Pele - O Rei

Pelé, the purveyor of O Jogo Bonito, (The Beautiful Game), has passed on.

Although I had yet to become a die-hard fan of futebol when I went to Brazil with the Peace Corps in 1977, even I had heard of this great player. 

Within a week of arriving at our PC training site in Lavras, Minas Gerais, I learned that O Rei, (the king), had been born and raised only an hour or two away in the town of Trés Corações. I no longer remember the exact reason I happened to go there one day, but I will never forget it.

This humble little town in the interior had built a statue of Edson Arantes do Nacimento, in the aptly named Praça Pelé. (Pele Plaza.) 

I have very few pictures of my time in the Peace Corps. Film and processing costs were very expensive, and all shots had to be rationed. I knew at the time that I wanted a picture of me in front of the legend that is Pelé.

Thanks to him, and all the Brazilian players and fans, by the time the 1978 World Cup came around I was thoroughly hooked on the game. And am until this day.

Pelé and this hometown will forever remain a cherished memory. 

Twitter Reconnaissance

At long last, the evil censors are being exposed. Any human, with a minimum of three brain cells, knows what has been going on for the past several years. (Actually for much longer, but that’s for another day.) Voices in opposition to government policies have been suppressed, canceled, and vilified. But then along came Elon and the narrative is changing. Free Speech is making a comeback and the world owes a debt of gratitude to the electric car/rocket guy.

If I had a strong enough telescope, I could just about see Twitter headquarters from my adobe in the East Bay. So why wasn’t I over there getting a scoop on the goings on?

For one, I had not been to San Fransico in a few years. This had nothing to do with the covid fiasco. It had everything to do with not wanting to put my life on the line to travel on a BART train, and on into the hellhole that is SF. Even if one does not get robbed, mugged, or harassed on the train, it is not a pleasant trip. Nasty cars, piercing, squealing wheels, disgusting air. However, in the name of journalism, I decided to go forth and report.

The first hurdle would be to find a parking space at the BART station. It used to be that you had to arrive no later than 6 AM to find a spot. Generally, after 10 AM a few spaces became available. To my surprise, there were plenty of open spaces and I bet there had been all morning.

I noticed that the train, like the parking lot, was rather empty, which had never been my experience on a weekday. Fortunately for me, the ride from the East Bay to the Civic Center station was uneventful. Not one drunk, drug addict, or ill-behaved individual.

Once I exited the station and went above ground to Market Street, I took in the City. It felt so different than anywhere else in the huge metropolis that is the SF Bay Area. It feels like a city, is the only way to explain it. And although it was cold as all get-out, the sun was shining, and I briefly remembered what a glorious city San Francisco had once been.

The theme of emptiness continued as I made my way to Twitter HQ. I had never been to the City during the week when the streets were not fairly filled with pedestrians, cars, busses, and bicycles. Very odd, indeed.

I strolled by a group of workers repairing a sidewalk and got a nose-full of porta-potty fumes. When my nose still burned a block later, I realized the stench was coming from all the piss on the streets. From my morning excursion, I can state with authority that every single inch of San Francisco sidewalks are saturated in urine. I suppose I’m lucky I didn’t see any piles of poop and also avoided any needles.

The glorious Mayan-inspired, Art Deco building, (rather trashed by the unattractive Twitter sign), beckoned me. I walked along the front of the building but only saw an entrance to a high-end grocery shop. I turned left at the corner, walked along the side of the building, and still no entrance. Back on Market, I asked a couple of guys doing city security how the heck I was supposed to get into Twitter. They pointed down the street to the entrance to the lobby of the building, which was not for Twitter, but they could direct me.  Western Furniture Exchange Building

Two well-dressed young men manned the reception desk. This was old San Fransico; class all the way. Back when I was a kid, I remember the elevators in I. Magnin’s, were operated by ladies in taupe uniforms, white gloves, and white sticks that they used to coral the riders. I miss those days.

When I asked about how to get to the Twitter entrance, one of the men pointed me in the direction of the Twitter gatekeeper around the corner. I almost missed her. My mind had gone back a few decades and I was searching for a carefully attired matron. I had momentarily forgotten that high-tech dress code is not the same as the men at reception.

She was very kind, soft spoken, and there was no way I was getting that lobby tour. From where I stood, I couldn’t even see a sign indicating the entrance that I searched for.

So, back out on the street, I again walked down the side of the building and turned left into a walkway that separated the historic building from a new one. Astroturf and a firepit sat off to one side, and then I saw it. The famous Twitter lobby. No wonder I couldn’t find it at the address given. It’s in the new building to the rear.

I walked over to the massive front glass panels and doors and waved to the young man at reception. As with the men at the first building, this one also dressed in a suit and tie. Classy. He walked over and I asked if I could come in. I’m not at all sure he could hear me, but it was obvious the door would not be opened. I smiled and mimed if it would be all right to take pictures. I think he said OK. Or at least he didn’t send out security to stop me. Yet another polite, kind front desk person.

I sent the lobby photo to a friend the next day. He asked if that was where Elon had arrived with a sink. Son of a gun! I hadn’t even realized that when I was there. It was a different angle, and it was rather too cold to think properly, so I’ll stick with that as my excuse.

Although I didn’t get the lobby tour or get to personally thank Elon and his crew for doing the work to save the world, I felt pleased that I’d at least made the effort.

Walking back down Market St towards the BART station, I noticed one of the historic electric line cars. A while back, San Francisco purchased vintage electric streetcars from all over the world and run them on a line from downtown to the Embarcadero Pier. They are glorious!  

SF Historic Streetcars

All the cars have their place of origin somewhere on the side. I saw that this one was from the El Paso – Juarez line. It seemed appropriate as El Paso is in the news every day. It saddened me to think that at one time they were sister cities. Commerce between the two ran non-stop. I thought about all those people, all those years ago, who used to travel back and forth between cities and countries, and it was as normal as catching a bus downtown.

 

My, how the world has changed.

 

The Pony Express Has Yet To Arrive

With every passing day, further proof is published on the disastrous consequences of the evil Covid PSYOP fiasco.

Finally, many who ignored the evidence, or were tricked into believing all the Doomsday propaganda, are now admitting they were duped. Except for in California, where apparently, they are still waiting for the press release.

To name a few of the now acknowledged harms:

Enormous numbers of vaccine deaths, serious injuries, and general excess deaths worldwide. Massive increases in stillbirths, miscarriages, and infertility. Weird blood clots found in autopsies. Young, healthy, athletes dropping dead every week.

In addition to the medical horrors, there is the lifetime damage done to a generation of children locked out of school and masked up for two years. And the vast number of small businesses forced to shutter, and now lost forever. Or the untold grief experienced by seniors locked away from their loved ones and any human contact. The list goes on.

Remarkably, none of negative consequences resulting from the whole Covid debacle has penetrated the brains of the populace, or the airways, in California.

Every single local TV station in the San Francisco Bay Area runs Get Boosted promos from dawn to dusk. Anchors warn about the dangers of not wearing a mask and not getting that 5th jab. School districts may not mandate masks, but children are shunned if they do not do so. Radio announcements urge parents to mask kids above 2 years old and vax kids of all ages, including infants. Covid stats run in local, online news outlets and on TV Chyrons.

Around town, people still wear masks while driving alone, jogging, or riding a bike. Fifty percent of shoppers in grocery stores and elsewhere are masked. People walk out into the street to avoid passing me on the sidewalk.

No amount of warnings at the beginning of the pandemic, or the subsequent factual information reported – then suppressed for nearly two years, has shaken the locals from their stance on the Deadly Virus. They ignored it then; they ignore it now. Even with the recently released documents proving the government has been working with Big Tech to censor valid information that contradicted the government edicts, they appear unaware.

These revelations matter not a bit to the people I know who are suddenly coming down with deadly diseases and conditions. As soon as they check in with their local medical practice for treatment, they happily accept booster number four or five. That the latest booster is for now-extinct viruses, they do not question. That they are already compromised by a toxic spike protein does not stop them from injecting even more of it into their system.

Starting in early 2020, I sent out links of reports and interviews by esteemed doctors, virologists, epidemiologists, and others to friends and family. I thought that if I just kept talking to them, provided scientific backup to my claims, they would eventually see the light. How wrong I was.

I watched as not only friends and family, but the entire world, dove deeper into the pit of governmental lies and propaganda. Now, many of them are waking up and seeing the light. They acknowledge the misdeeds of those who inflicted such damage on the world. But not one of them is someone I personally know.

Granted, I do have two friends who have been on my exact same journey, seeking out the truth for the past nearly three years. Without them to talk to, I truly may have gone mad.

To the rest, I am still a conspiracy theorist, bent on killing all those around me.

I fear that all efforts to convey the truth about what our government orchestrated against the populace will never be acknowledged in the Golden State. Afterall, we still have Covid Emergency Powers until February 2023, and most likely beyond. It’s a lost cause.

 

If it's Weird, There's a Berkeley Connection

Anyone with a functioning brain knows there’s something hinky going on with the Paul Pelosi attack. It’s not possible for a random person to simply break into a house in Pacific Heights, San Francisco, let alone the Pelosi’s. They are mega-rich. She is mega-famous. It is a sure bet they have top-of-the-line security. And most likely staff on site seeing as Mr. P is an elderly dude alone in a giant house.

But leave it to all the local politicos to immediately put out statements that the nutcase involved was a Right-Wing Violent Person.

SF Representative Jackie Speier from an interview on KTVU: SF GATE

…"This was a vicious attack and this was spurred by those who want to do harm to those of us who want to protect our democracy.”

…"When you told me the line was, ‘Where’s Nancy?’ that’s code. That’s code for what the Oath Keepers and the other groups that associated themselves with then President Trump and his effort to consecrate a coup in this country. And we’ve got to fight back, and I’m going to be one of those who’s going to be vigilant in terms of doing that."

 

And from the Mayor of Berkeley:

From the riot on the Capitol to the attempted kidnap of Michigan Gov Gretchen Whitmer, the plot to blow up the CA Democratic HQ and now this invasion of Speaker Pelosi’s home, there must by unambiguous, unilateral rejection of the dangerous cancer that is growing extremism. (2/3)

— Jesse Arreguin #GetVaccinated (@JesseArreguin) Oct 28, 2022  

 

For the first time in ages, I flipped through the local tv news and heard the same propaganda from each and every newscaster. There was a time in the Bay Area when we had real reporters. But that has changed. Not one of them will even entertain balanced reporting.

When I saw the photo of the alleged perpetrator’s home in Berkeley, I decided to find it and take a look. Most people do not realize how small the city actually is. It takes up only a tiny slice of the East Bay metropolis. The house should be easy enough to find.

With only the house number visible on a garbage can, I went to work. It could only be in one of two neighborhoods. Run down abodes are now few and far between in Berkeley. Most have been renovated and sell for over a million dollars.

I soon eliminated area number one because it appears that all the falling apart homes have been upgraded. Using google maps, I scoured street numbers in the second neighborhood and soon found it.

Once charming Victorian cottages had morphed into Hippie Communes in the 60’s and 70’s. And most have been sold off for a pretty penny and renovated. I am not sure why anyone with a garbage heap like that shown in the photo has not cashed out.

Zillow lists the house as being built in 1896, making it one of the older homes in the city. Even in its dilapidated sate, its value is listed as over one million dollars. But exist, it does.

And it resembles more of a homeless camp than a proper home. I’d say a fair amount of drug use goes on inside and out. When you grow up surrounded by crazy people on drugs, it is easy to spot.

I have my theories about what really happened at the Pacific Heights home, and none of them have anything to do with a whacko breaking in and randomly attacking Mr. P.

It would be nice if just one of the Bay Area news stations or newspapers could go back to doing real journalism instead of their one-sided reporting.

It would be nice if they ever reported on the violence done by Antifa, BLM, and other “progressive” entities.

 

Independent Authors Beware

As an independent author, I have relied on Amazon’s KDP publishing programs and used their Author Central page to advertise and promote my books. For this, I am grateful. Without it, no one would ever have heard of Kate McVaugh, nor have read any of my books. Now it seems, that may no longer be the case.

A few weeks ago, I noticed that not all of my eight books were showing up on my Author's Page. Things occasionally go wonky in the tech world, so I let it go.

Then a few days ago I noticed that it had gotten much worse. Maybe three books would show up across the banner on my Author’s Page.  Below that, where all my books had previously been listed, only one or two were visible. This was not good.

I wrote to Amazon Author Central, the department in charge, expecting to hear back that it was all down to a slight technical problem. This was their devastating reply.

                                                     ***

Greetings from the Author Central team!

Please note that that is no mistake or error. It is a new design of Author Pages which our developers made called Top Picks (which changes from customer to customer-including yourself- and it will change constantly based on your shopping behaviors and each customer's shopping behaviors).

The Top Picks feature allows Amazon customers to see personalized recommendations from your catalog of books. Customers will see this on your Author Page and it will suggest books based on these traits:

• New releases and pre-order books matching their interest.
• Unread books from a series they started.
• The customer’s reading and purchase history.

The goal is to help them find more books they want to read from you. Each customer will have a different recommendation, including you, if you’re logged into your Amazon account.

Author Pages currently support the “Top Picks” feature in the US and UK marketplaces.

Since this feature is updated based on customer shopping habits and changes frequently to reflect current buying patterns, I'm not able to modify it.

While changes to the feature are not possible, I hope this information better explains the way the feature works on our website.

Thank you for using Amazon Author Central”

                                                                    ***

Were I some controversial, well-known author, this would not be a surprise. Amazon has been playing around with such authors for a few years now. But I am not famous. Added to that, there is not one controversial topic in any of my fiction writing. True, my blog posts might possibly be a bit more on the provocative meter, but no one really reads my essays. I’m lucky if one hundred people a week dip into my blog.

Most alarming is that Amazon is now deciding which books a person should read based on “their shopping behaviors”. Even if one is not logged into their Amazon account, the wizards at the company feel they can mind-read a computer and only show certain books.

I checked popular authors who write in one genre. All their books are listed. I write across several genres so I presume Amazon feels that if someone pulls up one of my mysteries, they could not possibly be interested in my thrillers, literary fiction, or anything else.

Even more alarming is that my one and only Paranormal Romance seems to pop up as my only book more often than not. The Curse Breaker of Cairo is my only naughty book and there will never be another. I am quite happy with the tale, but I do not ever promote it to anyone.

I am at a total loss for how to proceed. It is true that I have not yet been able to fully support myself with book sales, but I have never lost hope that one day it will happen. I spend hours and hours writing, working on my Amazon Author’s Page, and blog. I’m not sitting around eating bon bons and waiting to be discovered for a book I wrote years ago. But now that Amazon has decided to basically eliminate half, to 90%, of my books that a prospective reader might see, what is the point of it all?

No longer can I pass out a business card and tell people that they can see all my books on Amazon. They can’t. I have lost prospective customers before even given a chance.

Today I went back on Public Square 
to try and figure out how to best use their service as a platform for my books. It’s a bit confusing, and not really geared toward authors, but it remains my only hope at this point. Possibly I can start an Independent Author trend on Public Square. It’s a thought.

Meanwhile, I will continue to write and try not to feel so bummed by the latest tech trend. I am certainly not the first author to be silenced.

Power to the Indy writers out there!

                  ******************   

25 Oct update:

I sent the above listed concerns to Amazon Central. The reply is below. Takeaway: Authors and readers do have input. Any concerns about the current “Top Picks Feature”, should be addressed to Amazon. It might just be possible to get rid of this crazy feature.

                                                                          ***

“Thanks for taking time to share your thoughts about "The Top Picks feature". Customer feedback like yours is very important to helping us continue to improve our products and services. From time to time, we test both new and existing features to determine which features or services provide a great customer experience.

We’re unable to provide information about future plans but we will consider this as feedback and pass on to business team.

I appreciate your thoughts and will be sure to pass your suggestion along.

Thank you for using Amazon Author Central,

Your feedback helps us improve our service.”

                                                                              ***

26 Oct Update:

My Author's Page is back to normal!  I still cannot believe it and check several times a day to make sure I'm not imagining it.

Could it be that a non-famous author wrote to Amazon Author Central, and they actually took my concerns seriously?  Whatever happened, I am extremely greatful.

 

Thinking About Matlacha

Matlacha, that lovely little strip of a town where I stayed for two weeks in August, has been hit hard by Hurricane Ian. I cannot stop thinking about the people and business owners I met over my short stay on their magical island.

After flying all night from California to Florida, with no sleep, and nothing more than a protein bar and a cup of yogurt, I needed nourishment. Where to go in Matlacha? I decided to simply walk up a block or two from Matlacha Ave, turn right on Pine Island Drive and hope some sort of food venue would be close by.

The first place I spotted was the The Blue Dog Bar & Grill. I approached a group of people just leaving and asked about the food. “The best food in Matlacha,” came the answer.

As we continued to talk about Matlacha, the woman told me she lived on Pine Island but was originally from California. And then it turned out we’d grown up a few miles apart and we briefly reminisced about the good-old-crazy-old days.

I walked into the cool air of the Blue Dog and was seated in a cozy booth. Being off-season, only a few people were inside. I took in the fun décor and cool vibe of the place. Definitely a joint I would have worked in in my younger years.

The staff were all top-notch. My server, Chip, filled me in on various menu items. At that point, I needed red meat and an energy kick, so got a burger. Delicious. And of course, I needed a to-go order of Key Lime pie. I left not only sated, but happy. What a first day of vacation experience!

A few days later I realized I had neglected to get a few items at the Cape Coral Publix. (And Publix is the absolute best grocery chain in the known world.) I knew Matlacha was only a bitty stretch of land, but certainly there had to be a mini mart on the island. I set out to explore.

Many places were still closed for the summer. But as I walked by the Olde Fish House I thought I heard voices. I walked around the back and found a couple seated outside on the covered deck. The gentleman was busy painting a blue door that led inside. After I asked about if there were any markets in town, I stayed a while and chatted.

His daughter owned the place, but I got the impression that he had either once owned it or worked there. The couple had definitely both been in the restaurant business. They filled me in on a bit of history of the surrounding area. They then suggested I head down the road and over the bridge to another place that might have supplies. (I did manage to get back and had my final Matlacha meal sitting out on that beautiful deck, overlooking the water.)

I am all for walking wherever I go, but it really was hot and humid, and I’d left that walking stick in California. However, I figured my bum knee could manage a short-ish stroll unaided.

Once over the bridge, I ran into a man leaf-blowing the area in front of the The Bridgewater Inn. We got to talking and he told me how he and his wife ran the Inn, about all the work they had put into it, and their plans for the future. He explained that the guests could fish right off of their balconies and clean the fish and cook them without leaving the inn. What a place!

I also met lots of neighbors during my stay. One woman joined me on my evening walk and pointed out other places to walk. I met the neighbor who, like me, did not like air conditioning inside the house. He had all his windows open and fans going. I believe I only saw one other house with windows open.

There were other people in my little Airbnb that I hung out with on the patio overlooking the canal on Second Street. One couple from Cape Coral had driven their little boat over and spent the days exploring the mangroves. Another couple drove down for the weekend. One woman was there with her mother who lived in Cape Coral. I honestly can’t remember a time when I’ve met such fun, interesting folks.

Another day I ran into a woman who was readying a house to rent out. As with most everyone else I met, I asked about where might be a good place to settle down in the area. She suggested St James City and recommended I take a hop down to the the Ragged Ass Saloon. It was Sunday and they had live music.

It was a bit of an Uber ride, but the Ragged Ass was fun. My server there was a lovely young lady who had grown up in St James City. She loved living there and encouraged me to look around. When I said I didn’t have a car, she offered to lend me hers. I didn’t take her up on her offer but was quite touched.

I spent a bit of cash in Frills Galleria Clothing store. I probably could have bought a whole lot more except that I knew once I got back to the cold, grey, San Fransico Bay Area, the items would sit in my closet along with all my other tropical dresses.

Being a bit of a sugar addict, I of course stopped by CW Fudge Factory a few times. I chatted with the owner and heard all about the history of his shop.

I enjoyed the wonderful art and gardens at both Leoma Lovegrove's and the The Gallery of Matlacha.  I loved the contents of Island Visions Gallery. The owners and staff of each shop were charming and helpful.

Although I did not stay at Angler's Inn Motel, (I’m not an angler), I did pass it every day on my way out. From what I hear, people love the place.

And now many of the establishments I visited have either been completely swept away by the hurricane, or severely damaged. Many of those people I talked to just a few short weeks ago have lost so much, if not everything.

What I can offer is free eBooks. Maybe a bit of escapism can help. My stories are light and fun. I even have two in my Tropical Seaside Villages series that remind me of Matlacha. They are also quite uplifting.

Should anyone in Matlacha, Pine Island, or actually anywhere, need a book or two, please use the contact box on this page. Simply let me know what book or books you would like, and I’ll get them off to you. (If you want all 8, I’m happy to do that.)

My thoughts are with all of you in that part of Florida where I hope to live someday soon.

 

Carmen Amato Reviews "A Neapolitan Intrigue"

Carmen Amato, the wonderful author of the Detective Emilia Cruz thrillers, has posted a review of my thriller, A Neapolitan Intrigue. 

Past and present collide in this cleaver thriller that moves between present-day Naples, Italy, and Berkeley, California in 1969. A Neapolitan Intrigue deals with serious topics with a smooth prose and a dab of humor at the right moments.  I read it in one day and learned dome history too. 

Letty White is a recently retired security consultant living in Naples. Her background includes a stint as a linguist for the Central Intelligence Agency as well as Interpol.  Just as she is wondering if la dolce vita in Naples is what she truly wants, local ex-Interpol friends who own a security company find a photo of Letty as a teenager in the pocket of a dead man. 

Read the entire review here: Review of Neapolitan Intrigue

Get Ms Amato's wonderful books here: Carmen Amato Amazon

And get my books here: Kate McVaugh Amazon

Meanwhile, I need to get back to working on the sequel. Letty, still in Naples, just might have run into a few more dilemmas. 

Re-thinking Florida.... Maybe

Florida was a whole lot of what I love, and a bit too much of what I hate. Now that I’m back to Crazy Town, CA, I find I need a new strategy. Do I really move to Florida, and if so, where?

The weather, as expected, was heavenly. Even in August, I love it. Nights and mornings had perfect temps, thunderstorms arrived every afternoon and also a few mornings – what could be better?

Regrettably, a lot. But that had to do with the Airbnb I’d booked. I had discovered it months ago while trying to find a funky adobe on a bit of water. Situated in Matlacha, it looked perfect. A four-plex, built in the early 1950’s, and originally a small fisherman’s cottage. Most likely, only the front two units are original, with the others added a few decades ago.

The unit I had booked sat closest to the canal. Widows on three sides and, with the front door open, air circulation from every direction. I walked in and felt I was in heaven. As soon as I dumped my bags at the door, I went around to open every single window in the place so as to be enveloped with tropical breezes.

Sealed Jalousie Windows

The entire cottage had louvered/jalousie windows. (Jalousie was a new word for me.) These are the ones with windowpanes that are cranked open. They are perfect for air flow in hot climates. I approached the first, raised the blind to find the crank handle, and was dismayed to see there wasn’t one.

I checked all the other windows and although the crank mechanism stood intact, no handle could be found. Maybe I could simply push them open. (I had done that in the past at other houses.) When that didn’t work, I took a walk around the outside.

Oh no! Every single window had been painted shut, and screws had been inserted to prevent one from trying to open them.

Quickly, I went back in a sent a message to the owner asking how to open the windows. Her reply, “They cannot be opened due to architectural reasons that cannot be changed by us.” 

Huh? What did that mean? Later I heard that there were historic preservation codes for the older homes in Matlacha which, to me, would mean that the owner would not be allowed to nail the jalousie windows shut.

I began to freak out. It was deathly hot and stuffy indoors. There were two junky, old, noisy wall air-condition units, but I hate AC. I had come to Florida to bathe my senses in tropical bliss.

Main Drag Matlacha

Since the owners are European and do not reside in Florida, I was not sure what else I could do. But then the manager showed up. I explained that I needed to open the windows.

Her answer was along the lines of “You can’t possibly survive in Florida in the summer without air conditioning. This is the reason the owners sealed all the windows.”

Again, huh? I have lived all over the world in hot and humid climates and never once had AC. Or if I did, it was old and junky and sounded like a jet engine taking off. I might use it to cool down the house for about ten minutes, but then it’s off.

Of further concern is that there was no egress from the bedroom, which is located on the other side of kitchen/passageway. If a fire were to start in the front room or kitchen, one would be toast with no escape route in sight. When I mentioned this to the owner, that they were not in compliance with fire codes, I was told I was wrong.

Upshot is I spent a fortune on a two-week trip that was not very fun. Lesson learned: steer clear of Airbnb. Had I been in a hotel, I would have checked out the following day. With Airbnb, one has no recourse. I even contacted the owners upon my return and thought they might offer a bit of a refund. No such luck. Apparently it was my fault that I had not asked about the windows in advance.

I will never understand why people move to Florida to live inside hermetically sealed, freezing cold homes. As I walked around my tiny neighborhood of three canals, I noticed that only one home had its windows open. Jalousie windows on the front and sides of the home had been cranked open to their maximum. Through them, I could see ceiling fans turning. At least there was one sane person on the island.

Aside from a disgustingly hot, stuffy, and claustrophobic cottage, that I endured the entire time, there is the accessibility situation.

Matlacha Ave

I knew Matlacha was an island that connected to another island. But I hadn’t really thought that through. Once one leaves the little areas off the main road, all sense of peace and quiet disappears. I would walk out of my place, go a few blocks and I was on a highway. Possibly not a highway, but it felt like it. In other words, there was no cute town to roam around. No little grocery store. Nothing but the main drag. At this time of year, it wasn’t too bad. In the winter, when all the tourists arrive, apparently it’s a nightmare of traffic and noise.

Aside from that, to get to a supermarket requires driving on the Florida roads that I hate. Massive, modern, lanes-wide throughfares that carry the populace to the stores. I Uber it whenever I travel, but that’s a holiday thing, not good for everyday living.

I lived in Ocean Beach CA, when I was a student at SDSU. At the time, it was a bit of a hippie/surfer/college-student town. I loved it. I used to see the oldsters on their adult tricycles tooling around OB. I swore back then that when I got to their age, I too would own a baby-blue tricycle. And since I now have arrived at that point in life, it is what I want.

There must be somewhere in Florida where I can get a tiny little place to live and be able to ride around on three wheels. I want a small-town, friendly-neighborhood type place. I do not want to drive. I do not want to navigate massive roads to go and buy supplies. But where is that secret locale hiding? 

I got lots of suggestions from various people I spoke to when I was there. But then I look at a map of Florida and I am lost. I cannot possibly go to every city in the state and search for my home. I do know I want West Coast Florida, but where? I will take all recommendations.

At least back in CA, I can open all the doors and windows. It isn’t as warm and lovely as Florida, but at least we’re getting into the best months of the year. 

Edison's Dock Ft Myers

 

Edison and Ford Winter Estates

At last, I made it to the Thomas Edison & Heny Ford Winter Estates.  It's been many years since my last visit to the Ft Myers, FL. At the time, the Estates were closed.... or possibly we were short on time. Whatever the reason, I have longed to visit this venue ever since. 

Edison and Ford Winter Estates

A combination of homes, gardens, museum and laboratory makes for a wonderful outing. True, it was stinking hot and humid both days I was there, but there are places to cool off. Take for example that extra-wide, wrap-around porch that Edison had built. I sat on a bench, with nothing but the slight breeze in the air, and cooled down.  

Or I took a stroll in botanical research garden where the plants protected me from the heat. And if it really gets bad, one can pop into the air-conditioned gift shop and museum. 

I always love plants and gardens, but the high point for me was Edison's Laboratory. Over the years, I have seen photos of this lab. And now here it was, right before my eyes, looking exactly like the photos I had seen when Edison worked there. Nothing has been changed or moved. I stood and stared and breathed in the essence of this remarkable man. 

If I lived here, I would defiantly get the yearly pass. 

I was saddened to hear that the story of the 100-year-old lightbulb that is still in use in the lab is nothing more than urban legend. Darn. It was a good tale. Maybe I'll just keep telling it.

Leoma Lovegrove

Several years ago, and I have no idea when or where, I heard about the artist Leoma Lovegrove. Once you see a picture of the lady or, for that matter, hear her name, you don't forget. Although apparently I did until I began looking for places to visit in Florida. 

My first reaction had been, Oh, I remember reading about her.  My second thought was, Goodness, she paints in a similar style to Lucia of Tortuga Straits. 

In case you are wondering about Lucia and Tortuga Straits, both will be a bit harder to find than Leoma.  Although the town and the artist are very real to me, they can only be found in my novel, Tortuga Straits and the Parrot Hotel. Which, happily, will be available for free download on Amazon, August 6 - 10.

Tortuga Straits on Amazon

Tortuga Straits is part of the Tropical Seaside Village Series. The other book in the series is The Many Wonders of Costa Contente.  I will be available for free from August 7 -11.

Costa Contente on Amazon

Leoma's Website: Leoma Lovegrove    

The photos below are from the magical garden behind her shop. Beatles music played on a loop, butterflies flitting through the tropical plants, and an art trailer that would win any show in any town. The flower child still within me greatly appreciated this marvel.

Florida Bound

 I am so tired of waking up to cold, grey skies where I can't even see across the street. I even had to turn to heater on the other morning. But this will soon be solved when I jet off to the Free State of Florida and leave the People's Republic of California behind.  (at least for a bit.)

It will be none too soon. Mask mandates are back in many places, not that anyone in my town ever took them off. All the little kids in summer programs run around in masks. All the older folk's triple mask. Give me a state where I can see people's smiles! A state where everyone is happy! As well as all the critters that I adore.

Kooky Kalifornia Kasting Ballots

The California primary election is set for Tuesday, June 7. Ballots and the State’s Voter Information Guide are already in homes. There is plenty of time for citizens to research and make their decisions before going to ballot box. But many, if they vote at all, will not bother to do so. That ballot that came in the mail this week can simply be filled out and sent back the same day it arrived. Drop boxes begin service on May 16. In-person voting begins at various locations May 28.

Why people cannot vote on election day, with paper ballots, is beyond me. It used to be that anyone could request a mail-in ballot simply because they were too darn lazy to get their tails to a polling place. Now, everyone in the entire state gets one. And why is it necessary to vote anytime between May 5, and election day, June 7? Should one drop off that ballot in the mailbox at midnight on June 7, fear not. Your vote will be counted even if it arrives on June 14.

I know people who voted early in 2020 with mail-in ballots. This was not because they happened to be out of town on election day. Or too ill to drive to the polling place. They simply did not want to be bothered doing what they had done the majority of their life, going to the polling location on election Tuesday. Later, when they “suddenly” realized Biden had dementia and maybe was compromised by his crack-head son, they were upset that they had not waited until election day to cast their ballot.  (How any of them -- all eligible to vote for at least 50 years, did not know Biden was a demented sleazebag, is for them to explain.) 

We can thank Governor Newsome for the crazier-than-the-Crazy-Cali norm for all things involving voting. California is still in a State of Emergency. The man still has emergency powers that were enacted in March 2020.  

The argument against all these excessive voting days is simple: it makes the election ripe for voter fraud, just as it was in 2020 and most other years.   Nov 2020 post

A brief glance at the voting options available for the citizens, (and possibly non-citizens), of California should alarm all civic minded people. These radical changes were ushered in thanks to the Voter’s Choice Act, which was a response to Covid. Although the ballot harvesting thing, quite legal here, has been around quite a bit longer.

These are the voting provisions currently in effect for the California, June 7 Primary Election.

·       Every registered voter will receive a Vote by Mail ballot in the mail.   State Voter Info

This should set off alarm bells. California voter rolls have not been cleaned up in decades. FIX CA is currently working to rectify the situation, but they are a long way from completing the task. Considering the mass exodus from the State over the past few years, it is easy to assume tens of thousands of invalid ballots may have gone out.

In addition, California enacted the “Voter Moter” plan. Get a driver’s license, and you’re automatically registered to vote. Said person does not even have to be a citizen to get one in the Golden State. In fact, you can be an illegal alien and the state will happily give you a license. 

When you apply for a driver’s license, it registers that person to vote. I still cannot find definitive proof that illegals are not automatically entered into the roll book.

·       In-Person Voting

In the not-so-distant past, there was only one day on which you could vote. Generally, a Tuesday in June or in November. And you went to your neighborhood polling place. Often it was someone’s garage, or a library, a school, or another public venue. Now we have Vote Centers open more than a week before June 7. You can even register to vote on the same day you vote.

·       24-Hour Drop Box, as well as Vote Centers where ballots can be dropped off, available from May 28 – June 7.

·       Advocate on the Go.  This is the really creepy, scary, scam-sounding way to vote.  A “team” will be sent out to assist voters with receiving, marking, and returning the ballot. Allegedly set up to help the hospitalized, voters with disabilities, or those confined to home.

 As I have done since I was 18, I will trudge down to a polling place on June 7. I still have no idea where that might be. We no longer have neighborhood polling stations. I just checked on the county voting site and the information is not yet up. It appears they are not encouraging same-day voting.

I plan to vote for Michael Shellenberger.  He would be fantastic for the State. Although I have lost any hope that California can ever recover from the hellhole it has become – at least in my lifetime, Mr. Shellenberger sees a way to do it. Whatever the outcome, I already know the election will be called before my ballot has reached the county office. That’s just Crazy Cali for you.

 

 

 

Amulio's Song

Generally, I am not a fan of the Musical Interlude – that two-minute dialogue-free scene thrown into the middle of a TV episode. Nine times out of ten I will mute the sound or, if possible, fast forward. This did not happen when El Peso De Mi Tristeza rang out on episode 4 of The Paradise .

Before I even heard the entirety of the first two measures I was transfixed. Immediately, my shoulders and head began to sway along with the enchanting melody. At that moment I wasn’t even aware that I had tuned out what was occurring on the screen and been transported to another plane. The perfect combination of melody and voice had overtaken my unconscious. That I did not understand every word of Spanish was of no importance.

Later, I tried to figure out where I had gone during that melodic few minutes. It wasn’t exactly back to Brazil, but that was the overriding feeling. Bits of tropical landscape – not clear or defined – swirled in my mind. I was in a place I had once known with feelings I had once felt. An overriding sensory immersion into happiness. Wherever the song had taken me, I needed to find the composer and singer.  

It did not take long to find a recording of the song, and a bit longer to find Amulio José Espinoza, the lyricist and singer. I then continued to search for the lyrics, to no avail. Although my Spanish is more than passible, listening to a song – which is basically a poem – is not that straight forward. Finally I found a contact email and sent off my request for the lyrics. Amulio kindly responded.

Amulio Instagram

El Peso de mi Tristeza

 

El peso de me tristeza,

Recibido al nacer

En el fondo quieto

Del agua turbia

Sueña el eco

Lentamente

Me hundo

contigo

 

El juego de tu mirada 

Me incita a beber

Del fuego creciente 

que nada juzga

Fuera del cuento

Dulcemente

Me sumo

herido

 

El beso de tu recuerdo

Me hace saber

si es cierto

que cerca estoy del cielo

Lejos del suelo

Lentamente

Me hundo

Tristemente 

Me uno

Vencido

 

Music: Antti Lehtinen

Lyrics: Amulio Jose Espinosa / Marja Pyykkö

 

It made perfect sense that Amulio is from Mexico, although now resides in Finland.

I don’t know anything about the composer, Antti Lehiten, but remain astonished that someone from Finland wrote a melody that came straight from the tropics of Latin America.

It was quite surprising that this beautiful song is part of a Finnish TV series that takes place in both Finland and Spain. Although it really shouldn’t be. Afterall, American music is often used in foreign series and films. And it is a great show. In the US it is available on ACORN TV .

Many thanks to Amulio and Antti for giving me a few moments of pure joy.