A quiet afternoon on the sandbar. |
I'm not the kind of guy who belly aches
too much about First-World problems. At least I try not to be. My
lawnmower issue of a couple weeks ago could, I guess, be categorized
as a first-world problem. I mean, there are a lot of people out there
who don't have either a yard or the wherewithal to own a mower to cut
it. I guess to a person living in a cardboard box under a bridge, any
problem I might have with my new $400 mower is fairly trivial. I'd
have to agree.
Don't worry, this isn't another
lawnmower post. I just present it as evidence that most problems are
relative. To some third worlder, surviving by chewing the bark off a
stick, would see not being able to find another stick as a huge
issue. Me, not so much. I'm guessing you are right there with me.
On my recent trip to the Keys, I was
with my friends who rent a place in Islamorada for a month every
summer. I can pinpoint within a week the exact month they will be
there by simply going from the weekend after Independence Day and
tracing out the month on my calendar to a total of five weekends.
Easypeasy.
We were anchored on the sandbar about a mile off the beach
of, what used to be the world-famous Holiday Isle, but is now called,
ugh, Postcard Inn. Although there are boats anchored in the waist-deep
water there every day of the week, Saturdays and Sundays will find as
many as 200 smaller craft crammed into this rather tight area, each
with its contingent of beer-swilling passengers and blaring music.
The water around these boats is filled with people hanging onto
anything that floats like survivors of a torpedoed trawler.
It is a social gathering of the haves.
The degree of having is usually measured by the size of your craft
(Insert your “size” joke here.) with the larger boats typically
indicating those having more. From my perspective, if you have a boat
and are on the sandbar in Islamorada, you certainly have more than I.
But you might be amazed at the size of some of the boats, the age of
those owning them and their stories.
On my first trip to the sandbar this year we met
a 50ish couple with a boat in the 27-ft range. They were from Pompano
Beach, Fla. They were spending the summer in the Keys. The boat they
brought to the sandbar was their little boat. They also have a 57-ft
boat that was docked a couple of miles away on which they were
staying. Serious haves, right? The Kennedys might disagree.
On my last trip out to the sandbar, we
met a family with a boat of similar size. The parents were in their
late 40s with a 16-year-old daughter and a 13-yr-old son. They had
two small dogs with them, one of which was a puppy with its leg in a
cast. They were friendly, chatty people with whom we visited as we
floated around on noodles with our beers. The dogs spent the
afternoon on a huge float the size of a living-room sofa. Even the
pets of a lot of these people are “haves.”
Driving home the whole
first-world-problem thing: The wife related their latest story of
woe. Seems they live full time in Miami, but have owned a weekend house in
the Keys for more than 10 years. They are currently in the process of
building a pool behind their Keys house. She regaled us with the
misery of having the back of the house all torn up as this
pool-building process drags on.
The really horrific part of the story
is that while the pool excavation was going on two weeks ago, the
pool builders cut an electric line running from the house to the
dock. At the time, the pool contractor promised to get an electrician
on site the following week to fix the problem. They returned this
weekend only to discover electric to the dock hadn't been restored.
The humanity!
Faced with not being able to lower the
davits cradling their boat out of the water, they considered packing
up and heading back to Miami. But, no, where there's a will and a
wallet stuffed with 100-dollar bills, there's a way. Their solution
was to have a generator delivered to the house. Using the generator,
they lowered their boat, (I'm not making this up) named Positive
Electricity, into the water, saving the weekend. Thank, God!
No question, having is a matter of
perspective. And, no matter how much you have, you have problems.
Last night we broke the cork off trying to open a bottle of wine to
drink while watching the sunset from our dock. Panic was about to set in when I
finally found a larger, better cork screw in the silverware drawer. Opening the bottle, I saved the evening.
Now that was a close call.
Well said Russ.
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