Our Summer So Far, 2023

May 18           -   We return to Massachusetts from Florida

June 2-3           - We attend husband Charley's college reunion 

June 4               - We attend granddaughter's graduation from high school

June 18            - We return rested and energized from a vacation to our favorite 

                           spot off the coast of Italy.

June 25             - Charley's brother passes away after a lengthy illness.

June 29-30        - Services for Charley's brother

July 1               -  I begin shopping for our July 4th cookout. The number attending

                            exploded from the usual twelve to forty-something, including 

                            those who said, "We'll just stop by for a drink." The kitchen

                            island transforms into a buffet table, and I rummage the

                            Christmas Tree Shop (which declared bankruptcy) for 

                            red-white-blue melamine plates. I find them for $1.00 each.

                            I hit BJ's for liquor, quantities of non-alcoholic drinks, and 

                            perishables. I begin cooking the freezables - cranberry/orange 

                            breads, strawberry/ rhubarb and apple pies, tomato tarts 

                            (tomatoes drained but tarts end up mushy. Will stick to the quiche

                            recipes in the future.)

July 2              -  The weather forecast turns ugly for July 4th, with thunderstorms 

                             predicted at 4:00 pm for the start of the party. We decide to 

                             forget the badminton and Corn Hole games and set up inside, 

                            where the a.c. can handle the humidity. Charley's sister Kathy 

                            and her husband Norm drop off three small tables and chairs 

                             and help remove our furniture. Frank, who watches our house

                             while we're in Florida, and his partner Tony drop off an 8' table, 

                             coolers, and more folding chairs. Our living room accommo-

                             dates the large table and our dining room transforms into a cafe, 

                             with the three small tables, coolers, and a table for drinks. 

                             We set up our drop-leaf and game tables in the family room and

                              cover all with July 4th tablecloths and centerpieces supplied 

                              by a friend who's attending.

July 3                -  I begin making devilled eggs, baked beans, salads, dips, carrot 

                             cake. All else (except the meats) donated by invitees. I go to 

                             bed reviewing mental lists. Not asleep at 11:00 p.m. and go to the

                             bathroom. 

                             Toilet won't flush!  No water from the faucets!

                             I wake Charley who says, "It couldn't be the well with all the rain

                             we've had. Will call Frank early tomorrow. Don't flush the toilet!"

July 4                -  Frank appears by 8:00 a.m. with two appetizers and says he's

                             already called the well compnay who will install a new pump

                             (ours dead after almost 40 years) on the morning of the 5th.

                             Charley suggests we call all invited guests to cancel.

                             "Not neceessary!" Frank says. "Let's ask your neighbor 

                              across the street (invited to the party) if we can hook a hose up

                              to their well (no town water at this end of town). Charley and

                              Frank receive permission from our neighbors. Frank heads to 

                              Home Depot (open on the 4th) for a 400' hose, which he and 

                              Tony attach between the two houses. We have clear, plentiful

                              water by noon!!

                              Thunder and lightning start at 4:00 as guests are pouring in

                              through the garage and front hall. Son Todd, Charley, and Norm

                              cook dozens of hamburgers on the outdoor grill under 

                              umbrellas. I cook hot dogs on the cooktop grill in the kitchen.

                              Everyone gets to know each other really well without a 

                              clue we'd run out of water! The drinks are flowing.

July 5                 -  By noon we have a new pump in the well, the kitchen is clean, 

                              and donated items have been picked up. 

                              Charley and I head for bed.

A Developer's Dream: Briny Breezes, Florida

"Briny Breezes" is a tiny seaside village close to where we live in Florida. It sits on 43 coveted acres along Route A1A in Palm Beach County, with 600 feet of Atlantic oceanfront and 1,100 feet of Intracoastal Waterway. The village consists of 488 uniformly white mobile homes and carports, some with boat slips, as well as fourteen championship shuffleboard courts, an auditorium, hair salon, post office, recreation center, and swimming pool. The average age of residents is 73.7 years. Film producers have used the setting in such films as, "Folks" (1992), "In Her Shoes" (2005), and "Comedian" (2016).

The place was created "by a strawberry farmer named Ward Miller in the 1930's, who rented individual tracts to trailer-towing travelers for three bucks a week. In 1958 Miller offered his renters an opportunity to own their narrow tracts for $2,000 ($2,500 near the waterfront)." (Quote from Fred Grimm, "Briny Breezes Offered Fantasy About Selling Out to Trump Town," Sun Sentinel, January 5, 2020, pg. 29A).

The village became a town in 1958, as well as a corporation. Property owners became the shareholders. It was difficult for developers to work a deal for the acreage, with so many shareholders expressing opinions and casting votes...

Till 2007, that is. In January of that year the residents voted to sell the town to developers for $510,000,000. Figure it out - each resident would pocket over $1,000,000.

"High season" in Briny Breezes

In April, 2007, Ocean Land Investments of Boca Raton, Florida, optioned for the entire town at that price tag. It proposed the creation of a 349-room luxury hotel and marina, as well as twenty-story condos, all of which would take ten years to construct.

With single-lane (in both directions) drawbridges to the barrier island, this plan would create gridlock. In addition, the infrastructure for A1A's traffic, its sewage, and its water resources would be strained to the breaking point. Police, fire, and ambulance response, not to mention evacuation during storms, would be incomprehensible. Coral reefs offshore would be choked with sewage and beaches would be overdeveloped, while nesting grounds for sea turtles would be destroyed.

Briny's recreation center on Atlantic Ocean

Path to the beach

In May, '07, the newly-formed  Florida Coalition for Preservation held meetings with surrounding neighborhoods, local, state, and national groups, as well as mayors. As a result, the Florida Department of Community Affairs received a record number of community responses and reports from various governmental agencies. The developer's plan was rejected by state and regional authorities and in July of that year, the deal was cancelled by the developer over a dispute regarding a proposed extension by the Briny Board of Directors of the due diligence period. The developer never put up his $5 million guarantee, according to Fred Grimm ("Briny Breezers Offered Fantasy About Selling Out to Trump Town," Sun Sentinel, January 5, 2020, pg. 29A),

Fast forward to December, 2019, when according to the Briny Bugle newsletter, resident and real estate broker James Arena summoned the town population to the auditorium to hear about a possible BILLION-dollar deal to buy out the trailer lots, clearing the way for an oceanfront PRESIDENTIAL LIBRARY FOR DONALD TRUMP. Of course, there'd also be a hotel.

Briny Breezes pool

Hobby center

Arena assured the residents the proposal had been run past rapper Vanilla Ice, a semi-famous Palm Beach County resident and phantom friend of Donald Trump, Jr. The day after the proposed windfall was touted, Vanilla Ice himself tweeted, "I don't know Donald Trump, Jr. Don't understand why they said that? But if they want me to build a library in Palm Beach on the ocean, I'm in."

Shuffleboard at Briny Breezes

Resident and broker Arena proposed the name of the town be changed to "Trump Town" for the presidential library that would house - not books - but the President's collection of 12,000 tweets! According to Timothy O'Brien, author of Trump Nation: The Art of Being the Donald, "He doesn't read at all. I'm not overstating things here." This presidential trait, or lack thereof, was also noted by Michael Wolfe, after his months-long access to the White House, in Fire and Fury: Inside the Trump White House. "He didn't read. He didn't really even skim."

Wheeler-dealers blow smoke. Politicians blow smoke. But those of us living on the barrier island like our air clean and pure.

Florida Re-entry

Like the birds, Charley and I "migrate" twice a year. When the weather turns cold and raw in Massachusetts, we head to Florida. We do the reverse in May when the heat and humidity become suffocating in Florida.

After driving 1500 miles south this October, we unpacked the car,
raised the electric storm shutters, put sheets on our bed, and tumbled to sleep within minutes. Around 1 a.m. I got up to use the bathroom, rousing myself from dreams of lying on the beach, and shuffled with one open eye toward the nightlight. My other eye flew open when I heard a loud hissing noise. "Please, God, not a snake!" was my first thought. I turned on a light and not seeing anything coiled near my feet, headed toward the kitchen.

I didn't get to the kitchen. Squish, squish, squish. My feet hit water across the stone floor. From under the bar a fountain was spurting liquid sunshine down the hall. "Charley! Get up!" I yelled, folding to my knees. A split water hose made a direct hit and doused my face and hair in a second.

"Are you sick?" Charley said, stumbling out of the bedroom.

"Look!" I said, holding my thumb over the split in the hose. "Turn off the faucet under there! I'll get a bucket and towels." I handed him the hose so he could move his thumb into position.

  "The thing is rusted," he yelled, twisting his other arm into the back of the cabinet. "Get some WD40!" A new purple bruise spread across his forearm, as he wedged his football body inside the 2'x4' cabinet, while
water gushed past his thumb.

I ran to grab the WD40, towels, and a bucket, and headed back to my dripping husband who was sitting in water and looked like he'd peed in his pj's. Slowly, slowly, the metal knob began turning. Slowly, slowly, the water began to drip and then stopped. We heard  furniture scraping in the condo below us. "I hope this didn't seep into their apartment!" I said. That was when our phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Mrs. Carey, this is the security guard. Mrs. Rickover in the apartment below you reported water coming through her light fixtures in the ceiling."

"Yes, we've had a hose split in the bar area, but we've turned off the water."

"I'll be right there."

The damage was minimal for both of us, thankfully, but our neighbors called ServPro, to be sure. A plumber came for us the next day and the dripping from the Rickovers' light fixtures stopped without mildew. Their ceiling was intact and the light fixtures functioned. We both ran fans that week, called our insurance companies, and sent carpets out for cleaning. Good thing I'd had to make a pit stop (though I didn't make it back there for quite a while)!

But that was only the beginning...

During the course of the next week we discovered an ice block in the refrigerator ice maker; the internet nonfunctional; the cable out of commission for two televisions; the printer full of a blob of black ink (needed a new printer); sugar ants in the kitchen; and to top it off...I developed an eye infection!

The following week a cavity turned into a root canal.

At least we had sunshine and temperatures in the eighties!

Bad Timing

Why is it that when you're leaving for a long trip the car won't start?  Or you're waiting for house guests to arrive and a pipe bursts?  Or you're expecting ten for a holiday dinner and the oven konks out?


Several years ago we'd packed our SUV to begin the drive from Massachusetts to Florida.  STUFF for eight months was wedged in like a puzzle.  Golf clubs and tennis rackets slid behind the front seats.  Boxes of paperwork, books, and computer equipment lay on the flattened trunk where the back seats had been. Suitcases spread toward the rear door.  Coats and jackets topped the mound, while shoe bags and boots plugged the holes.  We set the alarm on the house and adjusted our front seats.  Charley turned the key in the ignition.

NOTHING!  Over and over - not even a whine.  Battery dead overnight.

We called the dealer, who promised a tow truck, which arrived an hour later, which had no luck charging the battery, which then needed a tow.  Only one problem:  the BMW couldn't be towed in "Park," and without the ignition on, the gears wouldn't shift to "Neutral."  Oh yes, one other problem:  the over-ride access to the gear shift was under the cup console between the front seats and needed a wrench.  Guess where the BMW geniuses had stored the wrench?  In the trunk.  Guess what else was in the trunk?

We unloaded the car, piled everything in the garage, and watched as our BMW inched its way up the tow truck in "Neutral."  When the car arrived two days later, we made sure it started before we packed it up again, and we never turned it off till we hit the first rest stop 200 miles away.

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

One son and daughter-in-law were hosting fourteen of us for Christmas Eve several years ago. On the way home from the airport after picking us up on Dec. 23rd, our son received a call from home.

"What's up?" he said.

"We have a flood."

"What?  Where?"

"A pipe was leaking under the kitchen sink and water began pouring into the basement.  I called Serve-Pro and they'll be here soon."

"Unbelievable!  Did you shut off the main water line?"

"Yes. I've got buckets in the basement but there's a big hole in the ceiling down there."

"We're about forty-five minutes away.  Call me when they get there."

Serve-Pro came and cleaned up.  They left behind a blower/dryer in the middle of the kitchen, a wet vac in the basement, and a new kitchen pipe for the holiday.

"You really shouldn't use this sink after Christmas," the man said before he left. "There's mold under the cabinets and it's unhealthy.  All the cabinets will have to be torn out."

"That means a new kitchen, I guess," my daughter-in-law said.  "We weren't planning on it this soon."

"Well, don't worry about Christmas Eve," I said, giving her a big hug.  "We don't care what we eat, as long as we're together.  We can always order pizza! Why not sit down and dad and I will put the children to bed?"

The next day I set the dining room table while our daughter-in-law emptied the lower cabinets.  That evening fourteen of us enjoyed a beef tenderloin roast with Lyonnaise potatoes, fresh green beans, spaghetti squash, and Tiramisu that had been stashed in the refrigerator.  We danced around the blower that continued to rattle in the middle of the kitchen, grateful we didn't have to wash dishes in the bathtub upstairs.

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

A friend of ours was an avid tennis player and agreed to substitute for another team. During the third set in a three-hour match, she injured her Achilles Tendon.  The surgeon ordered a "boot."

"You'd better take it easy for a while, till we can confirm whether it's torn," he said.

"What about Christmas dinner?" her husband said.  "We can always go out."

"No, eight other people are planning to come, and I've already prepared some things ahead.  We'll carry on."

Deidre stood like a stork on one leg making the canapes and setting the table the day before. She hopped from sink to refrigerator preparing two beef Wellingtons and four vegetables on Christmas morning, then went to get dressed.

At 3:30 p.m. she turned on the oven. The oven refused to oblige. "Honey, we have no oven!"

"Try resetting it.  Maybe you didn't hit the proper sequence.  I'll check the breaker."

Deidre tried again, following instructions in the manual. Still nothing.

"OK, now what??  They'll be here at 5:00."

"Call Kim.  Maybe we can use her oven, since she's coming anyway and lives around the corner."

At 5:00 the other eight guests arrived.  Mark served them a drink and Deidre's famous canapes, heated in the microwave.  At 6:00 Deidre announced, "I'm so sorry, but I'm afraid we have no oven!  If you'll excuse us, Kim and I are going to drive to her house to cook your dinner.  Her ovens have been pre-heating."

Fifty minutes later, the ladies removed the four vegetables and two beef Wellingtons from Kim's ovens and nestled them in towels and blankets in the trunk so they wouldn't wobble.  Kim slammed the trunk and got behind the wheel.

She turned the key in the ignition...NOTHING.

"Call Mark!  He can come get the dinner."

The ladies went around to the trunk to open it for Mark's arrival.  STUCK!

"Call Mark back and have him bring my husband with his keys," Kim said.

Together the foursome jimmied the trunk open and transferred everything to Mark's car. Dinner was served at 7:00.

Three nights later Deidre hosted a birthday party for Mark.  Sixty people enjoyed her hot canapes, heated in another neighbor's oven.