If
you can imagine a fairy tale castle, writ small and transposed from
the Bavarian alps to the palmetto strewn plains of South Dade—that's
what the T's home seemed like to me. It was, actually, only a
4-bedroom ranch with a couple of bathrooms set and secluded in a palm
treed driveway and landscaped with other tropical plants and
shrubbery. And—the cherry on the sundae—a private pool right off
the living room. It was as though I had done my time in purgatory and
gone, at last, to heaven. It was Florida living, close to the ground
(no cellar) and open to the sky. People lived half in half out of
doors the climate was so genial. Well, it wasn't completely “open
to the sky”, Florida has humongous mosquitoes, the pool was
screened. (Just so you don't think I had gone completely batty.)
Those
very friendly people, the T family, that we had met at a roadside
drive-in in the Keys, turned out to be the real McCoy. They had been
sincere when they gave us their address and phone number and invited
us to visit their home in Kendall. On a weekend pass, not too long
after we had met Mom and the four kids, we hopped in my '55 Ford and
headed up to Miami. We thought better of just appearing on their
doorstep in case they had had a change of heart. Mr. T had not been
at the drive-in and we thought that maybe he, having attractive young
daughters of a certain age, might not be so enthralled with the idea
of having three sailors in his home—given the image we believed
many people had of sailors. When we got to Kendall and before driving
up to their address we called them from a phone booth along the
highway.
There
had been no need to worry, they sounded delighted to hear from us and
that we were calling from a nearby phone booth. Of course, we didn't
say that we had come especially to see them, but that we had a
weekend pass and decided to come to Miami and check out the beaches
and since we were already in the area thought we'd drop in and say
hello, blah, blah, blah.... That gave them the opportunity to back
out of the invitation and us to save face. But, no, they insisted
that we come to their house. We did so, as I said before, “with
bells on.”
The
house sat on a couple acres of land, as we soon discovered, and it was
like nothing any of us had experienced before being all northerners.
Our houses up north were closed in with cellars and central heating
or cast-iron stoves. But this was tropical living. We were ushered
into the house and immediately saw that you could just step out of
the living room into the screened in swimming pool—don't forget the
mosquitoes. The whole living room wall was made of sliding doors that
could be pulled aside to leave the whole side of the house open to
the pool. It gave the feeling of living out of doors, yet sheltered
from the elements—the ultimate evolution of the cave.
Mr. T
was at home this time and he turned out to be a terrific guy and
host. He was an airline pilot with Pan American Grace Airways. His
regular runs were between Lima, Peru and Miami International Airport.
Drinks were mixed and poured and we all relaxed and got acquainted.
Finally, someone asked if we had brought our swimming trunks and
would we like to use the pool. We had and we would like very much
indeed, thank you so much for asking. (I suppose they couldn't have
missed the fact that we kept glancing at the pool and oohing and
aahing about how great it was to have a pool right outside your
living room.) There was a cabana on one end of the pool and we were
invited to change into our swimming trunks...and would we like to
stay for dinner?
“Oh,
no, no, we couldn't possibly put to you to so much trouble, thanks
anyway. And we do have to get back to Key West.”
“Right away?”
“Well,
er, no, not right away, necessarily, but.....”
“That
settles it, you're staying for dinner.”
“Well,
if you insist, we'd love to.”
“Are
you hungry?”
“Are
you kidding, we're starving!”
“Good!
We'll do a barbeque. Have another drink, jump in the pool....
To be
continued...
2 comments:
I can see that meeting these nice generous of spirit, people, was a salve…
-R
chicken soup for the soul ;-)
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