
(Christine O'Donnell would never approve)

Now the Tiki myth varies a bit from island to island in the South Pacific but mostly it goes like this. . .
God created Tiki, the first man, from red clay and after a time Tiki was lonely and craved company. One day, seeing his reflection in a pool of water, Tiki thought he had found a companion and so, dove in to seize it. Of course the image shattered and Tiki was disappointed. So God (compassionate fellow that he is) created Ivi, the first woman, from one of Tiki's bones.
The two lived in innocence for a while until an eel came along and excited Ivi. Her excitement turned Tiki on and the first horizontal mambo was the result.

At the end of the day, you've gotta wonder (well, you don't have to but I'm stuck with it) how a creationist myth born in the Middle East could so closely parallel a creationist myth born in the South Pacific nearly 12,000 miles on the other side of the planet; before the time of telephones or the internet.
Hmmm. . .

bike week - part 2

2010-10-02T07:07:00.007-04:00

One strange day during bike week, I was on my early morning way to and from 5 Brother's Deli for my daily dose of con leché when I noticed two little-kiddie bikes leaning side by side on the curb a few doors down from my house. Nothing unusual really, Key Westers have an unspoken recycling process. . .
Whatever you've got, if you don't need or want it anymore, set it out on the curb and before long someone who does will pick it up. (It's a win, win for everybody)

Now me, I'm a single guy and my kids are grown so, I've got no rideable use for little-kiddie bikes but as the day wore on and the shadows and light played on the things I thought I'd get some pictures before the bikes found their way to somewhere else. (it's an artist thing)

Anyway, while I was taking these and a few more shots, a friend of mine drove up.
I've known Danette Baso Silvers for just about as long as I've lived in Key West but we hadn't seen each other in a while and so spent a few minutes catching up on this and that. Then she asked me about the bikes. I explained they'd been there for the taking and that I had no use for them other than that afternoon's photo-op. She mentioned that her nephew was needing a bike and one of these two might be perfect.

Without much hesitation, we loaded them both into the back of her car and off they drove toward a little TLC and their new home. You've just gotta love the synchronicity of island life.

bike week - part 1

2010-09-25T13:29:00.020-04:00

I know I'm late to the party on this one but, what the hell, here goes anyway. . .

Personally, I'm not a big on motorcycles although I have every respect for people who are. My issue with motorcycles is nothing personal; just an aspect of my issues with unnecessary loud sounds. Other stuff like mopeds, car alarms, overbearing loud mouth women (you know who you are), garbage trucks, sirens, boats with motors (I prefer sail) and navy jet fly overs make me crazy too.

All that said, I did get out and about last weekend for a few hours to the annual bike week festivities and being of the "visual artist" and "all for fun and fun for all" persuasions was again excited by the bike designs and generous energy of the bikers who dig them.

For folks out-of-town, the thing that brings bikers to Key West is the last stop of the Poker Run at the Schooner Wharf Bar. Now, I was told by one biker I spoke with that the Poker Run is a mostly unknown event for folks outside of South Florida.
So, in a nutshell (or a conch shell if you prefer). . .

Every year thousands of bikers register for the annual, for charity event up in Miami and begin the rumble down the 150 or so miles of the Overseas Highway to Key West.
Along the way there are 5 (sometimes 7) stops where the bikers each draw a playing card and the biker with the best poker hand at the end of the run is the winner.

I tried, but never did, catch up with this year's winner so I don't really know what the prize for winning is (and if anyone knows, I'd be happy to hear) but, when the bikers roll into town, they get treated to a weekend with a hog roast and bikini fashion show at Schooner's and the Biker Bash at Sloppy Joe's on Duval.

Prize or no prize the events around town seem like ample incentive to come rumbling down the Keys.
There's my "all for fun and fun for all" thing again.

Still, with my loud sounds thing going on, I'd personally pass on it. But if there's ever a Poker Run for smooth cruisin', quiet riding drop top Cadillacs, I'm there.

hand rolled

2010-09-20T13:30:00.004-04:00

. . . and what a smooth smoke it was.

snail mail

2010-09-09T13:31:00.010-04:00

Just a bit of fun with photoshop here.
(or should that be phun with fotoshop?)

Anyway, late last Saturday morning it started crazy raining and I put my plants out from under the porch roof to catch some of it. While I was gettin' it done, I noticed a snail climbing up the side of my mailbox and in my head, heard Curly Howard's voice say, "ooo! snail mail!".
He was about in the position you see him here but by the time I'd finished with the plants, grabbed my camera and got back out there, he'd moved to a place that didn't tell the story so well anymore. (either snails move quicker than we usually think or I was having a slow moving Saturday morning)

So I waited and watched and eventually decided the little bugger was not gonna give me another one shot photo-op.
So I shot one of the snail (yes that's really him), and another of my mailbox. Then this morning, with a little time to kill on my hands, put this image together.

Artists, go figure. . .

remembering labor day

2010-09-06T09:22:00.017-04:00

Widely accepted as the brainchild of Peter J. McGuire, (general secretary of the Brotherhood of Carpenters and Joiners and a cofounder of the American Federation of Labor) Labor Day is "dedicated to the social and economic achievements of American workers."

The first ever Labor Day celebration was scheduled in New York City on the first Monday in September of 1882 but, for one reason or another, was held off for a day (probably called on account of rain) and so the parade and picnic were held instead on Tuesday, September 5, 1882.

Held as an annual "workingmen's holiday", by 1884 labor organizations in other cities joined the celebration.

The first governmental recognition of Labor Day came through local municipal ordinances passed during 1885 and 1886 and from them came a movement to secure state legislation. By 1894, 23 states had adopted the holiday in honor of workers.

In June of that year, in the aftermath of the deaths of a number of workers at the hands of the US. military and US. Marshals during the Pullman Strike, President Grover Cleveland made reconciliation with Labor a top
political priority.

Fearing further strikes and riots, legislation making Labor Day a national holiday was rushed through Congress and unanimously signed into law just six days after the
end of the strike.
Cleveland also signed a bill designating the first Monday in September as Labor Day while hoards of hungry unemployed were marching on Washington to demand relief.

But here in the Keys, the first Monday in September
is notorious for only one event. . .
. . .The Labor Day hurricane of 1935.

75 years ago, on September 2, 1935 a category 5 storm made landfall in the upper keys at Islamorada bringing sustained winds of at least 160 mph and storm surge of 18 to 20 feet.

It would be the first of 3 category 5 storms to find their way to the United Sates in the 20th century (the other two being Camille in '69 and Andrew in '92)

Damage from the Labor Day Storm was estimated at $6 million (1935 dollars), it kicked the holy smoke out of Henry Flagler's Key West Extension of the Florida East Coast Railway and took 408 souls. Those, ironically enough, mostly World War I veterans who were "workingmen" along the rail line.

So to close out this post for Labor Day 2010, I'll borrow a line from local songwriter Terry Cassidy's tune,
"Henry and his Railroad". . .
". . .This morning we'll remember what not to forget."

take a bow

2010-08-31T10:39:00.009-04:00

The Key West Maritime Memorial Museum at the old navy pier on Truman waterfront features two World War II era ships; USS Mohawk and USCGC Ingham are both berthed at the inner cay wall and both, as you might expect, have interesting histories.

USCGC INGHAM is a "Treasury-class" cutter and, to date, the most decorated vessel in the Coast Guard fleet with two Presidential Unit Citations. She was built at the Philadelphia Navy Yard in 1935 and formally commissioned in 1936.

Serving with distinction during World War II on convoy duty in the Atlantic theatre, she sank an enemy submarine in 1942. Transferred to the Pacific theatre in 1944, Ingham served as an amphibious flagship.
She also served during the Korean War (1950-1953) and in Vietnam (1959-1975) where she earned one of those Presidential Unit Citations I mentioned earlier.
After Nam, Ingham was reassigned to regular Coast Guard duties until 1988 when she was decommissioned.

From 1989 to 2009 Ingham was on display at Patriots Point Navel and Maritime Museum in South Carolina where in 1992 she was declared a National Historic Landmark and at the end of her time there and a little refit in drydock, Ingham was brought to Key West.

USS MOHAWK was first assigned patrol and icebreaking duty on the Hudson and Delaware Rivers and at the outbreak of World War II, she had been stationed at Cape May in New Jersey. But at the start of the war in 1941, she was assigned to North Atlantic escort operations with the Greenland Patrol. There she served for the entire war launching better than a dozen attacks against enemy submarines in the doing.

At War's end, Mohawk was placed "in reserve, in commission" status with a skeleton crew and again stationed at Cape May.
Two years later, in 1947, Mohawk was decommissioned and mothballed. But the next year she was bought by the Delaware Bay and River Pilots' Association, and for the next thirty years served as a pilot boat on the Delaware River.

Years later Mohawk was rescued from a Staten Island scrap yard where she'd been rusting away for 15 years or so. She was towed to Miami for major repair by the Miami Dade Historical Maritime Museum who then established the USS Mohawk CGC Memorial Museum and brought her down to us here in
Key West.

As the faithful followers of Key West the Blog know, I am something of a history junkie and the United States Navy is steeped in noble history, myth and tradition. So where better to get an occasional history fix than at the Key West Maritime Memorial Museum.
To Ingham, Mohawk, all who have served on either ship or are serving now to preserve their histories, please accept my gratitude and, take a bow.

nightsky & small miracles

2010-08-29T13:06:00.013-04:00

Not long ago I found myself a once weekly gig working the overnight. It's easy enough work, the pay's good and the extra bucks come in handy. But better than that, while I'm out and about getting it done, I can watch the night sky.

I've always been a sort of amateur, naked eye astronomer.
I can tell most constellations apart and usually the difference between what's a star and what could be a planet. Then, when I'm not sure of what I'm seeing, I know how to look it up.

That said, while I was out and about through the overnight this week, I was followed by this image of the moon and an unusually bright light to it's left. A planet I reckoned but honestly, didn't know which one.

Now here's where one of my small miracles comes in.
Earlier that day, during the daylight hours, I met a young woman walking her puppy; one of those marble pit bulls. Both the woman and the puppy were super friendly and we chatted for several minutes while I patted and played with the pup. The puppy's name, as it turned out, was Jupiter.

Now, I knew Mars was visible in the sky that night but that wasn't the right position for it. Then I remembered the puppy and thought, "what are the odds?" that's gotta be Jupiter
up there. (divine intervention strikes again)

Once I'd finished my gig I shot these few pictures (it's great having a digital camera with a 10 x 48 zoom lens) and judging from the spherical shape, color and random meeting with the puppy earlier that day, decided that it definitely was Jupiter
I was seeing.

But of course for things scientific you always need verification so I went to the "AstroViewer" and, sure enough, Jupiter was in the right position to support my decision but
so too was Uranus.

Hmmm, I wondered. . .
Can you see Uranus with the naked eye?
Well, it turns out that you can but, as far as I know, it only ever appears as a blueish pinpoint of light in the night sky.
My target was decidedly a planet of a different size and color.

So between the size and color, position on the skychart and a chance meeting with a puppy, I'm going with Jupiter.
Of course if any one of you knows better, please let me know.
I never mind being better informed.

laridae & phalacrocoracidae

2010-08-25T15:57:00.005-04:00

sweaty palms

2010-08-24T20:11:00.003-04:00

white street pier

2010-08-21T07:45:00.012-04:00

Every so often I enjoy and hour or two sitting out on the end of the almost 1/4 mile long fishing pier off the Atlantic end of White Street with a sketchbook and con leché to watch
the sunrise

Out among the few joggers, bicycle riders, dog walkers, homeless folks, fishermen and seagulls, it's calm and quiet, the air is cooler than it is inland and the new day's sea breeze carries fresher air.

Well, on one such a morning I got to pondering the pier's backstory. (the why and when of it, you know?)
So when I got back home I climbed on-line to try to find the answers. To my chagrin, there wasn't a whole lot of anything about it. So the next day I got myself over to the library on Fleming Street to ask Key West's history guru,
Tom Hambright, about it.

What I learned was that back in the mid to late 1950's Monroe County had a little surplus money laying around and decided to spend it on infrastructure projects.
What they came up with was construction of a series of "roads to nowhere" like Loop Road and County Road 939 up on Sugarloaf Key.
In 1956, when some of that surplus money was allotted to Key West, the voters decided they wanted a fishing pier and the "unfinished highway to Havana" (another road to nowhere) was proposed and finally built in 1960.

These days the White Street pier is something of a tourist draw, every once in a while there'll be a fishing tournament out there or it'll be part of the course for one of
BW Promotion's official 5K runs and on special occasions (the 4th of July or New Year's Eve) the city uses it for fireworks displays.

out on the water over the weekend

2010-08-09T09:54:00.003-04:00

a word from our sponsor - VIDEO

2010-08-07T12:11:00.004-04:00

click arrow to start video. run time, 1:26

take a bight

2010-08-07T10:29:00.019-04:00

Sometimes I get my head so far up my work and worry,
I forget about all the cool stuff to do and see around Key West. (well, in my case, it's not so much worry - I've been up to the plate a few times so there aren't as many curve balls life can throw at me that I haven't seen before - but I have been known to work non-stop for weeks at a time)
Anyway, maybe that happens to you too.

It didn't happen as much when I was living a half block from the bight on William Street, it couldn't. . .
I'd hear Barry Cuda honky tonkin' on his piano at B.O's Fishwagon on Friday nights from my front porch; or saxman Marty Stonely (sorry, no website) on Sundays at Schooner Wharf jammin' reggae and calypso.
The music always drew me in and in the time it took to get to my feet, walk that half block singing the chorus of "Three Little Birds", I'd be there knowing. . .
"every little ting gonna be alright".

But now, living over here under the flight path on the cemetery side of town, it's a little different. The rousing sounds are the roar the jet engines passing overhead (but I don't get inspired to go to the airport) and when I finally do remember to get my dose of live music, it's an easy 15 minute walk; just enough time run "In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida" in my head while I take it.

What brought all this up for me was talking with a buddy who said that this "bullsh*t economy" had him working so much this past year that he hadn't been out on his boat for months and, did I see on T.V. Goldman Sachs this and
Obama Care that. . .

He raved on for a while and I wondered, privately, how a guy working so much made time for watching so much television.
"I'm telling you man", he continued "I'm so beat at the end of the days it's all I can do to crash in front of the tube with a brew at night." (. . .oh, that's how)

So I'm thinking, work all day everyday and then some at a job you don't like and worry that the ends still won't really meet and then let the 24 hour T.V. talking heads badger you 'til bedtime with crisis and chaos and an Afghan girl with her nose cut off.
That's a life you live, maybe, in New Jersey; but here?
In paradise?

So what's the fix?
I'm guessing the details are different for everyone and for sure, we all need to take care of business but the broad-stroke, at least for me is first, don't take it all so seriously (face it, in 100 years we'll all be dead), then relax and remember who you are and where you came from.
Make a list of the things that lighten your heart, bring peace to your mind and pleasure to your body.
Lay it all out on the table in front of you, your true ground of being, embrace it with all your love and take a bight.

candid cayo hueso

2010-07-29T05:14:00.003-04:00