Merna ~ My Favorite Lab Tech

These photos are scanned off of 4x6 inch "drugstore prints". I use the Walgreens on the corner of Biscayne Blvd. and 123rd St. here in North Miami, and I try to schedule things so Merna is there to process my film and make the prints. When she's on duty I can be sure that the chemicals are fresh, and she has a great eye for tweaking the controls to get good color and proper density. She has a pretty face and a great smile. She wears a wedding ring.

On the counter next to my hand is the pile of prints from the N.M. Historical Society luncheon a week or so ago at the Czech Club, and I'm blowing her a kiss because she earned it!

Thanks, Merna!

Why I Stopped Getting Haircuts

A few years back when Scott asked me to help him start the North Miami Historical Society my first reaction was "OMG! Not another meeting to attend every month!" but he was persuasive, and then we were both persuasive, and we managed to drag a number of others with us, deeper and deeper into the mire of our city's convoluted history. We still haven't managed to get any young folk interested in joining, but give them time. They'll get old too, and then they'll be begging to be let in to The Inner Circle.

Last week we had our annual luncheon at the Czech Club, a beautiful 1920's vintage buildig set back in what little remains of woods within the city limits. At some point somebody decided that air conditioning was more important than architectural integrity, which accounts for the out of place looking dropped ceiling hiding the ductwork in the foreground. Directly below you can see the table holding various items for the silent auction.

The entertainment was scheduled to interrupt our coffee and desert, and all I wanted to do was go outside and have a cigarette by then. I was polite though,and watched as these four gentlemen did their best to to imitate a barbershop quartet. If barber shop quartets still existed in the real world that would be reason enough to avoid barber shops! Well, I'm not suffering from a thinning top or a receding hairline, and I haven't had a haircut in over six months. I get a lot of guys asking what my secret is. I put on a straight face and tell them matter of factly "You gotta smoke lots of pot and screw lots of young chicks!" Some of them might even believe me.

Now see that group of ladies on the right side of the picture? They're about the right age where I can consider them to be "young chicks", and they're the ones married to the balding guys with big paunches. Women that age are always fawning over my hair. They ask if they can touch it, maybe even run their fingers through it (to see if it's real?) and they ask me what my secret might be. "I don't drink and I like to put a smile on a lady's face". They all believe me.

The Checkered Past Of The Czech Club

We were heading over to the Czech Club for the annual North Miami Historical Society luncheon. Monkette told me to wear the cammo shirt. She and I have different concepts of "cammo". I'm thinking lots of blotchy olive drab, shades of brown, a bit of black perhaps, printed on a heavy twill fabric. She's thinking this 100% silk shirt with an abstract palm fronds pattern in shades of green against light sky blue. She was right, of course, always is! It blended perfectly with the oak trees and undergrowth, blue sky showing between the leaves. Perfect!

I sat her up on my shoulder as we walked through the wooded parking area while she stylishly arranged the curls on my still drying hair. We spent a few minutes walking around the grounds as I told her how supposedly back in the 1920's Al Capone's gang of rum runners smuggled whiskey from the Bahamas into Biscayne Bay and then up Arch Creek to this very building! She giggled and said "I bet that's not the only thing that's been smuggled up Arch Creek!" She's very probably right about that. About twenty-five years ago a lot of bales of pot wrapped in plastic were washing up on the beach as smugglers threw it overboard while being chased by the Coast Guard or the Marine Patrol. Meanwhile other people were getting busted for having a single bale aboard despite protesting that they had just found it floating out there.

I asked the police chief about exactly what the story was, and keep in mind that this was before cell phones. He said that if I found a bale while out fishing I should haul it aboard and immediately throw my handheld marine radio overboard, then head back into the bay and then to the launching ramp. If at any time on the way I spotted a police boat, Marine Patrol, or Coast Guard vessel, I should immediately head straight towards it yelling "Hey guys! Look what I found floating out there!" and just forget about the hundred bucks that the radio had cost me.

If I didn't spot any of those boats on the way in "Just head back to the ramp, drive home, and enjoy!" he told me. I never did find a bale. Monkette was fascinated at just how much things had changed over the years, my hair was nearly dry and now a forest of neat curls, and it was time to head inside the Czech Club. Monkette asked if there were likely to be people she hadn't met yet and I told her that yes, there was a good chance of that. She said that if anybody asked if that was a toy monkey on my shoulder I should tell them "No, that's the newest style in cell phones!"