The Winter issue of The American Scholar is now out, with my essay "Florida Man." It is a defense of the state against the people outside it who continue to make fun of it and the writers inside it who insist on sensationalizing it. The full essay is not yet online, but here is the beginning: https://theamericanscholar.org/florida-man/
Friday we went to the Stranahan House to hear a lecture about Mary Brickell, and yesterday we went to the Museum of Art to see a documentary, Taking Venice, about the U.S. entry of Robert Rauschenberg at the 1964 Biennale. (It was part of the Fort Lauderdale International Film Festival.) After the movie, we went for dinner to Big City Tavern and when the waiter welcomed us to the restaurant I thought he said, “Welcome to the big city.”
Went to the Fort Lauderdale International Film Festival last night to see The Barolo Boys, a documentary about the group of Italian winemakers who broke from tradition and put the Nebbiolo grape wine on the map. Before the film, pasta and garlic rolls were served in the courtyard, courtesy of Gianni’s restaurant in Pompano Beach, and afterwards, people lingered around cocktail tables on a closed-off 6th Street. A large screen rose at one end of the street, and I asked one of the attendees if they were going to show a movie on it. Not a movie, he said, the Thursday night football game.
We left the party in the park and headed to Himmarshee Village for the Dead of the Dead celebration. It was moved this year from Huizenga Plaza to Esplanade Park, a much better venue, more secluded and contained, free from the bridge traffic on Andrews Ave. A large crowd gathered around the stage, where a choir of adorable Mexican children had assembled, and spread onto a closed-off 2nd Street. The procession soon headed down 2nd, made up of people in costumes and elaborate face paint. Their ranks were interspersed by large skeleton puppets, each one manipulated by a team of handlers. Dusk made the scene even more atmospheric.
Saturday we attended our neighborhood’s semi-annual “Party in the Park,” which was shorter this year – 2-5 – and better attended than in the past. We talked to a young woman who grew up in South Florida and was planning to move to North Carolina – she didn’t like all the development and wanted to be around nature – and a man who moved here from Philadelphia and liked the fact that there were more and more things – bars, cafes, etc. - that he could walk to. He said that every Friday he and three friends walk to lunch on the beach and then walk back. The entire outing takes about three hours. But, he said, it’s a pleasant walk, most of it along Las Olas. He did add that he takes a towel in summer to wipe off his sweat before entering the restaurant.
The other evening, taking advantage of the nice weather, Hania and walked to Tarpon River Brewing. On the way I reflected that my dream was always to live within walking distance of a bar, a bakery, and a bookstore – and now, in a way, I do. The bagel shop on 7th Street is now open – selling enormous, oddly shaped discs – and a few blocks south of it sits Bob’s News, which along with newspapers and magazines stocks an impressive collection of paperback books. (Though I’ve never bought one, and always drive there for the weekend Wall Street Journal.) And yesterday, walking home from the Fort Lauderdale Forum, I learned that the jazz club on 6th Street is going to reopen. So add music to my ambulatory mix.