“No Man Is a Failure Who Has Friends”

DSC_1589 Yesterday I wrote about the fire at Satchel’s that wrecked the kitchen there and forced a shut-down for some time. Yesterday was also the day Satchel started an online fundraiser to help pay his employees until the restaurant can reopen. He hoped to raise $20,000 in two weeks. He raised that much money in twenty-four hours. That’s how much Gainesville loves Satchel’s. He posted on Facebook tonight that he feels like Jimmy Stewart at the end of It’s a Wonderful Life.

 

Satchel’s

In less than a decade, Satchel’s Pizza has become a Gainesville institution, made more special by its east side location. Miriam and I have eaten there more times than I can remember, and for a long time it was our regular Friday afternoon date. We ate there the day we decided to buy the house we now live in, and I took my whole family on my graduation day. I was there as recently as a couple weeks ago.

On Tuesday night Satchel’s caught fire. Fortunately, no one seems to have been injured, and the structure was not a complete loss, as was the case with Napolitano’s some years back. But the kitchen was pretty well trashed, and the restaurant will likely be closed for weeks while they get it back in order. These will be a long few weeks, then, for a lot of people who love Satchel’s.

 

Summer of 76: Fire(works) and Rain

DSC_5790 I am of the very firm opinion that summer’s best days fall between Memorial Day weekend and Independence Day.  Indeed, the Fourth of July is both the climax and beginning of the end of Summer.  I have often found myself on a mid-August day thinking, “I can’t believe the Fourth of July was six weeks ago”.  So, this year, as usual, I was tremendously excited by the holiday, and well aware that it might be one of the most exciting weekends of the whole summer.  Little did I know!

In Gainesville, 3 July is a big day.  Since so many people are out of town in the summer, and those who are left often travel, the big fireworks display is held a day early.  Two years ago, in the midst of huge budget cuts, it was canceled, and only saved at the last minute by an anonymous donor who ponied up so everyone could enjoy a spectacle.  Last year, though, no savior came forth, and the town was silent and dark.  Since fireworks were scheduled to return this year, there was excitement all over town, and especially in my heart.

_DSC1798 In the afternoon we were invited to a pool party out in the country near Newberry.  We drove way out of Gainesville before heading north on a narrow two-lane road, and finally an unmarked dirt road.  Posted signs led us to the party.  All the derby girls were there, many with their significant others, and some even brought their children.  It was a huge crowd.

Everyone brought some food or drink.  Since the party had a luau theme I took Hawaiian Punch.  Sara made Jell-O shots–dozens of them–and they were wildly popular.  As time went on the girls went from eating them individually, to eating them in unison, and finally to feeding them to one another.  Eventually though, it turned into a game of catch, albeit with limited success. Everyone seemed to enjoy all the food.

_DSC1851 The weather was hot, of course, but mostly overcast.  It seemed as though it might rain at any time, and for a little while it did sprinkle a bit, but not for long.  And whatever rain and occasional thunder there was didn’t keep anyone from swimming in the pool.  At one point there were twenty-five people in the water.  I was more excited about the homemade slip and slideKaylen brought plastic sheeting and baby shampoo, and I helped lay out and spray down the plastic.  I hadn’t been on a slip and/or slide in years and I was really looking forward to it.  It was fun, but the ground where we set it up–the only place available–wasn’t especially soft or smooth.  As you slid you could feel every bump.  But a lot of people tried it out, and the kids loved it especially.

By the late afternoon it seemed like the storm clouds were gathering in the east, and with the Jell-O shots depleted people began to depart.  As we made it into town the sky was black.  We met up with Robin, Sarah Jean, and Kerri back at Kerri’s place.

The fireworks on campus begin at 9:30, and we hoped to get there before nine o’clock to find a good place on Flavet Field to set up our blanket.  Two years ago, at the last Fanfares and Fireworks, we had all met up and enjoyed the music and fireworks together.  This time, though, the rain that persisted well into the early evening meant that the field would be wet, so we also had some plastic to put beneath the blanket.  We arrived on campus shortly after 8:30, and I hoped that the rain was done for good.  But the storms that afternoon were not like the typical summer storms that come in swiftly, rain violently for an hour, then move on leaving clear skies.  This storm rained slow and steady for hours, not looking to let up.  We parked initially behind Weil Hall, but as no other cars were parked there, we thought perhaps other people knew something we didn’t, namely that the fireworks had been postponed due to rain.  The radio provided no information at all.  So we drove over toward the the Keys Complex across from McKethan Stadium where we found a police officer directing traffic.  She told us that no decision would be made until after nine o’clock.  So we drove back and parked again, and began walking.  But by the time we reached the corner of Gale Lemerand and Stadium Road the skies opened up again, and it began raining so hard that it was nearly impossible to see.

Possibly the Last Picture My Camera Ever Takes It was not quite nine o’clock, but the weather was so bad that all of us–including me–thought there was no way they could put on a fireworks display.  We decided then and there to cut our losses and go home.  Of all people, I am the most in love with fireworks and would be the last to be convinced that they might be canceled, but I saw no way that they could go on in that weather, and I did not doubt my conclusion for a moment.  On the way back to the car, as the deluge reached absurd proportions, we covered ourselves with whatever tarps and blankets we had.  When we reached our vehicle and I fumbled for the car keys, Kerri stood with her arms akimbo and asked me to take her picture.  I snapped a quick photograph, which involved the camera experiencing no more than three or four seconds of direct exposure to the elements, but that turned out to be a bad idea.  The picture you see here was the last my Nikon D70 would ever take.

The next morning I awoke and hung my flag on the house outside.  I read the newspaper which contained the shocking news that the fireworks display had, in fact, gone off as planned, though with a slight delay.  I couldn’t believe it.  Evidently there had been a brief window just before ten o’clock in which the rain subsided and they could uncover the pyrotechnic machinery.  I was, of course, sorry that I missed the fireworks, but I couldn’t feel sad about it.  The rain the night before had been so extreme that my very best judgment concluded fireworks were impossible.  I had not been talked into giving up, nor had I felt there was even a small chance.  In any case, I was actually glad that the few intrepid souls who had braved the weather were rewarded for their efforts.  They deserved it.

Sparklers! We had been invited back to Matt and Kerri’s house for barbecue and fun that evening.  Matt had kindly provided IBC cream soda again, which was a delightful treat.  I didn’t eat anything, but there was a whole buffet laid out, and, if I recall, everyone brought something.  Sarah Jean was there, of course, and Kat and Harris came, too.  After dark we set off our own cheap fireworks.  Sarah Jean made the most ghetto pyrotechnic display I’d ever seen, which consisted of a flaming black plastic trash bag hanging from a branch that dripped boiling liquid plastic onto the ground as the fire burned its way up the length of the bag.  We all had sparklers, and Kaylen brought some more impressive Roman candles and bottle rockets and such.  We did all of this in Matt and Kerri’s front yard along Northeast Ninth Street.  My camera was broken, so I was sad to only be able to capture the goings on with my cellphone camera, but that’s all I got.

Playing Super Mario Brothers Back inside the house we played the original Super Mario Bros. on Nintendo, and it was great.  I had never had that game, which was included with each Nintendo game console, because my system came with a book instead.  So I never got good at Super Mario, either.  That hasn’t changed.  Harris was expert.  We had a lot of fun.

And that was Independence Day 2010.

This Is Not Gainesville

Judgmental FoolsOne afternoon last November, as I walked across the campus of the University of Florida, I noticed two women who looked quite out-of-place.  One was pushing an infant in a stroller, and they both appeared to be stopping passing students to hand out literature of some sort.  That in and of itself is not unusual.  Like any college town full of young people experiencing their first taste of freedom, Gainesville sees its fair share of sinning.  And, like any college campus, UF sees its fair share of fiery preachers urging repentance, temperance, and chastity.  What was so striking about these women was their clothing.  They each wore a t-shirt emblazoned with the words “Islam is of the Devil”.  As I approached them, hoping not to draw their attention as I passed, I heard one call out to me in a German accent, “Do you know Islam is of the devil?”  I said, “I don’t want to hear it”, and walked briskly on.

Those women, who must have harassed dozens of students that day, were members of Dove World Outreach, the ironically-named church in Gainesville whose congregation numbers no more than fifty, and whose pastor, Terry Jones, plans to burn hundreds of copies of the Qur’an this Saturday – the ninth anniversary of the September 11th terrorist attacks.

The attention that those two women drew on a small scale last year has now transformed into something nearly every resident of this fair city finds unwelcome.  The notion that “any press is good press” certainly rings false in Gainesville.  A series of grisly murders twenty years ago cast a dark shadow that had not long been lifted when, in 2007, a highly publicized police incident made “don’t tase me, bro” a national mantra.  Today, reporters from newspapers and television networks around the world are descending on this city to witness a spectacle of ignorance and hate, and many readers and viewers may be left with the impression that Gainesville is a city of hicks and rednecks.  That would be a shame.

Quite to the contrary, Gainesville is a wonderfully open and progressive community: we have a female sheriff; our mayor is openly gay (and our previous mayor was a woman); the city hosts a popular Pride festival; the University draws students of every race, religion, and ethnicity from all over the world.  The idea that a few “Christian” fundamentalists who have completely misinterpreted the teachings of Jesus Christ and desecrate the holy book of one of the world’s great faiths has everyone I know in a state of shock and dismay.  The entire town is talking about it and wants nothing more than to see the hate stop.

UPDATE:  It is being reported this evening that the Qur’an burning has been called off.  Praise Jesus!

UPDATE:  The New York Times has a wonderful article explaining how “aghast” Gainesville is.  The best part:

Mr. Jones has become a reviled figure around the world. But the people of this youthful city in central Florida are taking his actions personally, with anger and heartbreak, as one of their neighbors drags their hometown into nearly nonstop news coverage and infamy.

UPDATETime also describes how Gainesville “rejects Koran-burning Pastor”.

Summer of 76: The Epic Weekend

Though summer in this hemisphere does not technically begin until late June, by the middle of May it was already well underway in Gainesville.  The weather was warm, all the college students were out of town, and I had three full months before I had to be back at school.

Thomas Center Wedding Reception On Friday, 15 May, our friends Matt and Kerri, who had been legally married for several months, finally hosted a reception at the Thomas Center gardens in northeast Gainesville.  Miriam and I dressed pretty and arrived somewhat early, so that we observed the caterers setting up tables and the band plugging in instruments.  Soon enough, all our other friends arrived, food was served, and Matt and Kerri wandered around greeting everyone.  There was an open bar, so I took advantage and drank many an IBC Root Beer.  The gardens looked beautiful after dark, since the newlyweds had carefully strung lights and hung decorations.  They gave out as favors some fake mustaches, and many guests were wearing them.  The band was talented, and though people didn’t dance so much, everyone appeared to be having a good time.  Such a good time, in fact, that some time after nine o’clock the police arrived.  Kerri greeted the officer wearing a fake mustache and explained that she and Matt had obtained a noise permit in advance.  The party continued.  In fact, it would have kept going had the Thomas Center staff not begun removing the tables and chairs.  It was well after ten o’clock when we all disbanded, but only to be parted for a few hours.

Sign Many of the party guests were roller derby girls, and the team was holding a car wash the following morning at Coffee Culture on 13th Street.  That place seems to like the Gainesville Roller Rebels: they even have a drink called a “Ruby Typhoon”.  The team had held successful car washes there before, and this was a good opportunity to raise money for charity.  Miriam and others arrived quite early, but I stopped by later on my way to work.  I was glad that Harris was there.  He’s fun to talk to.   Sara brought Coleslaw, which amused everyone.  Tradition has it that everyone will meet at Big Lou’s following a GRR carwash, and when I got out of work I rode my bike over there.  Alas, we sat outside in the sweltering heat.

_DSC4711 While I went Swimming at Kat and Harris’ apartment, Miriam spent the afternoon preparing food to take to a surprise birthday party for our friend Kyle that his girlfriend Adrienne was holding at her apartment.  Guests were advised to dress like Kyle, which for some meant wearing glasses.  Many of Kyle’s friends were there, and we all socialized until he was brought home unaware, we hoped, of the party that was waiting for him.  Kyle thought he was just coming over to Adrienne’s for a quiet dinner after having some drinks with friends at the Top.  You know how you become suspicious when your birthday is coming up, and people begin acting strange?   As the party went on, and reports came in describing Kyle’s whereabouts, we began to worry that the secret would get out.  At one point, Matt, who was with Kyle, informed Adrienne that Kyle had wanted to go to his own apartment.  This was bad, because all the party guests had parked in front of Kyle’s apartment.  When he observed the vehicles of all his friends he would be sure something was up.  But we hid anyway.  Some of us hid, that is.  A few friends stayed in the dining room, figuring that we could still get him even if he was suspicious by making him think that he was having a small party, then, Surprise!, we all jump out of Adrienne’s bedroom and it’s a big party.  So Adrienne tells us it’s time to hide, and we go in her room and turn off the lights and wait.  Kerri and I kept watch out the window, waiting for the boys to come up the steps.  After what seemed like forever, they finally arrived.  When he entered the house Adrienne was going to ask him to fetch something for her from her bathroom.  Sure enough, he opened the door, and I think we almost gave him a heart attack, if not from the surprise itself, then from the sheer amplitude of our shouting.  Everyone ate because there was seriously a lot of food, and Adrienne presented Kyle with a cakeWe partied until the early morning hours.

The Perfect Beach The next day (Sunday), Miriam and I awoke and readied ourselves for a little day trip to St. Augustine and the beach.  The weather was nice, and after a long search we found good parking in the old historic district of the city.  Everywhere you looked couples were walking hand-in-hand.  Unfortunately, the service was terrible at the restaurant where we ate lunch.  But after that unpleasant experience we took A1A south to Marineland and found a nearly deserted stretch of beach.  By the time we left we were the only ones there.  Alas, I forgot my camera, so all I got were cellphone pictures.  But it was a lovely Sunday, and the perfect end to an epic weekend.