Florida – Part One
Being in possession of unreasonably low expectations of virtually every forthcoming social event once again paid dividends last week in the form of an unexpectedly joyful expedition to that far-flung sub-tropical corner of the country known as Florida. In this particular instance Rachel had played her fair part in poisoning my mind against the territory, a slow-drip of nine years duration containing a cocktail antifloridian memes designed mostly to avoid all mention of it as a potential holiday destination: sprawling, centreless near-necropoli of retired New Yorkers interspersed with alligator-laden faux-canals, golf-courses and endless strips of chain stores and highways populated by speeding myopic centegenerians and good old boys, their Chevrolet trucks plastered with "guns for Jesus" bumper-stickers.
Of course, this turned out to be an over-simplification.
The clan had gathered in West Palm Beach in celebration of Rachel's grandfather's ninetieth birthday, a city pretty much as far from Portland as it's possible to be whilst remaining in the same country; Ethan was however an angel on both flights, sleeping and playing and generally making the best of it. Friday night took us to Elyse and Steve's condo which we found located at the heart of a gated community – a first for me, it might be otherwise conceived as an outer suburb of purgatory, a rather grand suburban mausoleum of the twenty-first century. The houses lacked front doors, and instead each residence was fronted by a double garage, conceived as the primary entranceway to the home; pedestrians meanwhile were directed to what might in earlier days have been termed a tradesman's entrance at the rear, unmarked and nondescript in comparison to the grand portal offered to the SUV, which also enjoyed the liberty of the apartment's ground floor. The streets beyond were marked by a disquieting Lynchian manicured seriality and the lack of any discernible signs of life or associated detritus.
Fortunately there was a party on the inside and everyone had a great time catching up. Having been brought up in a comparatively small family it is a real joy to have married into a significantly larger one, with all their charming personalities and idiosyncrasies (not to mention genuine pleasantness), whilst at the same time having avoided any of the psychological trauma that might or might not have arisen from actually having grown up with them. I'm sure that sounds worse than I mean it to; I am really very fond of them, and, strangely enough, they seem to get on well enough with me too.
Ethan unruffled by his transcontinental expedition.
It's Uncle Steve!
From left to right: the edge of Jessica's face, her boyfriend Scott, Jeanne, Katrina (looking at Gene in background), Ethan in Julie's arms, Jody and Steve.
Grandpa Jack - ninety not out.
Nancy gives Ethan a big smooch.
Of course, this turned out to be an over-simplification.
The clan had gathered in West Palm Beach in celebration of Rachel's grandfather's ninetieth birthday, a city pretty much as far from Portland as it's possible to be whilst remaining in the same country; Ethan was however an angel on both flights, sleeping and playing and generally making the best of it. Friday night took us to Elyse and Steve's condo which we found located at the heart of a gated community – a first for me, it might be otherwise conceived as an outer suburb of purgatory, a rather grand suburban mausoleum of the twenty-first century. The houses lacked front doors, and instead each residence was fronted by a double garage, conceived as the primary entranceway to the home; pedestrians meanwhile were directed to what might in earlier days have been termed a tradesman's entrance at the rear, unmarked and nondescript in comparison to the grand portal offered to the SUV, which also enjoyed the liberty of the apartment's ground floor. The streets beyond were marked by a disquieting Lynchian manicured seriality and the lack of any discernible signs of life or associated detritus.
Fortunately there was a party on the inside and everyone had a great time catching up. Having been brought up in a comparatively small family it is a real joy to have married into a significantly larger one, with all their charming personalities and idiosyncrasies (not to mention genuine pleasantness), whilst at the same time having avoided any of the psychological trauma that might or might not have arisen from actually having grown up with them. I'm sure that sounds worse than I mean it to; I am really very fond of them, and, strangely enough, they seem to get on well enough with me too.
Ethan unruffled by his transcontinental expedition.
It's Uncle Steve!
From left to right: the edge of Jessica's face, her boyfriend Scott, Jeanne, Katrina (looking at Gene in background), Ethan in Julie's arms, Jody and Steve.
Grandpa Jack - ninety not out.
Nancy gives Ethan a big smooch.
posted by Richard Tammar at 1:24 PM
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