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This is a political advertisement paid for and approved by Sandra Downs (NPA) for Sheriff. |
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“No shirt, No shoes, No service” signs seemed to be popping up in the Keys in 2002 with this message. Until then, I don’t recall many people having both of those items on at one time. You’d wear shoes for the hot pavement, but if it was that hot, you wouldn’t have a shirt on. If you were wearing a shirt it was because you were hiding your new tattoo from the sun or else it was raining, which means the roads weren’t hot. Nevertheless, what I’m trying to say is, it was relaxed here in the Keys. The bumper sticker still applied: Slow down, this isn’t the mainland. Below one stop sign in Key West was the word RELAX spray painted below STOP. No one bothered to replace it. It seemed to be just perfect. I even thought all stop signs should have that painted below the word STOP. It just made for good karma. The homeless people mingled with the rich. And there were still the famous here. I don’t mean the famous that come in limos to hide, I mean the famous in baseball caps slugging down beers with the locals and trying to fit in to our world. Life was a lazy dream with lots of clouds that changed every day so you never got tired of looking at the scenery. It always was entertaining. It was always endearing. The cars were old beat up $400.00 little heaps. There were no hummers roaring down the roads. The roads were so small, so the cars were small. It just made sense. When a car didn’t look pretty anymore, some folks would just get different colors of paint and put a mural on it. Some really creative people put mirrors, and the real artists made giant lobsters and seagulls and attached them to their cars for ornaments. These cars were so plentiful, that there was a special show for them with awards given out. Back to the homeless people, the chickens, the Navy jets, the Houseboat Row on Roosevelt…all of those things were our heritage, a part of who we were. We resembled a bunch of grade school kids playing baseball with our old jeans, flip-flops, oversized mitts and dog eaten balls. We were in a yard, not a park. We were home. It was our home and we loved it. We loved all of it. The heat in the summer drove away the tourists and we had our little town all to ourselves. No more waits for a beer at the bar. The fishermen mingled longer before they headed home. They were patient enough to compare fish stories and show their prizes. No one rushed, and life just followed us. We did not have to solicit. We were the Keys, no need to prove it. Our politicians were colorful and fun. I doubt they could have been elected anywhere else. They were just a group of peculiar folks. The money was starting to come in, but no one really cared. The most impressive thing you could show was a big fish, not a big wallet. Hurricanes threatened, and we had parties. Winn Dixie sold Budweiser beer for $5 .00 a 12 pack. Everybody stocked up. We had our town to ourselves at those times and the neighborhoods rallied together. We waited for the hurricane wind to blow away the mosquitoes and were sad when it was all over, and business was back as usual. Yes, we mostly all had jobs, but it was just sort of an inconvenience you dealt with waiting for your time off. Like the mosquitoes and no see-ums. We knew we had to deal with them, but we hoped for a day we wouldn’t! Not many of the old locals had health insurance, so every time a sickness came that was serious, there would be a fund raising party. Almost like the old barn raisings of old. People would get together, party and in one night try to throw in as much money as they could to solve the problem of the medical bills. Funny, how pirates and parties have the same letters. We were all pirates then. We were all on the same ship. Nobody wanted anything to change. Or so we thought. We elected the quirky politicians that seemed to have no interest in greed, Tallahassee, and 3 story beige concrete buildings. But somewhere down the line, we were fooled. They said one thing, and then voted for another after they were elected. It didn’t take but a couple of years to destroy nearly everything the Keys once were. They voted out people who were poor and eccentric, and voted in the people that were arrogant and rich. They opted for dog parks, and vetoed free roaming chickens. They removed Houseboat Row with their Christmas ornaments lit up 365 days a year and built a hotel that killed guests. They voted out homeless people and locked ‘em all up off site by the jail in a sleeping facility. They voted out open containers, and voted in government corruption. They voted out the homesteaders and brought in Tallahassee. They voted out friendly police and brought in the police state. They persecuted, tormented, and prosecuted all whom would not go quietly away and make room for the money. I don’t know how the streets got how they are now--a lonely sidewalk with joggers instead of those marveling at the clouds. I don’t know how the high school changed its shape in the middle of the night to resemble a prison with guards patrolling it 24/7. Where’s the pool at this new facility? I don’t know what happened to the children. I suppose they are only in the Bahama Village now. It seems that was the only place left with soul. But the Miami drug dealers came in and changed that, and the police looked the other way, because someone got paid off somewhere or something went wrong…because it’s not that hard to find the drugs with dogs. Where are they looking? We now have a lot of new car dealerships. The hand-painted cars went out of this town with their owners and never came back. The car show is going to be a sad one with only one car in it. Soon Biz-Baz will be a thing of the past, because the millionaires don’t need our bargains, and our own Princess Leah will be looking for a job in Atlanta or somewhere. No, we can’t stop the evolvement of our community, but for God’s sake, we can shape it. I know, this is not the Keys which attracted thousands of visitors from as far away as Australia. They used to breathe in at the airport and cry when they left. Now, they will come once, and never return. They will tell their friends, it’s just another eyesore of what used to be paradise. Did anyone realize what the boat people meant to us? It meant we weren’t like everywhere else. And the chickens? Do you know how many visitors photograph them? I bet more than visit the Hemingway House. What about the Hemingway cats, oh, lock them up too I guess. We have an ex-county mayor getting an airport named for him while he’s up for sexual harassment charges. We have several families controlling all of the Keys and the development. We have no voter voice. No one is listening to us. The commissioners don’t return the phone calls, their doors are always closed to the public, and when the public shows up at the meetings, their voices are muzzled, if heard at all. The newspaper doesn’t print the dirt on the top dogs, until it is all over the streets and they can’t avoid it. Some people are immune from prosecution, while innocent people are prosecuted and given meritless public defenders who force them to plea to charges they didn’t commit. Our whole community is based on fairness, or was. Without fairness, the people lose faith. Without faith in justice, people take matters into their own hands. When people take matters into their own hands, they are arrested. When will we wake up?
Please consider what our politicians have done to us, and voice your complaints if you value our history. Fight for the poor to be able to stay here, because trust me, if you are not a locked in Bubba, you are the one you will be fighting for eventually. None of us are immune to their brand of progress, and obviously any reminder of the Keys we loved is not permitted. Soon we will have replicas of what those funny cars looked like in a museum, and the chickens will be locked up in cages so visitors can see them. There will be no AIDS memorial; it would remind us of our colorful past and the eccentric people who lived here. And that won’t be tolerated. You better start fighting for what you want to stay here, because the teams are in place and are rapidly removing every remembrance of our beloved Keys. Thank you for reading my letter, I hope you will be outraged as you realize what all has already been lost, and I hope you will find the courage to do what you can to protect what you loved and love about the Keys. Sandra Downs |
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When
we are so frustrated that we put our belongings on the street for
sale and leave in our cars with our pets and move to Costa Rica? Or
will we fight for what is right as a group, and stop the madness and
the greed that has taken over our island? We need to stand together
and try to move away from concrete and beige buildings, gated
communities, and $100.00 per meal restaurants, and step back into
the past of the pinks and greens, the close knit neighborhoods, and
the homemade clam chowder and real grouper sandwiches. We need to
support the fishermen, the homeless, the chickens, the iguanas, the
reefs, the beaches, the boat dwellers, etc. We need to consider all
of the Keys as a historical district and act accordingly to preserve
it!