Saturday, August 31, 2013

Gatorama Drama Revisited

A gator napping (really!)  
As a general rule, I don't write about the same experience twice. Rules are made to be broken, though, and hatching a baby gator at Gatorama is too much fun not to share.

Last year at this time Dorrit, Vicki and I headed to Palmdale to participate in Gatorama's annual hatching festival.  Dorrit went in 2011 (without me!), and I'd been marking time until the festival rolled around again.  It was truly an experience unlike any I'd had before, and my enthusiasm must have shone through in my posts about the outing since my friend Lindsey wanted in on this year's trip as soon as she read about it.   As it turns out, Lindsey and her neighbor Jane have become quite the gator aficionados since living at Riverwood.  Both of their homes are on the Myakka River, and they've been known to see a gator or two in their backyards.  So Jane rounded out our foursome for this year's adventure.

"My" gator 
We arrived at Gatorama with plenty of time to tour the property and watch a feeding before our birthing experience.  Uncle Wader's Pool is a new addition since last year.  For a small fee, you can take your shoes off, wade into a pool with ten small (two-three foot long) gators, and do a snatch and grab of the nearest reptile.  (Allen Register, owner of Gatorama, gave a demo first on the proper technique.)  I was all set to participate until I realized that everyone else who was going into the pool was under three feet tall.  My pride usually doesn't get in my way when there's an experience like this to be had, but I decided that I would feel too ridiculous running around picking up gators while parents snapped pictures of their small children doing the same thing.  (Jane, a sixth grade science teacher in her former life, commented that she thought the activity was probably stressing the gators out.  I wish I could say that was what swayed me, but it really was the humiliation factor.)

Another new activity being offered this year is the chance to sit on a 7 1/2 foot gator and have your picture taken. You might think that that sounds like it would be pretty scary.  Truthfully, it looked like it would be kind of lame.  Plus I thought it would be a bit cruel to impose my full body weight on another living being.  So, I passed on this as well.  On to the main event.

Having heard Allen's spiel last year about the egg collecting process didn't make it any less interesting.  When June rolls around, two person teams head out in search of gator eggs.  They are armed with a "gator stick," a nesting tray, and a sharpie.  Once a nest has been located, one person is responsible for fending off the mama gator by tapping her on the snout three times with the gator stick while the other person carefully marks the top of each egg with the sharpie before placing it in the nesting tray.  The baby gator is attached to the membrane on the top of the egg and has to remain so in order to survive.  Once the eggs are back at the ranch, Allen and his staff "candle" the eggs with a flashlight.  When they beam a light on the egg, a thin stripe appears if the egg is fertile.  If the color of the egg is the same on both sides of the stripe, the baby is alive.  Once this process has been completed, the "good" eggs are placed in an incubator for approximately 65 days until they are ready to be hatched.  Gatorama is under an obligation to the Florida Wildlife Conservation Commission to retrieve 100% of the gator eggs on its property each year.  This year 3,266 eggs were put into incubation.

Jane and her hatchling
The hatching process was quite different for me this year than last.  Last year's gator was ready to break through to the other side and quickly squirted out of its shell as soon as I'd made a small exit hole.  This year's gator was a bit more reluctant to enter the world, even after I had peeled a good bit of the top of the shell away.   When this happens, you coax the gator out by squeezing from the bottom of the shell like you would a tube of toothpaste.  My gator started chirping (surely asking if I was its mother) and then made a grand entrance, detaching itself from its shell with a swish of its tail.  Generally the babies remain attached to their shells for a few days, continuing to get nutrition from the membrane, and I was sure I'd killed it.  No worries, though.  The baby had all this rather disgusting gooey stuff (that's the technical term) on it that would sustain it for a few days.   After a few photos, I carefully placed him/her (the sex of a gator is indiscriminate for quite some time) in a trough with other newborns.

Lindsey and baby
Jane was up next and she was a natural.  Her only wish was that she could have done this with her students.  (She did comment, though, that it was fun to be on a field trip and not have to be a supervisor.)   Then it was Lindsey's turn.   You probably remember the scene in Gone with the Wind when Prissy, upon being pressed into service when Mellie goes into labor, says, "I ain't know nothin' about birthin' no babies!"   Despite her year-long anticipation of the event, Lindsey had a stricken look upon her face when it was her turn.   Her hands were literally shaking as she began to poke a hole in the shell so her gator could make its debut.  As you can tell by the photo, her hatching worked out just fine.   Dorrit was up last (but not least) and enjoyed the birthing experience after taking last year off to serve as the official trip photographer.  I think the gator tooth necklace she was wearing helped her baby gator make a smooth transition from egg to world.
Me, Dorrit, and Lindsey
With that, another successful outing to Gatorama was over.  If you're in the area and this has piqued your interest, the hatching festival will be running for a few more days.  And if this isn't your year, you can rest assured that there'll be another 3000+ baby gators next year just waiting for you to come help them emerge from their shells.







   

Saturday, August 24, 2013

A Vote Is a Fire Escape

Among the many things I take for granted is the right to vote.   While I might not always like my choice of candidates, I have the power to make my voice heard.  On two recent occasions I've been reminded that women were given the right to vote less than 100 years ago.   During my trip to Rochester this summer, I visited the Susan B. Anthony House. Anthony, of course, was one of the the earliest leaders in the women's suffrage movement.   Anthony died in 1906 after working tirelessly for her cause--and after having been rewarded for those efforts by being tried and convicted for voting in the 1872 Presidential Election.

A few years after Anthony's death, Alice Paul hit the suffragette scene, fresh from a stint in London where she was exposed to more radical means of working to enfranchise women than those engaged in by the National Woman Suffrage Association.   Paul's fight to obtain voting rights for women is the subject of the movie "Iron Jawed Angels" that was shown at a recent meeting of the Islettes (a women's group at the Isles Yacht Club).  The movie was fast-paced, continuously interesting, and full of information that I'm embarrassed I didn't know.  Having learned more about the story behind the passage of the Nineteenth Amendment, it's notable that high school history books focus on the work of Anthony without really mentioning Paul.  But that's a discussion for a different day.

Alice Paul 
In the movie, one of the ways that Paul garnered support for her cause was by making the point that "a vote is a fire escape."  At the time, many women and children worked in sweatshops.  If a fire broke out, workers often did not have a means of escape. The statement that "a vote is a fire escape" conveyed to women in a way that resonated that if they wanted to address working conditions and other issues that affected them, they had to have the right to vote.   (After a bit of internet surfing, it looks as if Ruza Wenzclaska, a Russian-born factory worker who was a member of the National Women Trades Union League, actually coined this powerful catch phrase.)

One of the interesting facts highlighted in the movie is that the women's suffrage movement had two distinct camps.  The first believed that the way to secure voting rights was through a state-by-state adoption of constitutional amendments. The second believed that efforts should be focused on securing passage of a U.S. constitutional amendment.  In the movie, you see Paul and her followers being driven out of the National Woman Suffrage Association due to their singleminded focus on a federal amendment.  They then formed the National Woman's Party.  This was not the first time this issue resulted in the creation of multiple suffragette organizations.  In fact, Susan B. Anthony established the NWSA in 1869 in response to the American Women Suffrage Association's decision to work solely towards the passage of state constitutional amendments.  For a bit more history on this point, go to http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/National_Woman_Suffrage_Association,

Silent Sentinels at the entrance to the White House
In addition to the divergence of opinions as to the best legislative approach to securing voting rights for women, the NWSA and the NWP took different tacks for raising awareness and achieving their goals. Paul's "radical" tactics ruffled more than a few feathers, especially once the United States declared war against Germany and became a full participant in WWI. Many thought it downright un-American for Paul and the members of the NWP to picket Wilson and the White House while the U.S. was at war.   In 1917 Paul and nine other "Silent Sentinels" were convicted of obstructing traffic and imprisoned at Occoquan Workhouse.   While there, Paul protested against the way the women prisoners were treated by going on a hunger strike.   The response:  brutal force feeding.  (These scenes in the movie were particularly shocking and made me recall Hilary Swank's performance in "Million Dollar Baby.")

"Iron Jawed Angels" gave me a much greater appreciation of the efforts and sacrifices that were made to secure voting rights for women.   I'm not surprised that the movie didn't do well in the theaters given the topic.  I have to admit that I went into the film expecting it to be on the dry side, one of those "it's good for you" kind of experiences.  I can assure you, though, that if you get the chance to see "Iron Jawed Angels", you will be anything but bored.  I can also assure you that if you're a woman, you won't take your right to vote for granted again.

Saturday, August 17, 2013

Water Park Virgin No More

Family vacations are fraught with danger.  If you'd asked me a couple of weeks ago, I would have said that the danger was purely of the emotional variety.   While there was plenty of emotion expended during my recent beach vacation with my family, I also found myself in what felt like physical danger when we spent the day at Shipwreck Island Water Park.

Pirates Plunge
Not having any kids, it's been a long time since I've been to an amusement park.  I have decided there should be a statute of limitations for going on any kind of ride that makes your stomach drop--maybe the last time you went on a coaster plus seven years.  Having violated this rule, I probably shouldn't have been surprised when I found myself screaming and a bit nauseous after even the mildest of rides.  And yet I was.

We started off easy on the White Knuckle River ride (located next to Pirates Plunge, a body slide that was Drew's first stop). Suzanne refers to White Knuckle as a "family ride" because up to four people can get in the inner tube and ride down the 660 foot twisting chute together.  It actually was fun (after the initial drop) to swirl around in the tube until you splash into the pool, and Suzanne and Drew only teased me a little bit about my shrieking.  Maybe I could do this after all.

The Great Shipwreck
After going on a few rides, we had worked up to The Great Shipwreck, a zip line over a pool. I had never zip lined before, so I was a bit nervous.  As you wait in line, you can watch the people ahead of you.  Some made it all the way to the end of the line (approximately 30 feet) before dropping into the water.  Others had a bit more difficulty.  You probably won't be surprised to find out which category I fell into (the operative word being "fell").  Drew had gone ahead of me and was waiting by the ladder where you climb out of the pool.  Having dried my hands off as best as I could, I grabbed the line and, with only a moment's hesitation, stepped off the platform -- and immediately dropped into the water.  The amount of time I actually held onto the line gives new meaning to the word "nano-second."   When I made my way to the surface--quite humiliated--the life guards were shouting to see if I was okay.  Drew said that he wanted to call out too but (i) he was laughing too hard and (ii) he didn't really want people to know he was with me.   I made my swim of shame to the ladder and climbed out, putting on a brave face.    Then Suzanne was up, and of course she made it to the end, doing ballerina moves with her legs the whole time.  I will never live this down.  Later in the week we went to Baytowne Wharf where I tried to redeem myself by going on a more traditional zip line with a harness and a seat.  It was literally terrifying to walk down the ramp and step off into the void.  Zip lining is officially off my list of approved activities.  But I digress...

From there we were off to the "wave pool", which is exactly what it sounds like.  You venture down a beach-like ramp into a big pool and eventually waves start pouring over you.  It was fun but it made me feel like I was going to throw up.  Obviously, it was time for a healthy amusement park lunch!  (As an aside, it didn't take me long to figure out that fruits and vegetables are not part of the diet of many of the Shipwreck Island-goers.  I was thankful for the "no g-strings" sign on the way in, although that's there for modesty/safety rather than aesthetic reasons.  Many of the tourists who were at the water park apparently didn't have mirrors in their hotel rooms.  Many also appeared to have forgotten their sun tan lotion at home -- ouch!!!)

After lunch, we made our way to Skull Island (basically a kiddie pool) to hang out while we digested. If you look in the back of this photo you will see a small body slide called "Pirates Race".  I liked that one.  It was very relaxing in this pool (although the "rain" came down a bit hard on my sensitive skin).

As we were figuring out what was up next on our schedule, we noticed that the life guards were bringing out their yellow slickers.  On cue, we began to hear claps of thunder, and an announcement was made that the rides were closed until the weather had cleared.  I was both disappointed and relieved.

Suzanne and the Jakester
My Shipwreck Island experience was obviously nothing like going to Atlantis where--I hear--you can slip and slide through chutes in shark tanks and participate in other over-the-top rides.  But it was a fun day that will go down in our family history.  While I might be persuaded to go to a water park again, for the time being, hanging out in the pool with Jakie is more my speed.







Monday, August 12, 2013

Turn Around Bright Eyes (Rituals of Love and Karaoke) by Rob Sheffield

I was intrigued the moment I heard about the concept behind this memoir by Rob Sheffield.  It's a sequel to Love is a Mix Tape, a New York Times bestseller that flew well below my radar.  If you search back into your memory before the days of MP3 players, you may remember putting together a cassette tape of songs for your or a friend's listening pleasure.  Surprisingly (not), I was never adept enough at the technology to create one myself.  But I did have a couple of great mix tapes that my friend Ellen put together (with songs by the likes of Robert Palmer and Roxette) to keep me going when I went for a run.  (As you can imagine, this was long ago and far away,  Back in the 1980s, I would on occasion head out in the morning for a jog around the Central Park Reservoir wearing a fanny pack holding what would now seem an unimaginably bulky Walkman.)

Sheffield has adapted the concept of a mix tape to his memoirs, with each chapter developed around a song or musician/band.  I will say upfront that I didn't immediately get into this book. Sheffield is in serious need of an editor who won't let him make the same point over and over within the space of a few paragraphs.  And I couldn't get a handle at all on Sheffield as a person.   As a writer for Rolling Stone, I envision him as a hip rock and roll guy.  But as you read the book, you realize that Sheffield could win an award for being the man who's most in touch with his feminine side.  He talks at some length about how he immersed himself in Lifetime movies when he was grieving for his first wife (who died suddenly at the age of 31 from a pulmonary embolism).  Really?  Of course I feel bad for the guy, but I don't even know any women who watch Lifetime movies.  And he is way, way, way too relationship/feelings oriented for me to recognize as an American male.  (Perhaps this is just my personal experience.  If you've met my ex-husband, you know that he's not exactly what you'd call a touchy-feely kind of guy.)  Add to that the whole karaoke thing, which I cannot relate to in the least.   Nonetheless, I kept reading Turn Around Bright Eyes and ended up thoroughly enjoying Sheffield's interesting and funny stories and insights.  Here are some tidbits that I wanted to share:

Karaoke Culture.  "Karaoke" is from the Japanese word meaning "empty orchestra."  (Similarly, "karate" means "empty hand.")    I have always thought that karaoke just took place in a bar where you sit and drink in a large room and wait your turn to belt out a song or two.  Wrong!  If you're really into it, some karaoke bars have private rooms that you can rent where you and your friends have the mike all night long.  Sing Sing (a chain with two locations in New York) is just one option.  http://www.karaokesingsing.com/  Sheffield says about Sing Sing that, "There's a door guy checking drivers' licenses, probably wishing he could be the door guy somewhere swankier, maybe a club where they have a velvet rope and a strict no-Journey policy."  (I thought this was funny even though I don't understand the Journey reference.  I learned later in the book that Journey was the first band to discover their lead singer when he was doing Journey karaoke. I think that's funny too.)

Rock 'n' Roll Fantasy Camp.  Did you know there was such a thing?  (Both my sister and my nephew did.)  For $5000, you can go to rock star camp for a week where the counselors are people like Billy Joel's drummer and Ted Nugent's guitarist and Peter Frampton's keyboardist.  Sheffield's retelling of the experience is quite hilarious, and he has no problem confessing that he ended up as the tambourine player for "his" band during the camp.  He admits that, "I have become obsessive about my tams.  Sorry -- my tambourines.  By now, my legs are in horrible pain [from hitting himself with his tams], and I can barely walk.  I start taking my tambourine with me into the bathroom, because I read somewhere that Eric Clapton used to do that with his guitar, so I learned to balance the tambourine on my head."

The Blame Game.  Sheffield talks a lot about how karaoke has invaded popular culture.  The topper, however, has to be an MTV show that's been on the air since 1998 called The Blame Game.  It is a show where couples who have broken up air their dirty laundry in public to find out who was "right."  Serious issues are considered, such as "The Case of the Tube Top Tease."  And at the end of each show, each person testifies in the Karaoke Chamber, singing a song to make their case.  What???!!!

Karaoke and Relationships.  Even though I was rolling my eyes at Sheffield's sensitive nature, I liked some of the things he had to say about relationships.  Sheffield acknowledges that his collection of Welcome Back, Kotter tapes might not have made him a chick magnet.  But, he says, "Don't we all have Kotter tapes in our closet?  Or their spiritual equivalent?...Is there such a thing as romantic love that does not depend upon someone embracing my deficiencies?"   He also talks about how karaoke is one of the ways that he and his wife communicate.  They are building a "shared language out of the things that fire up [their] blood.  Couples need as many of those languages as they can get."   A truer statement may never have been spoken.
 
There you have it:  my quick and dirty take on Turn Around Bright Eyes.  I still can't say that this is a "must read" book.  I will admit, though, that I laughed a lot while I was reading it, and I've found my conversation interspersed with stories from the book since I finished it earlier this week.  And I'm not even into music.  So if you're looking for a quick, entertaining read, check out Turn Around Bright Eyes.  Who knows?  It might even inspire you to hit the karaoke circuit!

Wednesday, August 7, 2013

Sarasota Trifecta, Part 3 - Owen's Fish Camp

I am quite certain that Sarasota is chock-full of great restaurants. And yet, like many people I know, I always seem to find myself at the Columbia Restaurant in St. Armand's Circle when I find myself in Sarasota for the day.   That has all changed with my introduction to Owen's Fish Camp.

From the menu at
Owen's Fish Camp
First, how can you resist a restaurant that calls itself a "fish camp"?  The mere name conjures up delicious down home food and a laid back atmosphere.  And if the name doesn't sufficiently entice you, just take a look at their website.  (You can find it at  http://www.owensfishcamp.com/.)  The minute the page opened I wanted to jump in the car and drive there.  

Susan, Steve, and I headed over to Owen's after seeing the matinee performance of South Beach Babylon at Florida Studio Theater.  The restaurant opens daily at 4:00, and I had worked up quite an appetite from our day of culture.


Susan, Tate and me
Owen's is nestled on Burns Lane in downtown Sarasota.   (It is next door to the Sarasota Film Society, an indie film house. Another great find!)  The building is incredibly inviting with screen doors that you can imagine kids running in and out of all day and lots of fun art.  The old gent in this picture with Susan and me is "Tate" (not Owen, as we had assumed). (Thanks are due to Bruce and Dorrit both for telling me about this place and for correcting me on this point.)

Steve and Susan
Since we arrived at the restaurant on the early side, a table was immediately available.  Seeing how taken we were with the decor, though, the waitstaff encouraged us to look around before we took our seats.  We loved the patio where you can hear rock music on Friday nights and  blue grass on Saturdays.  If you don't want to stand around while you listen to the music (or wait for your table), you can have a seat on the tire swing after helping yourself to a beer from the wooden barrel bearing a sign "Honor System Beers -- $2".  (Our waitress told us that they get a few IOUs and miscellaneous notes every night.)

Then it was time to eat.  I am delighted to tell you that Owen's did not disappoint.  The only problem was trying to decide what to order.   I settled on four huge scallops topped with pulled pork that sat on a bed of cheesy grits with succotash.   Susan tried fish tacos for the first time, and Steve opted for garlic snails (they wouldn't dare call them "escargot" here) with sweet wine and chorizo with sides of collard greens and black eyed peas and andouille sausage.  I couldn't say which of us was more happy with our selection. Are you drooling yet?

Owen Burns
It turns out that there's an interesting history behind Owen's Fish Shack that we missed entirely during our dining experience. Thank goodness Bruce and Dorrit were paying attention during their recent visit.  Owen Burns arrived in Southwest Florida in the 1910s when Sarasota was filled with, well, fish camps.  Burns ended up owning much of what is now Sarasota and became the premier developer of the area (as Bruce said, the "Trabue" of Sarasota, a reference we'll leave for another day).  His projects included St. Armand's Circle, Long Boat Key, and Ca d'Zan (John and Mable Ringling's home on Sarasota Bay).   Owen's Fish Camp is an homage by the Caragiulo family of restauranteurs both to Burns and to a simpler time.  (As an aside, the five Caragiulo brothers have two other restaurants -- Caragiulos, which features Italian-American cuisine, and Nancy's Bar-B-Q.  Definitely on my "to try" list.)

The next time you're in Sarasota, check out Owen's Fish Shack.  You are in for a real treat.  



  


     

Saturday, August 3, 2013

Sarasota Trifecta, Part 2 - South Beach Babylon

It was only fitting that Susan, Steve and I went to the American Moderns show at the Ringling Museum before heading to Florida Studio Theater to see the art-themed South Beach Babylon.   The description of the show reads, "Commercialism and artistic integrity battle it out as a group of artists prepare for the celebrated Art Basel event.  Is it possible to create art without selling one's soul?"  In case you're not familiar with Art Basel, it's a modern and contemporary art extravaganza that's been going on since 1970.   Art Basel originated in Basel, Switzerland, expanded to Miami Beach in 2002, and made its way to Hong Kong in 2013.  It includes not only "traditional" visual arts but installation pieces, performance art and film.   I haven't been but it's definitely on my "to do" list.  Here's a link if you're interested in learning more.  https://www.artbasel.com/ 

South Beach Babylon opens with Jonas, a discouraged young artist, driving aimlessly south. Having decided to pursue a career as an artist, he's now terrified of putting paint on canvas and letting people see his work.  He spots a billboard for the "New Face of Miami" that features a beautiful woman whose face has been cut out.  Intrigued, he finds himself veering off the highway, and he ends up in South Beach just as things are heating up for Art Basel.

In the opening scene, with salsa music pulsating in the background, we are introduced to the cast of characters whose lives will intersect with Jonas' over the course of the show. We meet Semira, the agent who knows everyone and everything that goes on at Art Basel.   There's Tony, the photographer who shot the "New Face of Miami" campaign, and Lennox, the model whose body graces the billboard that drew Jonas to South Beach.  (You get to see quite a bit of Lennox' body during the show, and it is quite spectacular. ) And then there are the artists participating in Art Basel:  Simon, a performance artist, and Chillie, an artist whose work is all about "color and shape."

The show is quite hilarious and very well-acted.  It raises questions about where the line is/should be between art and social statement and whether art should make you happy or make you think.   Simon falls firmly on the side of social statement/thinking with his intense performance pieces.  I loved hearing Semira (with her agent hat firmly on her head) and Lennox (with her ditzy model take on the world) describe his work and then listen to Simon's explanation about what he was trying to say. (Subjugation of some sort was usually involved.)  Having seen some installation pieces while gallery hopping in New York with Wendi, I'm embarrassed to confess that "But who would buy that?" is often my first thought. I understand that's not the point--and it's often very interesting to figure out what the point of the work actually is--but having to make a living is a fact of life.  And performance art is even more "out there" than installation pieces.

Damien Hirst with one of his
spot paintings
Chillie's art falls soundly on the other side of the equation and is clearly intended for the masses.  Again, I don't want to give away too much away  but it was impossible not to compare Chillie's work to Damien Hirst's spot paintings.  (Once more, Wendi is responsible for my familiarity with Hirst's work.  Last year she participated in the Gagosian Galleries' Complete Spot Challenge, touring eleven galleries worldwide to see the show.  You can learn more about the Challenge at http://www.gagosian.com/spotchallenge.)  If you see the show and read a bit about the creation of Hirst's spot paintings, you'll immediately understand the comparison.

South Beach Babylon is a great summer theater offering.  It will make you laugh.  It will make you think.  It will make you wish that you were younger and worked out more.  And it's running through August 18th, so there's still time to see it if you're in the Sarasota area.  I am looking forward to finding out what Florida Studio Theater will be offering in the fall.  With two main stage theaters and two cabaret spaces, there's bound to be something fun.




Revisiting the Arcadia All-Florida Championship Rodeo

Rodeo competitors (photo credit to Bruce Tompkins)  It had been more than a decade since I last attended the Arcadia Rodeo, known as "T...