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Pensacola Beach Report

The best update from Pensacola Beach Blog.

Summer Morning

He comes to me, underwear on backwards as usual, no shirt.  It is our typical Florida morning: The sound of the fan running in the kitchen already.  It's so hot outside, we keep the house cooler with fans and not just the AC set so low.  He's all tan and long legs.  He shoves the empty cup in my face, indicating he wants more water so he can go out in the backyard and spit through the space in his teeth in long arcs across the patio.  He is apparently preparing for the Olympics.  I am going to have to get my measuring tape out and see just how far that stream of water travels. I go out to get the mail shielding my eyes from the blinding brightness of the sun.  A biplane drones lazily overhead as I quickstep in my bare feet over the hot pavement to the mailbox.  Suddenly, a very large dragonfly hovers right in front of my nose.  Good morning!  On the way back, I turn on the sprinkler to give my wilting garden a drink.  Back in the AC under the fan I peel cold peaches into a bowl.

Our day begins.

Still Life by Candice Ronesi actually called "Summer Morning"

We weep

Pain

This is an excerpt from Kahlil Gibran's The Prophet.  I was playing Library Angel. You know when you stand in front of your books and ask a question and then just randomly open a book? Oh, I thought everybody did that.  Anyway, I had forgotten what a wonderful book this is. I read it when I was 13 or 14 years old. It is worn out and has pencil markings and underlines.  I had what I consider to be a spiritual awakening around that time, and it was one born from pain.

And a woman spoke, saying, Tell us of Pain.

And he said:

Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding.

Even as the stone of the fruit must break, that its heart may stand in the sun, so must you know pain.

And could you keep your heart in wonder at the daily miracles of your life, your pain would not seem less wondrous than your joy;

And you would accept the seasons of your heart, even as you have always accepted the seasons that pass over your fields.

And you would watch with serenity through the winters of your grief.

Much of your pain is self-chosen.

It is the bitter potion by which the physician within you heals your sick self.

Therefore trust the physician, and drink his remedy in silence and tranquility:

For his hand, though heavy and hard, is guided by the tender hand of the Unseen.

And the cup he brings, though it burn your lips, has been fashioned of the clay which the Potter has moistened with His own sacred tears.

Summer Night

Had I not washed the camera in our washing machine, I would have taken some incredible pictures tonight.  Although, probably, they would not have conveyed half the beauty and awe that I experienced tonight.

Liberty is a nature child.  Even in this heat, he loves to be outside.  He wanted me to go swing with him around 8 P.M.  It was still pretty light outside, but I just could not bear any more humidity nor did I feel like getting bit up by mosquitoes and other assortments of flying teeth.

Anyway, I was sitting in my rocking chair and looking through a window in the living room out to our backyard where Lib was happily sitting in his swing.  Then it hit me.

He was looking up.  He was looking at the changing light, the clouds, the sunset burning towards twilight.  He had a look of wonder on his face.  It was so beautiful, his face full of light.  And happy, not pestering me to come swing him.  Just hanging.  The way I used to with my friends on summer nights in Tennessee, lazily lying in the grass, awaiting the entrance of fireflies.  He stayed out there for a little while, sometimes leaning back in the swing, toes up, still looking at the sky, his eyes following arcs of chattering birds. 

He never used to do this.  He would be focused straight ahead, unaware of much going on around him, or at least that was my perception.

I watched the colors change and a brown gray mist fill my living room  as the sinking sun sputtered  its dying light.

Then I went outside and what I saw took my breath away.

There was a bright half moon and several diamond stars against a lavender and dark blue sky with cotton candy clouds backlit by the sunset.  Chimney swifts darted about like boomerangs, looking for a place to bed down for the night.  The katydids were in full symphony with the cicadas, and as Lib waved to me, the bullfrog chorus began.

I was enchanted.

My little boy.  He seems to have fairy dust all about him.

Courthouse News Service

Courthouse News Service

Summertime

Liberty is back in camp as of 8:15 this morning. The first week is always a getting to know you kind of thing, but he was very happy to have some other kids around and a classroom full of new toys. I was encouraged to see balloons, a castle, tents, tons of toys my son loves and a giant playground right out the backdoor.

I came home and dwelt over a cup of coffee. You know what I mean? In the silence, elbows on table, nose in cup, staring out at my backyard.

Yesterday I was watching the end of This Is It - the Michael Jackson movie - on HBO. Lib was playing in the living room. He usually covers his ears lately when he hears music. He heard the deep bass begin for the song "Beat It." His little shoulders started to pump up and down. He stood up and really started going to town, right on beat, those little shoulders pumping harder. It was adorable. The kid was dancing. He has rhythm. He made me turn it up and had me get up and start dancing with him. It's these spontaneous things that give me so much hope.

I love his Spirit.

The time in between school is tough for both me and Lib, though. He needs more structure and it's just hard to get anything done at home, let alone work. We have been living in the pool over at my dad's condos and I have chlorinated hair to prove it!  I look like an aging Gidget.  I am very appreciative of the pool and our little community that has developed over the years. It's so nice to see the "regulars" come back to swim and see how the kids have grown. We discuss everything from weather to politics to recipes. Lately though, we talk about the beach. Most of where we live has been roped off to us in a sense.

Without droning on about the tragedy occurring in the Gulf to our precious wildlife and eventually to the inhabitants I fear, I am going to publish some updates from time to time, especially local ones because really, people need to know what is happening. I will say that some of the most accurate reporting is being done on the ABC nightly news or Good Morning America when they send good old Sam down. I was impressed that he went diving with Philip Cousteau around here so he could report what he saw with his own eyes. That was several weeks ago.

Locally, we are getting the biggest snow job because people want to stay in business at the beach. So, until someone comes out of the ocean covered in tar like the pelicans you see on the tube, the beach is open for business. I mean, if there is a spot that is clear for that moment, they are saying come on down our beaches are open! It's very disorienting and tempting. We want to go so badly. But, there is not one scientist who can tell us that it is safe. And, with Liberty, with all we have been doing to optimize his immune system, why would I chance it now?

It reminds me of the movie Jaws when the town of Amity refused to close the beach!

You can smell petroleum. It burns your eyes and people get headaches. I sent an email to our local TV station just to ask if they have heard anything about health effects. I got a very curt reply, from the weatherman no less, telling me that if I have a headache I should see a doctor and that they certainly were not hiding anything there. I never accused them of such.  So, now I think they ARE hiding something!!  I was simply seeking information, maybe some reassurance or something civil. That email spoke volumes to me. And boy have they been coached. They remind me of used car salesmen the way they advertise the unblemished patch of sand on our coast.

Here is an eye-opening (if not mouth-gaping) article worth reading that was published by an Anchorage newspaper.

Desiderata

Go placidly amid the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as possible without surrender be on good terms with all persons.

Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even the dull and ignorant; they too have their story.

Avoid loud and aggressive persons, they are vexations to the spirit.

If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain and bitter;
for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.

Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.

Keep interested in your career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.

Exercise caution in your business affairs; for the world is full of trickery.
But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals; and everywhere life is full of heroism.

Be yourself.

Especially, do not feign affection.

Neither be critical about love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it is as perennial as the grass.

Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with imaginings.

Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness. Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself.

You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here.

And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.

Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be, and whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul.

With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be careful. Strive to be happy.©

Max Ehrmann 1927

"If seven maids with seven mops
Swept it for half a year.
Do you suppose," the Walrus said,
"That they could get it clear?"
"I doubt it," said the Carpenter,
And shed a bitter tear. - excerpted from The Walrus and the Carpenter, Lewis Carroll

This phrase has been repeating in my mind a lot as the oil along with the frustrated and angry locals spew. Watching white-suited workers try and pick up an assortment of oily, gunky stuff on the beach while millions of gallons still leak, well, it almost seems like futile effort. This thing is too big to get your mind around let alone to predict what will happen.

I have been running for cover, I won't lie. As much as I adore Sam Champion, I am sick of seeing him on our beach. A lot of people here are disoriented about our now uncertain future. I met a woman in the pool today who works for the Better Business Bureau. She said that there are nothing but cancellations on the beach. People are angry because they cannot get a refund on their deposits which are in the thousands of dollars. They apparently signed a contract (in fine print no doubt) that says their money may not be refunded unless the government closes the beach. And that is not about to happen here. That beach is staying open until the last toxic minute. People are talking about ghost towns and of a way of life lost forever.

How about that Kevin Costner, though? God love him. He had to go before congress to get someone to listen and lo and behold BP bought 32 of he and his brother's machines and more to come. Costner spent 24 million dollars of his own money to build these things with his scientist brother. We owe him a huge debt of gratitude.

Liberty has been taking swim lessons every day this week and doing very well. Thank GOD for the pool, our new haven from the "siege" out there as Obama referred to it. Since we cannot do anything about the past and the future is uncertain, we are guided back into taking life one day at a time.

It feels strange to not be able to go to the beach. I tortured myself as I drove to the pool this morning, "What would we be doing if the oil spill had not happened?" We would be heading for the sound side called "Quietwater Beach" early in the morning so we could get to the crystal clear tranquil water unsullied by the crowds, so we could watch the hermit crabs totter around with their hard shells on their backs, to have the little silver fish swim around our ankles, to smell the wonderful aroma of seafood wafting from the boardwalk restaurants and the muted sounds of reggae music, to look over at the stretch of water and sky and sailboat. The puffy white clouds with that little tinge of pink on the bottom, the morning sky like something out of a Maxfield Parrish painting. The look of utter delight on my little son's face.

This is our home. This is why we love it.

Now, it is being destroyed. We are in shock and are mourning. Seeing the oil wash in on Quietwater Beach where Sam was standing just about killed me.

"Now what?" I wrote in my journal this morning. I have no answer yet.

I am past the gung ho stage of trying to do my part to clean it up. Unless you have a Hazmat suit and a gas mask, forget going over there. All I can do is watch the assorted armada move around on the big sea to try and suck up the gunk. And no, I don't think Jimmy Buffet can save us.

Our addiction to fossil fuels is a lot like alcoholism. Until you hit rock bottom, no real change can begin. And, rock bottom always involves hurting a lot of people and losing everything. The good news, I suppose, is that people will turn to alternative sources of energy eventually. New green businesses will spring up. Hopefully, we will look back and see this as the pivotal point in history when we were forced to really begin to embrace alternative and sustainable sources of energy or face ruining our planet.

I will hang onto that hope like a life preserver. Something good MUST come from this now.

Last Day of School and Liberty Report

Liberty's last day of school is today. I am taking him swimming as soon as he gets home after lunchtime. We have had a few leaps forward lately. As always, they come on gradually and are subtle. Words have been popping out spontaneously and he is now doing lots of mimicking and understanding a lot more. I think that the seizures were one of the major complications for Lib. He has been doing beautifully on his medication. He's only been on it since February and has not had one seizure. And, since the time we started the medication, the feedback from his teacher is that he has been making major leaps and bounds since that time.

Last night, my cell phone was going off in my purse. Usually, either Lib hates the sound or ignores it. I said, "Let's get the phone, that could be your Daddy." He got excited and raced to find the phone. He opened it and listened expectantly. He actually tried to talk to his father and blurted out, "Hi!"

This a first!

Constipation is still the bugaboo, but getting better now that I have begun trying him on Liver Life and CytoFlora by BioRay. As I ramp up the dosage, if I see any major improvements I will share that on this site. For now, we are in the early stages. These products have apparently helped a lot of children on the spectrum, and a very nice pokesperson is always available to ask questions - a mom with a child on the spectrum herself. It's kind of exciting. We also have an appointment tomorrow with our neuro doc that has been put off since my sister's ordeal.

And a summerful of swim lessons, camp, and fun at grandad's house.

I am planting okra in my garden today (whoo hoo) and sending prayers to our Mother Earth as I dig my hands in the soil. A very dear friend of mine used to send me to her garden to pull weeds when I became anxious and it was the best therapy. The gulf issues go on and on. I decided I would find a place and activities to raise my energy and not fret, so for now, looks like it's the garden and the pool! Not a bad combo.

Happy Summer.

Can Jimmy Buffet Help?

Jimmy Buffet has bought a hotel on Pensacola Beach, which will be the first ever Margaritaville Hotel. Having grown up in Florida, Buffet's music was the backdrop of my young years, loving his albums, A1A and Living and Dying in 3/4 Time. A lot of people cannot relate to Parrot Heads but believe me, if you have grown up around here like I have, his music is as familiar and comforting as the blood running through your veins. You cannot sit atop the white, sugary sands of Pensacola Beach and look out at that beautiful emerald green and Caribbean blue water and not hum, "Mother, mother Ocean, I have heard you call..."

But, I wondered about the timing of purchasing this property. Either it will really help the economy here, or it was a stupid move on his part. We won't know until it all plays out.

I am talking, of course, about the enormous gulf oil spill. The oil reached our shores a few days ago. Each morning we watch the "Gulf Oil Tracker" on our local morning news. You've probably already seen Sam Champion from Good Morning America here and CNN. In fact, my sister and I went yesterday to the beach to check things out. The beaches are still beautiful. Many people were out, but there were not too many in the water. Our beaches are still open but awaiting the Coast Guard to close them. Small groups (very small, maybe 4 people?) in suits and gloves, BP employees apparently, were picking up debris (which included a dead, oil-soaked pelican). It just seemed strange as all around them people played and business at the beach went on as usual.

We stopped to eat lunch at a picnic table just outside of the Gulf Island National Seashore on Fort Pickens. Lib was just dying to go into the water. He feels the pull of the ocean and he loves it so. I only let him play in the water a little bit. Then, my sister said she smelled petroleum. We left to go to the museum at Fort Pickens and when I was wiping the sand off of Liberty, there was a trace of oil staining his foot! Apparently, the oil is beneath the sand.

I keep telling myself that there are always new beginnings in endings.

Endings are on the minds of all of us who live along this beautiful Gulf coast. Did you know that 40% of the world's seafood comes out of the Gulf? Did you also know there are 4600 oil rigs and platforms in the Gulf? So many people are more concerned about the economy than the wildlife. They don't seem to understand that on top of lost jobs, of a loss of a way of life, indeed an end of an era that is happening right before our eyes, the food chain is being broken. If the plankton die, so does everything else. If the oil kills our coral reefs, the seabed nurseries of so much life, then nothing can survive. Will the Gulf become a dead sea? This is what we mean my catastrophe of worldwide proportions. When the oil first began gushing, no one here was talking this way because it had not shown up yet. Even the local newscasters were very careful (instructed?) to make sure they re-iterated emphatically that our beaches were still open for business. "No oil on our shores!," they boasted. And of course, BP had given businesses in Florida millions to advertise this fact and try to help the beach businesses prevent loss of sales.

I recall in many apocalyptic predictions of the sea turning red. Well, the oil sheen turns the water red. Is this the end of times?

I really do not believe in the end of the world, literally. But, perhaps this event heralds the end of the world as we now know it. And it's high time. I believe we are in the dawn of a new age, Earth II. We have got to acknowledge our relationship with nature and work with Her if we are to survive.

It would be very easy to become depressed and believe me there is a lot of that around here as you might imagine. But my sister and I were discussing this yesterday. I do not want to put my focus on what has already happened - I cannot do anything about that. The best use of my energy then would be to focus on where I can be of help. I want to be part of the solution, not part of the problem. I am not sure where to focus my energy yet, but I am trying to think positively, hoping a path will open up. Since the oil is still gushing, it really is anybody's guess where we will be by August.

Please see my sister Susan's blog for some really great pictures and articles on what is happening here. All we can do is photograph it and let others know what is happening so we do not allow this to ever happen again. If we don't change now, then we are surely lost.

Will people come to Jimmy's place just to see the last of the Great Gulf? Will we be able to breathe the air when we do? If anything, maybe having Jimmy's place can help us forget our troubles for a little while and maybe also to remember what we have and appreciate it and be proactive. You can read what he said here as he walked with Governor Crist on our beach on Saturday. I wish I had not missed it.

In the meantime instead of feeling helpless, I got this visualization from Adam Dreamhealer. I think I will use it. I am setting up an alter on my fireplace mantle. I have my shells around me, my pictures, the treasures this place has brought us.

Please pray for us. Pray for the Gulf. It affects the entire world. Don't become desensitized to what is happening by the television. We do need a miracle right now. Let's all put our hearts and minds there. Please include the great Gulf of Mexico and all of its magnificent creatures and people who live and work here in your daily prayers and meditation. Mind is non local, it has no boundary of skin. What you think and feel does affect the world.