I dreamed of coming to Key West since boyhood. I fell in love with the whole concept of Florida watching Flipper on TV. Even though, back then, it was black and white, I colorized it in my mind and fantasized over how wonderful life would be surrounded by tall, swaying, palms, white sandy beaches, emerald, green waters, and an abundance of tropical sea life. I watched the show religiously, which planted a seed that would take more than forty years to germinate.
Flipper had been a childhood metaphor for the Florida Keys, and the Florida Keys later in my life became a metaphor for escape: escape from the rat race of a feeding frenzied, material-driven world. The Keys represented an antidote to the world’s madness, a place of solace for body, mind, and spirit.
I visited Key West for the first time in 2001 while living in Annapolis, Maryland. A friend invited me along on a road trip to go spend a week there. I was ecstatic. In the car on the way down, I was worse than an eight-year-old boy on his way to Disney World. Many times, my friend felt the need to chastise my childish exuberance, telling me to get a grip. He had no idea how much the trip meant to me. It was the fulfillment of a life-long dream.
Upon arrival, the impact of the tiny island paradise upon me was sudden and strong. It was something words could never fully express. In short, I felt good there. In fact, I felt good all over to the depths of my being. Specifically, what triggered this response eluded me. After a while, I quit analyzing why and simply embraced the “feel good.” Over time, I have had the pleasure of listening to other people share their very similar reaction to the island.
I couldn’t help but notice my instant ability to breathe. I was so amazed at this that I felt the need to tell everyone around me. Having lived in the mid-Atlantic states for so many years, suffering with chronic sinus problems: constant post-nasal drip, a dry, irritating cough, that had me taking daily medications and using an inhaler, breathing was nothing short of a miracle. Even on my best days in Maryland, I was miserable. After a while, I simply accepted feeling miserable as a way of life, until Key West. There, I could breathe. There, I slept through the night. There, I felt an inexplicable inner peace and calm.
On an island that can easily be fit into a two by four-mile box, there are close to one hundred churches of just about every known denomination, and then some. All those churches and yet the island is most known as an anything goes, laid back, alcohol guzzling, community with a non-stop carnival atmosphere: a real modern-day Sodom and Gomora, some might say. Though true, it is narrowly focused in and around Duval Street, which boasts over three hundred bars: gay, straight, and clothing optional. Truth be known, the vast majority of Key West is simply a quaint little slice of Americana, complete with schools, churches, scouting, little league, and businesses of every kind.
There is a unique charm to the island, that is strongly conducive to creativity and consequently beckons to creative souls of every genre from around the world. The island is abundantly rich in writers, artists, musicians, and actors. The spirit is laid back. The creative spirit is very vibrant and alive.
I have returned multiple times, and each time I have stayed for years on end.