Walking into the gym the other day I saw one of the boaters, who tend to avoid the place, on the treadmill.
"New Year's resolution?" I asked him.
"No," he said. "I usually get my exercise outside. But my phone told me my activity level was low recently."
I almost said to him: Time to get a new phone.
This weekend’s reviews of the life of Bob Dole reminded us of a time when politicians could disagree on the issues but still get along and treat each other with respect. Much of that, I suspect, was due to the fact that, like Dole, many of them served in the armed forces during World War II, when one was thrown into contact with Americans from different backgrounds and cultures. For the most part, today’s Congresspeople have not had the same exposure to people unlike themselves, including those who served in the military. More and more, we live and interact with our own tribes, an unfortunate situation that is only made worse by the new identity culture.
At a party Saturday night I got talking to a woman who moved here from South Korea when she was 10. I asked her if she'd been the target of any racism recently, and she said no. While not denying that there have been attacks on Asian-Americans, she said that, all in all, Americans are a pretty tolerant and accepting people.
"We set the bar so high here," she said. "These people who think America is a racist country should go outside it and see what other countries are like."
On our way back from Palm Coast we stopped in DeLand, which I had long wanted to visit because of its acclaimed main street. In 2017 it was designated “America’s Main Street,” and I am something of a connoisseur of main streets. Once, visiting a magazine editor in Marin County, I was asked what I’d liked to see that afternoon – the options included Muir Woods – and I suggested a stroll through downtown San Anselmo (the editor’s hometown).
The entry into DeLand was promising, down a leafy street that took us past Stetson University, and we found a parking spot at one end of the famous main street (aka Woodland Blvd.). It was attractive, lined with two- and three-story buildings; many of the businesses hunkered under large awnings. There were no empty storefronts – always a good sign – and one used bookstore, earning it a “Swick’s Main Street” designation, though it took me a while to find a book I wished to buy. My new rule is never walk out of an independent bookstore empty-handed.
The only thing the street seemed to lack was people. It was after lunch hour, and perhaps DeLand is experiencing 100 percent employment, and Stetson has the world's most diligent students, but the place had a somewhat lonely feel. This was made even more noticeable by the traffic, which was tremendous. Cars and trucks flowed in a constant stream but few of them stopped. Of course this made it, unfortunately, a very American main street.
Last week I stopped at Greenwise, Publix’s boutique supermarket in downtown Fort Lauderdale. It was busy with office workers on their lunch breaks. A line stretched in front of the deli counter, where baguette sandwiches sat in pretty tan rows. The view reminded me of Europe, its bakeries and train station snack bars.
After waiting for several minutes, I pointed to one of the turkey sandwiches. The bread looked delicious, with its crisp crust and spongy interior. The woman asked if I wanted it toasted and I said no, I’ll do it at home. The privilege of the non-office worker.
At home I placed the sandwich in the toaster oven, then I removed it and took a large bite. The top was warm, but some of the contents – the tomato and turkey – were cold. Why would a recently made sandwich be cold? Taking it apart, I examined the bread. It was not fluffy and fresh; it was crumbly and old. I wondered if it had sat in a refrigerator overnight. But even straight from the oven it would not have been close – in consistency or taste – to a French baguette.
Fort Lauderdale may at times look like a big, sophisticated city – but it’s not there yet.