It's a butterfly world out there. . .

I do my weekly Friday morning tram tours at Fairchild Tropical Botanic Garden, and by the end of the last tour, at 1pm, I am usually very happy to go directly home.  This Friday marked the last of my tours that included information on the installation of gorgeous Chihuly glass sculpture throughout the Garden.  With the arrival of the Hurricane Season, all art must be removed, and while I will miss the fabulous sculptures, I won't miss the giant crowds and full trams that have marked the last five months.

Newly released butterfly, waiting to open its wings.

Because I had my own visitors on my 12:30 tram yesterday, I stayed to have lunch at the Garden's Glasshaus Cafe and then accompanied my friends into the Exotic Butterfly Garden.  I  always urge  my tram guests to visit the Butterfly Garden, telling them that "it is a magical experience, with literally hundreds of  them fluttering overhead."  To tell you the truth, I hadn't actually visited the enclosed area since it officially opened over a year ago, so yesterday's visit was truly as magical an experience for me as it was for my guests.  It was, in fact, awesome.

We got really lucky and found ourselves on hand for the afternoon "release" of butterflies recently emerged from their cocoons. Two releases a day take place and you have to be very bored with life not to find yourself thrilled when the guide places the quivering butterfly, its wings still closed shut,, on your outstretched hand,  As you hold your breath, it begins to spread its wings a little wider apart with every passing second, until fully open and fluttering gently, it takes off on its first flight into the surrounding foliage.

I promise you, it really is a magical experience.

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Memory of a Mall. . .

Today's Miami Herald has a headline that reads "Cocowalk Sold Again for $87.5 Million".   Boy, did that bring back memories.

For you non-Grovites, CocoWalk is an iconic outdoor shopping mall in the heart of Coconut Grove.  It opened in 1990 to great fanfare and success with early tenants like Banana Republic and South Florida's first Cheesecake Factory.  In recent years it has fallen on hard times, but  I remember those early days well, because I was very much there.  Serving as the center's public relations agency during the building stage and responsible for giving it a name.

CocoWalk's original developer was an upscale French real estate company and my firm was hired during the preliminary stages to get publicity in the local papers and TV stations about its imminent arrival.  It was to be the very first truly commercial enterprise in the center part of the Grove, an area that was just emerging from its hippy period during the 60's, and artsy atmosphere during the 70's and 80's,

One of my first jobs was to name the new enterprise, and as was my practice, I came up with three suggestions, making it very clear that I thought the first was definitely the one with which they should go.
The Grove was originally developed by the Peacock family and one of its distinguishing characteristics is Peacock Park on the edge of Biscayne Bay.  Thus, my first name choice for this exciting new open air mini-mall was, drum roll please. . .Peacock Walk.

Everyone in our office loved the name, as did the ad agency when we told them.  Former New Yorker's among us were quick to note that the famous bar, in that city's posh Waldorf Astoria Hotel, was also called Peacock Walk.  I couldn't wait to present my choice at our next meeting with the client.

I did present it. With a flourish. Followed by dead silence from the client's side of the table.

"Is there a problem?" I inquired sweetly.  "Umm," said the boss client, an elegant Frenchman, looking vaguely embarrassed at what he was about to say.  "Peacock," he murmured, all the time looking down at the table.  "Not such a nice word in France. Do you have another suggestion, mon petit?"

That's how Coconut Grove's first mall got named CocoWalk. The second name on my list.
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Some thoughts about tattoos. .. .

I've never been a big believer in tattoos, but I think I've changed my mind.  I can't explain it better than what my grandson Adam posted on his Facebook page the other day, so I think I will just reprint his words here. 

"I've always loved tattoos but never had anything that I was passionate enough about to make permanent on my body. Then 4 years ago (his bday is tomorrow) Grayson changed our lives. So yesterday, at 36 years old, I got my first tattoo. Yes, that is his actual silhouette. I'm looking forward to explaining to random people the meaning behind the tattoo. DIFFERENT...NOT LESS!!!"

Adam's son, and my beautiful great-grandson Grayson, is autistic.  We have all learned so much about autism in the four short years that he has been with us.  One important moment of understanding about this puzzling situation came when Adam had us all read a book titled "The Reason I Jump" by a 14 year old autistic Japanese boy. That book allowed us to have insight into the very different world that our little boy was experiencing at times.  And if you have ever heard of Temple Grandin, or seen the documentary about her, you will recognize her very important description of people like her who live with autism, ,. "Different. . Not Less". . the words that Adam has added to the design of his tattoo.

I urge you to remember those words, because they are a true description of the person of any age on the autistic spectrum.  The puzzle pieces are also symbolic of autism and the color blue has come be associated with it as well.  A few weeks ago I posted a photo of myself wearing blue to celebrate "Light it up Blue for Autism" week. 

So here is the exciting news I am so happy to share with everyone. So far, Grayson is non-verbal. His Mom, Amy, and his Dad, Adam, have been working along with the wonderful teachers at the school he goes to, to hopefully help him to begin to talk.  Wednesday was G's 4th birthday and he gave all of us an incredible present. (The tears are starting to flow.)

 He spoke his first word!

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Poet laureate, I'm not.

I've never considered myself to be a poet, despite my penchant for writing jingles for every occasion in the life of my daughter Andrea and my grandson Adam.  Andrea received a birthday poem every year from age 16 to 21 and a "wedding poem" on the occasion of her marriage.  Adam was the recipient of poems all through high school and college, ending in his graduation from the University of Florida, although I think I remember writing a poem when he married Amy.

I mention this because I have just entered a poetry contest.  Don't ask why.  It's not exactly Emily Dickinson style poetry, actually it's more like haiku, very off beat, and really shouldn't rhyme, but it is a contest.  And the more I read about it, the more I knew I had to at least try.

This is O, Miami month here in Miami.  O, Miami is a Knight Foundation-funded organization that expands and advances literary culture in Greater Miami, FL.  At least that's what it says on the web site.  It produces visiting writer series and other programs that bring the best literature to the greatest number of people.  It also produces an annual Poetry Festival and this year they are asking entries to write an "Ode To Their Zip Code".  In other words, a five line poem with each line having the exact amount of words as the numbers in your zip code.

My zip code is 33133.  Not a lot of letters to work with, that's for sure, and please remember, I live in a place called Coconut Grove, and they tend to look for weird.  Here's my entry:

ODE TO 33133

Groove on, Grove.
Miami's last vestige
of
the bohemian lifestyle
disappearing into air.
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The winners get to read their entries aloud at the Festival's grand finale.  I'll let you know how I do.  Don't hold your breath.

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A morning to remember. . .arf, arf!

It's called "Walk, Waggle and Stroll" but it should be called "A Million Laughs for a Wonderful Cause".  I participated in the Miami Lighthouse's annual Dog Walk event, held at the Shops at MidTown Miami, on Sunday morning.  Didn't have my own canine (I'm a cat person as you well know) so I shared with friend Sheila's delicious dog Henry, a malti-poo, and friend Susie Conroy's gorgeous black Lab, Bella.

 Bella, incidentally, beat out a slew of other dogs to win First Prize in the "Dog Bobbing" contest. (Think "Bobbing for Apples" with kids at Xmas.)  While other dogs wagged their tails and thought twice about it, even as their owners begged, Bella went head first into the water in the big plastic container to retrieve the chunks of frankfurters down at the bottom.  As a matter of fact, Bella went back for seconds, possibly the reason Susie says she tends to be overweight.  She was the winner of that event, paws down.

The Miami Lighthouse's Annual Dog Walk is a very successful fund raiser for that very worthwhile non-profit agency, as well as just an incredibly funny and fun event. This year over $20,000 was raised, and will go towards supporting orientation and mobility services for the blind and visually impaired. The actual "walk" part, about a half mile around the area, was lead by Lighthouse CEO Virginia Jacko and her wonderful yellow Lab (and my great friend when he has his work harness off), Kieran, plus Honorary Chairman of the event, Miami Dade County Commissioner Sally Heyman, with her two beautiful dogs. Sheila, Susie and I "walked the walk" with Henry and Bella, stopping to take lots of pictures and returning to the park to watch all the hilarious dog "contests".
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Photo captions:  (1)  Ready to walk in our Britto-designed tee shirts
                           (2)  The brochure
                           (3)   Henry, looking handsome, in his St. Paddy's Day outfit
                           (4)   Susie, congratulating soaking wet Bella, on her big win.

I'd like to say right here that Henry should have won "Best Costume".  Unfortunately, there was a little problem with his hat falling off at a critical moment in the judging, and he was upstaged by a rottweiler in a tutu.  What can I tell you.

A difficult question. . .

My old friend Marty Kahn called me this morning to consult on a very important matter. . .what to do with all his old ski equipment and ski clothes that he hasn't used or worn for several years but just can't get himself to throw or give away.  I totally understood his problem.  Both of us have come to the realization that our skiing days are over, but not without a struggle. Mainly, I think, because we're forced to acknowledge that if either of us took a header on the slopes, we'd both have a helluva time getting back up.

Marty called me for my opinion because we have "history"when it comes to skiing.  That's because back umpteen years ago when I turned 50, I decided the ex and I should learn to ski. The ex was a Bronx boy who had never even been on a mountain, but he was game to try.  Although I went to college in snowbound Syracuse, nice Jewish girls didn't do stuff like that in those days, so obviously, I was pretty mature when I decided to suddenly become an athlete.  Marty and his late wife Nancy were our close friends, and if the Spectors were going to learn to ski, I insisted the Kahns followed suit.  And ski we did, all over the world together, on many great occasions.

Today, Marty is a very respected retired judge.  We actually met more than 40 years ago when he served as City Attorney for the City of North Miami and I was the Public Relations Director for that municipality.  Times have changed for our old home town as well.  Today it is the largest Haitian community in the U.S.

I wasn't much of a help in answering Marty's questions on what to do with all his "stuff".  I still have a pair of skis leaning against the side wall of my storage locker downstairs in my condo building, just in case.  I did send a lot of my ski clothes to my surrogate daughter Allison when she was living in Colorado, but I admit to being unable to part with my favorite red velvet ski jacket , that is still hanging in my closet, just in case it ever snows in Miami, or I happen to find myself on top of a mountain in Switzerland.  (  Yeah, that's me in the photo, wearing my favorite, on top of some mountain.)

Hope springs eternal.
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Photo caption:

A trip back in time. .

My friend Sheila and I went to the Annual Gifford Lane Art Stroll today.  Gifford Lane is a throwback to Coconut Grove in the early 60's.  The houses on the street are all small wood cottages, surrounded by huge shade trees and overgrown shrubs. You can't exactly call it landscaping, it's more like Nature made the decisions as to what went where and the homeowners came along for the ride.

We went for the art, but the atmosphere of this quiet little street in Center Grove, particularly during Art Stroll,  is simply marvelous.  At one point, we were invited into a home where the owner had her art on display throughout this typical 60's cottage which is exactly as it must have looked then, sans air conditioning, (that was only for the wealthy in those days), and today's inevitable computer and printer on the owner's desk.  For a donation to some local charity, I can't remember which at the moment, Sheila and I each enjoyed a frosty "cucumber & gin" drink, that was ladled out of a huge glass bowl and was absolutely wonderful.  That's me gratefully drinking up in the back yard of the house. (For you guys reading this up North, welcome to South Florida. . it's 80 degrees and getting hot here today.)

As usual, dogs were everywhere, all getting along wonderfully.  Do you have to guess what I had for lunch?  I have to either give up going to art shows or get help for my arepa addiction.

For those of us who remember Coconut Grove as a bucolic, artsy little village, Gifford Lane is truly a trip back in time.  Today the Grove is super sophisticated with multi-million dollar condos going up everywhere you look along Bayshore Drive with its coveted view of Biscayne Bay.  I guess it's a sign of age, but it is fun to remember.
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Informality is the order of the day.

Drinking up my Gin and Cucumbers!

Only in The Grove. . the line under Medical Marijuana jars reads "I guess you could put other stuff in them!"