The recent photo of Elon Musk standing in a cabinet meeting in T-shirt and ballcap brought back an unpleasant memory for me.
In the spring of 2008, I was summoned to the managing editor’s office to discuss a redesign of the Travel section, which I had been editor of for 18 years. The m.e. sat quietly at her desk while a ballcapped young man I had never seen before explained his plans for my section. These involved discontinuing long travel narratives – three of which had landed in The Best American Travel Writing anthologies – and diminishing my presence. My column, he noted blithely, would now appear below the fold and jump inside.
I had no idea who this man was. I wondered, naturally, about his background – his knowledge of travel writing, his experience of travel. I assumed they were slim, and that he had been given the job of remaking the section primarily because of his age and his presumed ability to connect with younger readers (an oxymoron even back then).
I sat mostly speechless, and with the sudden realization that the world had changed, at least in the newsroom, and that people like me were no longer welcome. A few months later, I was laid off.
Saturday afternoon we drove to Savor Cinema (about a five-minute trip) to watch the live action shorts nominated for an Academy Award. We see them every year; some years they’re better than others; but we’re always grateful for the opportunity to watch them, as well as other movies mainstream theaters ignore. Next month, at Cinema Paradiso in Hollywood, we will see Mohammad Rasoulof’s The Seed of the Sacred Fig, which was shot in secret in Tehran, and is also up for an Oscar. These two little theaters, run by the Fort Lauderdale International Film Festival, have hung on while other art movie houses, like the Tower Theater in Miami and The Living Room in Boca Raton, have closed. Movie lovers in Broward are lucky to have them
The first day of 2025 I took a bike ride along the New River. The Deadheads were gone from in front of the Broward Center, but diners at the House on the River performed a modern imitation of Renoir’s “Luncheon of the Boating Party.” Then I entered the urban canyon, passing more flaneurs, all the way to the Stranahan House, where a small crowd waited for the water taxi. Boats, people, buildings, trees, bicycles, dogs all beautifully cast in soft winter sunlight.
Saturday morning we drove to Palm Beach. Carols emanated from the large tree on Worth Avenue and Santa strolled the sidewalk past parked Jaguars and Bentleys. But the wind, whipping off the ocean, kept the crowds away.
After lunch, we drove to The Breakers but weren’t allowed in; the guard was very apologetic but said three conferences were currently at the hotel and he wasn’t letting visitors through, not even for a quick glimpse of the decorated lobby. It was, he insisted, a one-time thing. So we drove across the bridge and had tea and pastries at Johan’s Joe, where the staff were preparing for that evening’s Swedish Christmas dinner.
At home I got on my bike and rode to the New River. East of the Seventh Avenue bridge docked boats with Christmas lights appeared, including a tug that sported a marlin, a peacock, a pink flamingo and a Santa in a Hawaiian shirt. Farther along, I found people sitting in folding chairs in front of the closed Downtowner. More people sat past the Third Avenue bridge, and a man was making tacos in front of Masa & More, the restaurant with possibly the windiest outdoor dining in Fort Lauderdale.
Then yesterday afternoon we drove to Trinity Cathedral in Miami for the service of lessons and carols. A few of the lessons were read in Spanish; one of the carols was sung in French. Over a hundred people joined the Anglican Chorale on the familiar carols – “Joy to the World” and “Hark! The Herald Angels Sing” – and for a few moments, there in the century-old sanctuary in the heart of Miami, all did seem wonderful and bright.
I went to Fogo de Chao for lunch yesterday and heard "O Come, O Come Emmanuel" sung in a kind of samba style.
Across our canal, a handful of houses stretch along a private road. I drive down it once a year to see the elaborate Christmas display put up by one of the homeowners, who puts out a bench for people to sit on. The other day I rode my bike to see if the decorations were up yet and, for the first time, noticed the old-fashioned lampposts that line the road. At the base of each post were four small figureheads (facing north, east, south, and west) and above them were the words: THE MIAMI RIVIERA – FLA – CORAL GABLES. Apparently, they are old streetlamps from The City Beautiful that someone, at some point, brought to Fort Lauderdale. These are the things you discover when you get out of your car.