Florida Day 9

We woke up early this morning to get an early start to drive down to the Keys. I’m not sure if I specified previously, but we ended up on this road trip because earlier in the year, G3 commented that he wanted to go to Florida, to see Florida, the real Florida, not just “Micky’s house .” And we are going to the Keys because we have a habit of centering our vacations around National Parks.

The cat is alive. She was back out by the door this morning. I really do wish I could take her home. She looks so gentle and sweet and in need of affection. I am sad leaving and not taking her with me.

We left Miami around 6:30 this morning which got us to Key West around 9:30. Since we were hungry, we went directly to Harpoon Harry’s for breakfast. It was a cute restaurant and the food was no more expensive than breakfast was on the mainland. The home fries were good and I was happy they had sourdough toast.

While breakfast may not have been super expensive, parking was. But we had a spot, and we could add money via a parking app, and since Truman’s Little White House was only a half a mile away, we decided to walk. G3 and I took a tour of the house. Kati opted out. After getting up early, a nap in the shade was more appealing to her. The tour guide was so much better than the tour guide we had at Truman’s house in Missouri. The Missouri guy would only talk about the house not the President. Plus, he was boring. The guide today was enthusiastic and he genuinely seemed to enjoy telling stories about Truman.

The Little White House is the only presidential museum in Florida. No president was born in the Sunshine State and, until the man responsible for my Dad’s death took office, no other president spent a substantial amount of time in Florida. Before it was Truman’s Little White House, it was the housing quarters for the base commandant of the Naval Station. In 1912, Taft paid a visit to the station and stayed in the house briefly. Franklin D. Roosevelt also spent time there when he was the assistant secretary of the Navy, but only Truman conducted official presidential business from the house. While he was in office, he visited eleven times, spending  a total of 175 days in Key West.

Not too long after Truman took office, the stress of the job caused his health to become precarious. His doctors warned that he needed rest. That was his first visit to Key West and he fell in love with it instantly. His doctors also advised him to drink alcohol to keep his heart from failing. Therefore, every morning after breakfast, he walked over to the bar, drank a shot of Kentucky whiskey and then went out for a two mile walk. Apparently, he had an affinity for poker and played frequently, roping advisors and officers into joining him for games in the evening.

Key West weather was too hot and humid to wear a suit and tie while working. To keep comfortable, Truman and other government officials traded in their more formal attire for Khakis and Hawaiian shirts. It was while sitting at his desk in Key West that Truman drafted the charter for the UN and created NATO.

One of the framed pictures on the wall showed Dewy holding a copy of the Chicago Tribune with the headline, “Dewy Defeats Truman.” We all know the newspaper got it wrong, and in the picture, Truman is holding up the paper and smiling. The tour guide said that it wasn’t just the winner the paper got wrong. A framed copy of the front page clearly shows multiple typesetting mistakes, including a whole paragraph that read backwards. The night of the election, the typesetters were on strike so other workers from the paper filled in.

The Navel Station in Key West packed up and moved north in the 1960s. By then, submarines got too big for the channels and environmental groups got involved to prevent any more dredging of the channels. Previously, the Navy had dredged so much and so deeply that the dredged up sand and coral expanded the size of the island, but dredging also destroyed the coral reef. In 1969, at eighty-five years old, Truman visited Key West for the final time. However, one of his grandsons still visits regularly.

From the Little White House, we walked another half a mile to Ernest Hemingway’s house. This was a museum and tour Kati was as interested in as I was. And her interest had nothing to do with the author. She went for the cats. At Hemingway’s house, the cats are more popular than he is. I would bet that the majority of the tourists who visited go for the cats. Currently, there are roughly sixty cats living in the house and on the property. About half of the resident cats are polydactyl, meaning they have six toes instead of five. A few even have seven.

The cats are all descended from Snow White, the cat Hemingway had gotten from a sailor friend of his and had given to his sons. Snow White’s mother’s name was Snowball and they both were polydactyl. To prevent too much inbreeding, and to keep the gene pool healthy, occasionally another cat will be introduced to mate with one of the cats on site. To keep the cats healthy, a veterinarian visits once a week. The cats all seemed a bit on the small side, but maybe that’s because two of our cats are a bit big. It was a hot afternoon, so most of the cats were lounging in shaded areas, either in the garden under a tree or in one of the several little cat houses scattered on the grounds. Most of them were docile and sweet and let you pet them, but Kati and G3 said there was one cat that swatted at them. When Hemingway was alive, he named the cats after famous people he knew. The staff continues the tradition.

There were four four month old kittens in a cage in the shade. They are still being socialized and still getting used to the property. They are in the cage so they don’t get overwhelmed by all the people, but their caregivers let them out periodically throughout the day. When we saw them, one kitten was on his back in the most adorable pose and two others were cuddled together.

The cats are extremely popular, which’s means the crowd was unbearable. I would have loved to have sat with the cats and petted them all day but there were too many people.

In one corner of the yard is a cat cemetery. Each cat who died has a tiny plaque with their name and the years they lived  They also have their paw prints preserved in casts.

While the cats were the main attraction, we did take a tour of the house. Although, even the tour focused more on the cats than the man. In 1930, Key West was the wealthiest city in Florida. By 1933–during the Great Depression—it was the poorest. In an attempt to lure people to the city and increase tourism, Florida published a directory of where all the famous people lived. Hemingway hated all the gawkers, so he built a privacy wall out of brick around his property.

Hemingway’s writing studio was in a building separate from the house. In that studio, he wrote seventy percent of his books. I would love a writing studio separate from where everyone else lives. I would love a writing studio somewhere near water so that I could take walks on the beach or go swimming when I can’t focus or when I need to clear my head. I liked Hemingway’s studio, but Neruda’s—In Valparaiso, Chile—remains my favorite. And while I really liked being able to see where he wrote, I’m sure no one’s desk will excite me more than Laura Ingalls Wilder’s did. But I digress.

Hemingway was married four times, each marriage ending after he had an affair. When he first bought the house that is now a museum, it had a boxing ring in the garden. Hemingway loved boxing. It was one of his favorite pastimes. However, when his boys were young, he left his second wife at home with them while he went over seas. The Second World War was tearing Europe apart and he was a war correspondent. But that’s where he and his future—third wife—started spending too much time together. Bitter and yearning for revenge, his wife tore up the boxing ring, donated it to a local brothel, and had a swimming pool installed in its place.

In 1961, Hemingway, as most people know, killed himself. But that was up in Idaho, not in Key West.

When we left Hemingway’s, G3 went off with Kati to get some key lime pie. Key lime pie was first made and served in Key West. I wanted to see Tennessee Willam’s house even if I didn’t have time for a tour. It was deserted. I guess that’s what happens when you don’t have any cool pets. His house was also smaller and simpler than Hemingway’s. After snapping a quick picture, I walked around the Old Town and the Historic Seaport. Duval Street, with all the restaurants, bars, and gift shops, reminded me of Commercial Street in P-town, only it was bigger and louder and not as quaint. The streets were quieter as I moved away from Duval Street, but there wasn’t anything interesting to see or explore, just residential houses, some run down and some well-kept. The seaport was mobbed with people and the marina was jammed full of boats. I think I might have really enjoyed Key West back in Truman’s day, but now there are too many tourists.

I met Kati and Gary back at the car and we drove to Zachery Taylor Fort State Park. We were all sweaty and wanted to go swimming. While Kati and G3 headed down to the beach, I couldn’t resist the urge to see the Fort. Yeah, I know, I think we already set a family record for most forts seen on a road trip and we’ve only been traveling for nine days. The fort was built in 1845, and even though Florida seceded from the Union, the fort remained in Union control for the duration of the war. It aided the Union in its blockade of the South. The fort remained active during the Spanish-American War and both World Wars but no enemy ever fired on it. It was retired from service in 1947.

Since my family was already at the beach, I didn’t linger at the fort long, but by the time I caught up with them, they had already gotten out of the water. The water was hot, brown—it was only blue out a ways—there was too much seaweed and no waves. In short, it wasn’t fun. Instead of me taking a swim, we left and went to check in at the campground.

We are staying at another KOA. (The southern most KOA. Fairbanks was the northern most.) I thought it was in Key West, but I was wrong. It is on Sugarloaf Key.  I hate KOA’s. Actually, I detest them. They draw too many low lives who have no consideration for others. And this is the worst KOA we’ve ever been in with the worst people camping next to us. I am half way across the campground and I can hear their music blasting. Seriously, people who need to blast music should stay home. Quiet hours start at eleven and at exactly eleven, I will call to complain. We need to get up early again tomorrow and I need to get some sleep.

As if the campers blasting their music isn’t bad enough, the tent bed in this campground is cement. I can’t camp on cement. That would be unbearably uncomfortable. To save our backs, we hung up our hammocks. The KOA sits on a small beach. The water is calm and appears shallow, but after serval steps it drops off and becomes deep. The beach is sandy, but once you step in the water it’s bleached coral you are walking on and it hurts your feet if you are not careful. G3 dove right into the water. I decided not to go in. I wanted waves. But G3 wouldn’t take no from me. “You’re breaking the promise you made me when I was little,” he said.

“And what promises is that?” I asked.

“That you would always play with me if I had no one else.”

Honestly, when I made that promise, I didn’t expect it to be in effect when he was sixteen. Or maybe, I didn’t think he’d still want to play with me when he was sixteen. Either way, I couldn’t  let him down. I jumped right in without giving it any more thought. And I’m glad I did because I had fun playing with him and goofing around on the trampoline. I just wish I was younger, or that my body wasn’t getting old. My ankle especially has been acting up. I didn’t sprain it this year, but all the activity has stressed it and my multiple sprains throughout the years have taken their toll. I wished I could have done more or rough housed harder but my ankle wouldn’t let. I do think G3 appreciated me playing, even in a limited capacity.

At eleven o’clock, the rude people made no effort to heed the quiet hours. I called to complain and within ten minutes someone came and told them to break up the party. I am pleasantly surprised that they listened. Now, I can go to sleep.