Old Miami vs. New Miami vs. Newer Miami

It's so nice that Miami has such a sweet short history. I mean a city that barely cracks 118 years old is like an adolescent to a city like, say Boston which will be 400 in a few years, or London which is close 2000 years of habitation.  Basically Miami is an embryo.  Which is a good thing, because with a city so new, you're actually living history, and you can see, in your own lifetime giant changes, and glimpses of the past that remain. Another cool thing is that our cultural institutions are living up to the promise of what great cities should have.  Things like the Miami City Ballet, the Grand Opera are world class. Our panapoly of professional sports teams should be the envy of any city striving for excellence.  So not to bore you any more here a few things that have changed since my family arrived back in the 19th Century.

Locals:

Old Miami:  "I was born in Dr. Jackson's medical shack on Brickell Ave." My Grandma.

New Miami: " I was born in Jackson Memorial Hospital" My dad.

Newer Miami "I was born in Cuba" everyone I hang out with.

Language:

Old Miami: pronounced "Miamah"

New Miami: pronounced "Miami"

Newer Miami: "MeeAmee"

Travel:

Old Miami: Pan American Airlines

New Miami: Eastern Airlines, National Airlines

Newer Miami: American Airlines

Power brokers:

Old Miami: Henry Flagler

New Miami: Jorge Mas-Canosa

Newer Miami: Jorge Perez

Entertainment Areas:

Old Miami: Coconut Grove

New Miami: South Beach

Newer Miami: Mary Brickell Village

Shopping:

Old Miami: Flagler St.

New Miami: Dadeland Mall

Newer Miami: Dolfin Mall, Aventura Mall

High end shopping:

Old Miami: Lincoln Road

New Miami: Bal Harbor

Newer Miami: Merrick Place

Cruiselines:

Old Miami: Dolphin Cruises

New Miami: Carnival Cruise Lines

Newer Miami: MSC Divina

Crooks:

Old Miami: Al Capone

New Miami: Miami River Cops

Newer Miami: where to begin?

Stores:

Old Miami: Jordan Marsh

New Miami: Burdines

Newer Miami: Macy's

Hotels:

Old Miami: Biltmore Hotel

New Miami: Intercontinental Miami

Newer Miami: Peninsula Hotel, Four Seasons, Ritz Carleton, Setai

Restaurants:

Old Miami: Joe's Stone Crab

New Miami: Versailles

Newer Miami: Juvia

Obnoxious Visitors:

Old Miami: New Yorkers

New Miami: Porteños

Newer Miami: Paulistas

Local Shows:

Old Miami: Jackie Gleason Show

New Miami: Miami Vice

Newer Miami: Burn Notice

Suburbs:

Old Miami: Coral Gables

New Miami: Kendall

Newer Miami: Doral, Weston

Hispanic Enclaves:

Old Miami: Little Havana

New Miami: Westchester, Hialeah

Newer Miami: Key Biscayne

Miami Like a Local or Five Things To Do In Miami in April

Ok, I'm going to pull the old "fourth generation Miamian" cred to mention some cool stuff that you can do in April when Miami's weather is at its most glorious.  Here are some great things you can do which can be off the beaten track but well worth the effort. 

And it exceeds expectations....except maybe for the art. 

1. Visit the new Art Museum: controversies aside, and that Miami only gets second billing in the name, it's still pretty great.  Whatever you think about its art collection, there is no doubt that the building built by Herzog & de Meuron is fantastic. It is truly Miami's new front porch. Chillax on the best and biggest veranda in town. Not since Schuckers collapsed have we had a nice sit down view of our beautiful Biscayne Bay. 

2. Ride your bike out to the old secret Aerojet military base in the Everglades.  A testing ground for rockets to be launched to moon, it's amazingly, eerily cool. Old bunkers and hangers abound festooned with some the best graffiti murals south of Wynwood.  It's a five mile hike in and out and it's perfect for a casual bike ride. The road in is in very good shape. Very little shade, get out there now before the bugs take over in the summer. Check out Robert Is Here fruitstand  on your way home.

Tastes like chicken

3. Shark Valley is always a fun bike ride. Yeah, it's not exactly "seeing Miami like a local" but there are a lot fewer tourists at this North entrance of the Everglades than down in Flamingo.  A great 15 mile loop with a tower at the half-way mark.  Great views of gators, glades and birds.  Get there early on your own bike and take the loop to see the amazing varieties of birds. Locals know not to get too close to gators resting on the roadway. 

4. Kayak Biscayne bay, whether its a quick nature jaunt through Oleta State Park's mangroves or gawk at the Venetian Islands' mansions. A full moon kayak will let you watch how the 1% wander through their waterfront homes unbeknownst that voyeurs are drifting just yards away. Check out the spill islands along the channels and paddle up to the sandbars around Haulover to see boat to boat hi-jinks.

5. Go to South Point Park different times a day. There's a terrific dog park at one end that's always busy. The beaches, watching the cruise ships come in, and there seems to be plenty of parking. The light columns at night are mesmerizing as they change colors. Truly one of America's great urban waterfront parks. It's everything Miami's Bayfront Park should be but isn't. 

So there you go.....enjoy your Miami "Spring". Which means good weather and fewer bugs. 

Anchor Babies, Kiev, Dog Parks, Caracas, Learn Spanish

So it's been an interesting few weeks in global affairs. Apparently the cold-war restarted, and Venezuela is in some kind of melt-down.  It's in this now interconnected world it plays out in my personal life and even at my local dog park.

Let's take, for example, the problems in Ukraine.  You would think that an uprising so far away would have small ripples in balmy South Florida.   My hubby works for a company based behind the Iron Curtain. (I'm going to just use Cold War terms from here on out.)  His boss makes a mysterious trip to "check out" the South Florida office. An office with just six employees.  A very small branch office of a large multinational company.  Every one is in a fuss....nobody knows why he's coming.  They invite him and his wife out to dinner......she shows up with her 10 day old baby.....her ten day old "anchor" baby.  They are proud parents of an American citizen.  She proceeds to tell us how all her friends back home use a large network of hospitals and doctors that cater well-to-do Eastern Europeans who want their babies born in the U.S.  I was wondering if recent events might alter her very sunny maternity in Sunny Isles along with all her well-to-do Soviet moms that are busily hatching new ties to the west everyday. What surprised me more was the matter-of-fact way it was presented. It is as if she was saying: "Of course my baby will be born in the West, really, do you think I want  to live my life out in that gulag we call a country?"

So yesterday I'm at the lovely Legion Park on Biscayne Bay.  The nice winter weather and my new puppy are what draws me there. I'm chatting with some fellow native English speakers. My neighborhood is very eclectic but weirdly, it's not dominated by Spanish speakers like many other parts of Miami are.  We are having a pleasant conversation, playing fetch with our dogs and enjoying the nice weather as they romp across an open field. A family of Venezuelans greet us everyday and play with the dogs. They don't speak any English. I chat with her in Spanish and ask a few questions about the situation in Caracas and how things are. "Your friends should learn Spanish, she said to me."

"How long have you lived here?" I asked in Spanish.

"Three months, but your friends should rally learn Spanish so they can communicate." She replied.

"So you're not going back?" I asked. 

"No, I've got my immigration status settled here and the kids are in school, we've left our lives back in Venezuela and are starting over here. Besides all my friends are here now and most of my family are on the way.Your friends should learn to speak Spanish." she insisted. 

I can't help but feel a little used as an American. I'm not sure how middle-class immigrants view the American dream when they are arriving to luxury waterfront condos and paying for expensive maternity care out of pocket. I can't wonder how invested anyone can be in a place when they "made it" somewhere else and just picked up and plopped down and started demanding that everyone learn their customs and language as the bourgeoisie are wont to do. Really, do you demand that a bunch of people in a park learn to speak to you, in a foreign tongue when you've only been here three months? 

Miami's "Walking" Neighborhoods

After my stint raising a kid in suburbia, I promised myself I would move back into "town" to a neighborhood where I could walk to stores, restaurants and parks.  A neighborhood that had a "street life" that went beyond retail, that included a pedestrian culture of strollers, dog walkers, bicyclists, joggers and the like.  A place near parks and landmarks.  Miami, until recently, has very few neighborhoods that fit that description. Thankfully that is quickly changing. There was a time where these neighborhoods were so few, that developers, investors and retailers were quick to overdevelop them and destroy their original character.

 

Coconut Grove: Perhaps Miami's original "walking" neighborhood.  Once known as a funky hang-out for hippies, bohemians and Bahamians the area was famous for its bars like the Hungry Sailor.  UM students would hang out and party. Then it developed into a nightlife scene and was overrun with shopping centers and hotels. The scene died with the arrival of South Beach and there are a lot of empty storefronts.

 

Still, it is one of the most beautiful neighborhoods in Miami. Located in a hardwood hammock along Miami's "silver bluff" oolitic limestone ridge, "the grove" gives that hot tropical vibe that is Miami. Shrouded in live oaks with lianas creeping up them you get the feeling of a village ensconced in jungle greenery.  The dense tree canopy filters the sun onto the sidewalks giving you respite in the shade on hot summer days. There are still great eateries and hangouts in the business district. A walk from Miami's City Hall along the Marina and Peacock part and the historical Barnacle state park makes for a pleasant afternoon stroll.

 

 

South Beach: There are very few places in the world where you can live, work and play within blocks of each other. South Beach is truly one of the best "walking" neighborhoods in the world. The efforts of the preservationists were rewarded and the Art Deco District showed that lovely old neighborhoods can pay off a lot more than tearing everything down and putting up maga-casinos. In the 80's South Miami Beach was slated for the same treatment as Atlantic City. A few visionaries saved the Art-Deco buildings from demolition and South Beach was born.

 

South Beach has done a good job of preserving the old character of the area, however you can see where developers are anxious to capitalize on it with huge retail and condo developments all around it. Some of it is good, some of it is schlock all of it increases an already crowded area with more people. But again, a long walk from South Point Park to Lincoln Road will put you through beautiful beaches, parks and people.  Art Deco buildings punctuate the landscape like so many pastel cupcakes.

 

 

Newer "Walking Neighborhoods" in Miami:

 

Wynwood:  Wynwood originally was a small Puerto Rican barrio and warehouse district. It is proof that art can change an entire neighborhood. Punctuated with galleries and restaurants, the area is crawling with hipsters and bohemians anxious to see the latest art offerings, murals and restaurants.

 

Mimo District: MiMo, for Miami Modern, district was a run down area north of downtown. Once known more for it's hookers than for it's architecture the area is close to being defined as "gentrified" other than "gentrifying".  Strong neighborhood associations in Belle Meade and Morningside have managed to keep most developers at bay by demanding height restrictions on new buildings.  (3 stories only)  Still the area is bustling with several top notch restaurants and a rapid increase in diverse retail especially apparel and furniture.

 

Design district/Midtown: Mostly an area known for retail, there a few quaint neighborhoods along the periphery.  Developers have recently demolished a lot in favor of uber-high-end retail like Prada  and a Wal-Mart. Why not? It's Miami.

 

Mary Brickell Village: Once a quaint collection of restaurants adjacent to Miami's financial center, a massive influx of high rise buildings and Argentinians give the area the feeling of a Buenos Aires with palm trees and tropical forests. Here the sing-song Spanish of the porteño is heard more often than the rapid fire Cuban. Still it's very much a newly developed shopping area catering to yuppies that have moved into the newly built high rise condos nearby.....good food and eye candy, but lacking in charm.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Get me the Hook-up NOW! NO FATS, NO FEMS, NO FARM ANIMALS.

So I've been fascinated by the recent backlash against gay social hook-up sites by young plus-size men and men of color.  They bemoan the rudeness of the medium, the racism, the looksist, ageist and demeaning nature of the actual profiles posted in hook-up sites such as GRNDR, SCRUFF and the like. Genuine anger and angst that the perfectly toned, perfectly muscled, perfectly coifed white boy on the hook-up site is not interested in having sex with anyone who is not perfectly muscled, coifed and white as well.

 

First, let's be honest.  You're on a hook up site because you're lazy.  Like buying an item on Amazon.com because you're too lazy to go to the store yourself and buy it.  You want just point and click and by the magic of the internet the man of your dreams is just going to show up at your door. The problem is that the supposed "man of your dreams" spends a lot of time in the gym trying to make himself look awesome to potential sex-mates. He eats healthy, maybe takes steroids, works out and works out and works out. He's aged 23 to 27 and looks awesome.

 

That leads me to my second point.  The biggest whiners have admitted they are "heavy", like Huff Post's Mathew Rodriguez admits to being a "queer Latino man of size." http://www.huffingtonpost.com/mathew-rodriguez/is-discrimination-on-grindr-killing-gay-sex_b_4558989.html?utm_hp_ref=gay-voices     They complain they can't get the gym bunny into bed.  I am sorry, but being overweight says a lot about you. Firstly, it shows you're not into being fit.....unlike the guy in the previous paragraph.  If you want to sleep with the hot men, hot men are usually in shape, you should be too. They know it takes work and dedication and the reward is clear: more sex, more options for mates, higher self-esteem, better job opportunities, get invited to better parties etc. etc. The research is there, trim, fit people get more of everything.   Know the competitive landscape you're in and adapt to it.  You can say "why can't they love me for my personality?"    You want to stay fat and have a hot boyfriend you can do two things: make a lot of money, or be the best at something amazing, like photography or sky diving or competitive math.  Because being a "winner" at something is totally sexy. However, it won't mean shit to the guy on GRNDR though.

 

So here's my third point and possibly a fourth one.  First, I am not sure if personal sexual preferences rise to the level of racism.  I mean yes, it sucks to be a man of color and see "whites only" on lots of personal profiles.  However, that guy who only sleeps with a narrow band of the human race, might be an HR manager that hires people of color every day, its just that his penis just might not subscribe to EEOC rules and regulations.  Studies are also showing that what is put on the internet is a version of our true selves....so if a guy won't sleep with an Asian/Black/Latino and actually writes it down  in his profile....it's highly possible he's a rude jerk.  Also there is no rule in social media hook-up sites requiring hot men to sleep with you just because you sent a "hi" to their profile.  I know in a perfect world male hotness should be as available as a tub of Ben&Jerry's Chunky Monkey ice cream. But it's not gurl, and really at the end of the day, empty sex with a hot man, is just about as satisfying.

 

Finally as any formerly single person interested in hooking-up or getting hitched will tell you....it hard to find the right mate.  Dating is a discouraging and time consuming business.  And you don't get an award just for "showing up". There are winners and losers, there is heartache, but there is joy and fun and friends to be made in the process.  However, thinking that the process will be as easy as sitting on your couch trolling hook-up sites for Mr. Right or Mr. Right Now, gurl.... you're going to be single and horny for quite awhile.

 

 

Miami at Sunrise

Venetian Causeway just before Sunrise

So for safety's sake I've been waking up early to ride my bike.  By early I mean between 5AM and 5:30.  The reason I ride so early is mostly to avoid car traffic, and be a considerate cyclist who feels that taking up a lane, alone, at 5AM should no big deal to the 4 other cars on the road at that time.  I try stick to main thoroughfares like Biscayne, Flagler, Collins because they're well lit and well paved. Also, if I should fall at 5:15 AM on a main thoroughfare, odds are that a good Samaritan might actually stop and help.  The few times I've fallen in the last 25 years of riding, someone has always stopped within seconds to inquire and help if needed. Yes, that is Miami too.
 

Miami is pretty cool between 5AM and 6:00 AM.  The streets are well lit, but empty, sometimes it's still too early for the kitchen and housekeeping staffs to arrive at the bus stops.  A few lone cyclists ride along these stretches sometimes well-lit with blinking lights front and back, sometimes they are pedaling away just using streetlights as their only illumination. Sometimes I ride along with those unlit guys sometimes because I feel I'm doing them a service with all my blinking lights on my helmet and bike.

 

The things you notice at 5AM:  Surprisingly, roads are in good shape.  Miami is not a city of pot-holes, however Miami Beach is.  Miami is very well lit, its buildings, neighborhoods, landscaping is all lit up to highlight it's fantastic architecture and greenery.  There are few cars on the road and in some cases the traffic lights blink yellow.

 



Legion Park, sunrise

Things start to change at 6AM though.  Traffic increases. The dog walkers emerge.  The bus stops start to fill up with the working class crowd...security, maids, cooks and construction.  The construction sites start to come to life at this time. Food trucks, and the hard hat men start to stream into the new buildings going up on the beach and downtown.  The smell of marijuana wafts from the areas where the construction workers park.

 

7AM is when the joggers and walkers emerge. Crack of dawn. By this time I hope to be riding my bike in Hollywood or Miami Beach along the paths that line the ocean.  The age of the walkers/joggers/runners vary by location, but trend younger as you head south towards Miami Beach, older (and more Canadian) in Hollywood and Dania Beach.   Collectively everyone stops riding, walking, whatever to stop and watch the sunrise. For about five minutes everyone who is awake stops watches the sun poke up in glorious reds, pinks, and blues from the ocean.  Regardless of age, or predicament in life, I think  they smile and welcome the day. I mean, watching the sunrise, on a beach, in January.....what's not to smile about?

 

Then a sprint home to beat the traffic.

  

South Pointe Park 

50 shades of middle class grey.....

So yesterday as I was driving up Biscayne Blvd and noticed a brand new Lamborghini that had apparently hit an immovable object, like a curb, or a curb and a lamppost.  Its lovely sheet metal torn back to reveal it's frame. Both wheels were bent at abnormal angles. All I could think was "shit must happen to rich folks too."   Sometimes it's hard to live in Miami, with all this out-of-town wealth floating around. While my household income puts in us in one of the higher tiers of earners, I realize it doesn't matter, because, in Miami's retail market, I'm always a second-class citizen.

 

I recently went to a luxury dealer here to purchase a vehicle.  Firstly, I did not want a run-of-the-mill sports sedan.  Secondly, I actually have to finance or lease the vehicle. Thirdly, I did not want a "50 shades of grey" car.  When I told the salesmen this I could see the consternation on his face.  You want to finance? You want to negotiate? You want color?  Apparently the wealthy don't finance, don't negotiate and pay cash. If you have money, the high end models come in a rainbow of colors.  There wasn't any room to "negotiate" on a car that cost just $50K, I was told I could have the grey run-of-the-mill luxury vehicle or nothing at all.

 

In fact, grey, black and white were the only cars they had in stock, on 3 floors of a parking lot in Mid-town. The only cars that came in colors were the super expensive ones, or the "base" models.  Everyone else can have white, black or grey. Silver was an option too.  This is where my frustration kicks in. I don't want a grey car. I don't want something that everyone else drives. Isn't the whole point of having a status symbol is to be different?  Why do I have to "go down market" for a cute car, pants, shirt that has a bit of color in it?  Why do I have to go upmarket for nice car, pants, shirt, or shoe that has some panache?  In Miami it's Target or Nordstrom's and everything else in-between is grey. Macy's, Banana Republic are overwhelmingly grey and beige. 

 

Retailers must think if  you're poor...you should have bright colors...from Kia, Fiat, to Target, everything is a happy color because shit, it's hard enough being broke you should be allowed some color in your life.  Retailers must also think if you're rich...well, you deserve it don't you? I mean you fleeced your countrymen back home and since you can't flaunt all that wealth back there, why not do it in Miami, your plan B exit strategy. 

 

So where does it leave Miami's local middle class? In shades of grey and beige....and even don't think about financing.....you, you, average middle class person!

Grant me the Grace

Sunday, I sat through a presentation by Jeff Chu, author of Does Jesus Really Love Me?: A Gay Christian's Pilgrimage in Search of God in America.  He had come to at the behest of my church: Coral Gables Congregational as part of our ongoing dialogue exploring and better understanding our faith.  He was a journalist for Time and Fast Company and his book was recommended by the New York Times Book Review.

His story is a common tale of overachieving boy born of fundamentalist parents realizing he's gay and then trying to reconcile the subsequent conflicts between him, faith and his parents after he fully acknowledges his homosexuality. In classic millennial generation style, he, being exceptional, finds the grace to forgive those who hurt him and realize that they are hurting him out of "love." Now on some level he's right. A good Christian should "turn the other cheek" and offer an unconditional surrender to love and forgiveness.

However, Mr. Chu takes it to another level. He decides "as an objective journalist" - (his quote on Sunday), to spend time with the followers of the Westboro Baptist Church of the "God Hates Fags" fame.  Here is my first critique: how exactly is a personal pilgrimage objective journalism?  He proceeds to describe them as "really nice people" who do what they do "out of love". Who he broke bread with, and made "funny jokes about cool-aid."  Who were just like you and me in their day to day lives.  He mentioned casually later on in his presentation that he had never met anyone who's family funeral was marred by one of their protests.

So I'm going to say this to Mr. Chu: I have been to two funerals where they have appeared. Prior to the tactic of going to Military funerals, they would scour the obituaries for men who had died of AIDS and show up there.  Grieving for a loved one is probably the hardest thing anyone has to go through. Especially someone young who left too soon. Then at that moment, that sacred moment, a band of hatemongers have attached themselves to the memory, your memory, of that person....and hopefully you can forget, that when you were at your weakest, somebody pulled an emotional sucker punch on you. So Jeff Chu asks us to find the Grace, to forgive them for what they've done to your family, friends and community because they're just "regular folks who eat cereal in the morning".

Sadly, Mr. Chu has touched evil and didn't see it for what it was. As a gay man I have encountered evil.  It always comes in the guise of "regular folks". Did he think the Nazis had horns? Did he think that the KKK didn't go to church on Sunday and love their children too? Yes, as Christians we have the duty of Grace, but don't we have a duty to call out evil when we see it?  What Westboro does is violence of the worst kind, do we look inside ourselves and say "oh well, they're just "regular folks" who are misguided, let's just forgive and move on. "

Grace, forgiveness, comes very hard to me and to my family.    It's something that forces me to dig deep and try not to hurt someone physically. (I am seeing a therapist about anger management) To tell me that someone who goes up to a grieving mother and tells her that her child will burn in  hell, at that child's funeral, is certainly not deserving of God's grace regardless of what they had for breakfast that morning.

Fred Phelps, the founder of this Church died today, March 20th, 2014.....Grant me the grace. 

SMART Ride for AIDS, an experience....

So earlier this year I did my first long distance ride from Miami to Key Largo, FL.  It was for Multiple Sclerosis. You can read about it in a previous blog post called "On Your Left" http://miamiafter40.blogspot.com/search?q=on+your+left done back in April.  Since April I believe I have evolved as a cyclist.  I retired my very sweet, made in America Cannondale hybrid....they were still made here when I bought it. Now they're made in China. I replaced it with a beautiful Italian Bianchi (well, designed in Italy, but made in China). I've become part of the "Lycra" crowd, and I'd like to think on good days, it's a look I can pull off.  I'm not getting those "look away" stares that women in cameltoe get.

 

In keeping with this year's "bike for terminal illness" theme I decided to ride my first AIDS ride. I mean if you can't ride for a plague, why ride at all?  Each one of these Tour du Diseases require two aspects: First, you must raise funds to ride.  Second you must train. 

 

Being a professional fundraiser the money part was easier.  For the AIDS ride I simply pimped out my mad Haiku skills and promised anyone who donated any amount would get a Haiku. In no time I scribed 20 Haikus and then I knew the ride was on. For more about my Haikus see http://miamiafter40.blogspot.com/2011/12/haikupalooza-project.html.  Almost everyone was happy with their Haikus, except Alex, which hurt because I put a lot of thought into the 17 syllables that I feel define him.   When I gave Haikus freely, I was never criticized, now that I'm asking them to pay for them, everyone's a critic. However, the Haikus are not refundable.

 

Training, ugh. I was determined that I would be prepared for this ride. I would finish and I would not suffer inordinately. I would ride at a relaxed pace and I would not be at the end of the ride, the least bit in doubt of whether I could finish. I am proud to say that four months of training paid off. Despite one road rage incident (on my part) it want off flawlessly. No flats and no fats when I finished the ride on Saturday.

 

Finally: the ride. I can't say too much about the ride. I have ridden and driven these roads many times before. I was by myself for almost all of the ride so indulged in Conch Republic nostalgia.  Each leg had a meaning, Card Sound Road brought memories of countless Carl Hiassen books. Key Largo reminded me of when I lived there doing HIV tests for people under a big mango tree in a park. Islamorada brought back memories of sneaking out of class at FIU and going to Tiki Bar for rum-runners. Leyton: speed trap. Big Pine Key means Key Deer and speeding tickets.  I had seriously over-trained for this ride and spent most of the two days by myself riding furiously with a strong tailwind. Both days I arrived before the bulk of the group did.

 

Lessons learned: well, it was hard to get all maudlin about the whole AIDS/HIV thing. I mean as a gay man it's been around since before I was sexually active. I've lost friends and family and mourned them and I wasn't really feeling inclined to mourn them again.   I felt that I did a very small part, again, to address an issue that we all thought would be gone by now.  I had fun, I proved I could do something extraordinary, I can't wait to do it again.

 

 

 

 

Stroke, Focus, Kick, Focus, Repeat

Recently, I had a near death experience. A real one, the kind where you see death staring at you in the face and you dig down into your soul and make an important decision about life....which is to just live it.  Its that conscious decision to listen to your lizard brain and say, yeah let's keep going.

I had been swimming in the ocean and I had a sudden bout of hypoglycemia. Low blood sugar usually comes on very quickly and being 200 yards from shore rapidly seemed like two miles. All of a sudden each stroke became harder and harder, each kick felt like I was dragging a lead weight behind me. A sudden chill of fear went down my body and the adrenaline boost proceeded to burn up the  little bit of energy left in my body. Focus....stroke...focus...kick...focus....stroke....do you want this? You could just settle down into the warm turquoise Atlantic and float away. Focus. ...stroke...focus....kick..

..focus....stroke...focus....kick.

Obviously, I made it back to shore and found some energy bars in my bag.  I was jarred for quite awhile. I sat quietly wondering about life. I have a wonderful one...great husband, friends, good job, nice house....everything I ever dreamed of and asked for. Now would be a good time to go...when things are really great. 

But the one thing I have learned since I was given a terminal diagnosis at 20 and told I had less than three years to live, is that you do just that: you live. 25 years later here I am, and life just keeps getting better.  When things get hard, dangerous or threatening: focus, stroke and kick till you get to shore.

Living in Community

Once I told a new acquaintance that I went to church. He was generally surprised that I was a "believer" and that I chose to live "in community" with faith.  I'm not sure if I understood his meaning or if that was what he meant to say, but I loved sound of living "in community."  

 

Another friend made a joke about a "whore in church" which may or not have been directed at me. However I was fine with that analogy too....at least I was going there and enjoying myself and whatever, it's all about forgiveness right?

 

Outside of our families and workplaces there are fewer and fewer opportunities to live "in community". Inside of families and our places of work we carry the burden of responsibility, expectations and outcomes.  Very few groups in our American landscape offer a simple refuge free of burdens and expectation.  All you need a tiny, infinitesimal bit of faith.  It can be clouded with scientific certainty, loss of belief in god and fellow man and sealed with need to understand the world as it is, free of miracles, mystery and the paranormal. In fact you don't even need that tiny bit faith to go there.

 

Recently a friend and fellow churchgoer passed away.   He died "in community".  What that meant is that a group of relative strangers reached out collectively to embrace him, his partner and family with love and caring.  With hugs and whatever support his loved ones needed to grieve, heal and move forward.

 

I know there are a lot of people who thought they lived "in community" and that community hurt them. So they turned their backs on all communities of faith. They cut themselves off from the potential of love, friendship and support. A therapist friend recently posted how many of his young clients feel disconnected despite all their digital connectivity. A text is not a substitute for a hug. A "like" on Facebook is not the same as a smile when you see a friend for lunch. However sitting snugly in a pew with people that may not know your name, but will rise up and hug you in times of trouble is reassuring indeed, even if you sleep through the most of the sermons.

 

When I go to my church, Coral Gables Congregational United Church of Christ, I feel loved.  Not in a creepy, fake or overbearing way, but in a way that says we're here for you when you need us, and someday you will need us.  A collective hug that will comfort you when times are hard, a large group of people "in community" who are happy to share the burden of caring for one member, though a rough patch.  All they ask is that I show up once in awhile and believe....just a little tiny bit...or not.

 

The Last Gay Summer

It's over, or almost over....the last official "gay" summer.  Throughout the community there is a collective sense of ennui, that all things gay are passé. Especially among the younger set.  2013 the last gasp of the mega-gay summer events.  From now on the closest thing to a circuit party will be hanging with spring breakers while hooking up on GRINDR and Scruff. I went to a couple of gay events this summer in Provincetown and Key West and in both cases the energy just didn't seem to be there.

 

Every conversation seemed to be the same: "how long have you been together?"

 

Answer: "Two years".

 

Reply:  aghast: "and you're not married yet?

 

OR

 

"How long have you been married?"

 

Answer"four years."

 

Reply: "And you still don't have kids?, you're not getting any younger you know."

 

Gays, being the last group of trendsetters, have run headlong, like lemmings, into conformity. The last vestiges of a culture built on shame and sexual rebellion will devolve into sad middle-aged swingers parties in a cul-de-sac near you.

 

Already gay ghettoes are looking older, more upscale as fewer young gays go there for community. Also gay ghettoes tended to be cheap and fun....there's nothing cheap about a $14 martini in Chelsea or South Beach. Key West, that outpost of non-conformity, caters to cruise ships. Drag shows are nothing but cabaret for straight people and three more gay guesthouses have converted to "all are welcome" resorts.

 

Equality: who knew it would make us boring.

 

 

 

Gay Gold Diggers....

Come and spend some time with me.

In the last weeks the term "gold digger" has come up in more than one casual conversation with different friends. Wikipedia defines it as a greedy person (stereotypically a woman) who only dates (and subsequently marries) wealthy partners with the (typically) sole intention of being a beneficiary of said wealth.  However, prior to last month, the term really had little currency in the gay community because you couldn't exactly "put a ring on it" so to speak. So any gold dug from the pockets of a gay person was probably given freely and more likely an exchange of goods and services, than say, the extortion of wealth caused by divorce. The only gay equivalent I could think of would be that of a "size queen".  The term size queen is slang for a gay or bisexual man who prefers his partners to be extremely well endowed. Now if that is not a form of greed I don't know what is. 

 

But I really have trouble with the term gold digger as it relays to same sex couples...and not just because of its pejorative connotation. Firstly, I might be considered a gold-digger, or my husband might. When we met in our late 20's I was earning three times his salary, now in our mid 40's he makes three times mine. At some point I became a "gold digger" especially since I took time off from my career to raise our son. Despite my solidly upper middle-class salary, it's very unlikely with my B.A. and general lack of professional motivation that I'll ever make as much as my workaholic husband who has a degree in Nuclear Chemical Engineering. We're fine with that. He's fine if I don't work at all...although I do. As I said to a friend the other day: "If I wanted to focus on my career, I would have stayed single."

 

If you're rich I'm single.....

So why is it when a guy who makes enough money to live on (whatever that may be) is not worthy of a someone making a very good living. As a member of the upper-middle class (through marriage and blood only) I tend to associate myself with other members of the bourgeoisie. My single lawyer and doctor friends bemoan the fact that they can't find "professional guys" who "make as much as I do." .  So don't. What's wrong with a guy who makes no money and makes you and your relationship a career? Somebody who supports you  in your personal and professional life? Someone like a wife? I have a friend who easily makes $400,000 a year and was concerned that his live-in boyfriend was unemployed. Who cares? He was concerned about appearances, that he was being taken advantage of. If his live-in had been a woman I doubt he would have had the same concerns.

 

This hand-wringing over what someone makes, as opposed to who a person is, is silly.  Really, if you're making six figures and your boyfriend is making $20K is your lifestyle going to suffer? Wouldn't it be nice to come home to someone who is not stressed about work, but worried that your dinner isn't ready on time? This instant labeling of "gold-digger" because you found someone who fits into your lifestyle.  Now I'm not saying there aren't real "gold-diggers" out there, because there are greedy people. However, gold diggers are not any different than size queens......and trust me you can always work harder, there's not much you can do about a small penis.

 

I'm not a racist....well....Okay....no. Maybe yes.

Okay, it's Thursday and people I know want my opinion on the Trayvon Martin case.  On the case itself I have small opinion. Clearly an underfunded and under-motivated prosecutor put on a pro-forma case against a slick and talented (well paid) defense.   A prosecution that couldn't even get a man or a person of color on the jury. A bunch of white housewives from Central Florida.....really, and someone was surprised by the verdict?

 



That being said, there were some things that I found interesting in America's continuing quest to alleviate past racial wrongs and that each convulsion brings about new and interesting surprises. In each case it involves an African-American male pitted against police, society or in Trayvon's case: armed neighborhood watch volunteer. From McDuffy, to Rodney King to OJ Simpson each decade returns us to that excruciating self examination of self and society asking ourselves "am I a racist.?" 

 

Choo shoe? Let's do lunch.

Well, of course we are silly. Each one of us, big old racists, and elitists and classists and bigots. Who doesn't judge people at first glance?  I personally use shoes as a measure of a man or woman, but that is just my shorthand for character. Everyone uses different metrics. I mean at least Paula Deen "came out" about her racism and it didn't do her a damn bit of good. Don't even get me started about fat people.

 

So in this latest round of high stakes judicial proceedings this is what I found:

 

Firstly, the African American community flexed some serious political muscle. I mean seriously, they did.  Community pressure forced the City of Sanford to fire the Police Chief.  Now, you might think this is no big deal, but in fact it is. An important official was relieved of duty in short order. That is no small thing.  Secondly, they pressured the city to reopen the case and the State to prosecute. The  prosecution might have been lame, but still it was a step.

 

Bernadine: The worst thing is that he made me move out here where my children are in school with only one other black kid so they won't be improperly influenced.

Secondly, not since the movie "Waiting to Exhale" and the Clarence Thomas confirmation hearings have middle-class blacks been in the spotlight.  This happened in a middle class community, with middle class people. People with connections inside New York Times to shame the local community. Educated people who live in gated communities called Twin Lakes. I mean not even Desperate Housewives was in a gated community.

 

 

Perhaps most interesting is the liberal use of the "N" word(Rush Limbaugh) by white people. Just a general "let your hair down" and admit personal racism by calling it "common sense" according Kathleen Parker and "black kids in the ghetto don't equate the future beyond next week, unlike white kids." according to Mike Barnacle.  Then a general attack on any black person of consequence on TV such as Jesse Jackson, Al Sharpton and Soledad O'Brian as "racists" because they side with blacks. Maybe because they are black? Just sayin'.

 

Finally, no riots. Sigh, I had already picked out a great store to loot some John Varvatos chukkas from. No really, hurray, no riots. Riots are the sign of hopelessness, desperation. Clearly when teenagers wearing hoodies are killed in gated communities hopelessness and desperation are a difficult argument to make. (What teen, what adult male,  doesn't own a hoodie? I'm gay and I own two.) 

 

So two steps forward, one step back African Americans and all of us Americans.  These painful events by two individuals reflect on all of us. I can't say justice was done, but I'd like to think hopefully that someday it will.

 

                                                                                                                       

 

 

 

 

Climate-Change Journalists Absolutely Giddy About Miami's Destruction. (and just about everyone else)

Please pick me up a cafecito while you're there....

Rolling Stone Magazine's recent article, Goodbye Miami by Jeff Godell was positively gleeful about Miami's inundation due to global warming.  "an American Atlantis", "a great future dive spot" were some of the kinder words he used in the article. He also quoted a "local politician" who told him that "God promised no more floods, read the story of Noah." http://www.rollingstone.com/politics/news/why-the-city-of-miami-is-doomed-to-drown-20130620 I doubt seriously that a City of Miami or Miami-Dade County commissioner would quote scripture so I guess he spoke to someone in Medley or Homestead. His article, albeit science fiction presents Miami's inundation as a fait acompli.

 

Clearly, Miami has no shortage of haters. Interesting timing of the article being released just after our NBA Championship win, I would not be surprised if the author was from Cleveland or San Antonio. I wouldn't be surprised if Cleveland was pumping extra carbon emissions into the atmosphere specifically to inundate Miami. As usual the comments section was filled with unrequited hate from people who once lived here. Consistently Miami is held up as an example of a "future Atlantis" because of rising seas.

 

What I don't understand, if for example, the seas rise 10, 15, or 100 feet, they never use any other city "at risk" for inundation. I mean San Diego, Long Beach, New York, Washington DC, London, Nagoya, Sydney, Dubai, Wellington, Athens to a greater or lesser degree will be affected. However, I never feel the schadenfreude in global warming articles unless they include Miami. One article suggested Mumbai would have a similar fate, but felt really bad for the poor people there. No such compassion was shared for one of the poorest, albeit fabulous, cities in the U.S.

Yeah, and we're still here, better than ever!

 

As a native Miamian I have experienced my share of disasters both natural and man-made, including Andrew and the Overtown riots. I have watched time and time again when the rest of America and world have written off the Magic City. A, gleeful hope that a city dominated and built by a successful prosperous Hispanic middle class will somehow go away. Miami is glamorous, Miami is beautiful, warm and sexy. It is a global center of trade, fashion, culture and finance. Miami is the stick in the eye to all those people who think anything touched by the Latino community is second-rate, ugly, and not worthy of attention.

 

Whether we are an underwater Atlantis or the great regional capital that Atlantis was prior to its disappearance, you can look around. Our city is absolutely gorgeous. Brickell, Biscayne, Venetian Causeway. Our new Museums, opera houses, concert halls show that our city is finally realizing its fantastic potential in a way that's unapologetic and grand.  We are not a town that nods to New York or LA for it's identity. We are not going to just sit by and let this wonderful town, this Magic City, wash away like some sand castle. If we do, we'll be in the company of most of the great coastal cities of the world.

 

 

 

Gays Abuzz...What a Difference A Week Makes... A $100 Difference!

So what was the hot topic at all the Fourth of July pool parties hosted by the homosexuals this weekend? Well, marriage of course. But not in the way you would think.  Being a blog about a "man of a certain age", men of a certain age were discussing the most exciting topic of all......financial benefits.

 

Yes, benefits. Not, where are you planning to get married, not choosing wedding planners or deciding on which state to get married. No, most of these men (and women)are partnered and at some point or another took a jaunt to New York, California or Iowa to get married in the last 10 years. Their immediate joy was that they are no longer taxed for extending insurance benefits to their spouses, which is actually $100 month added to our family budget. Yes, the Supreme Court's decision last week added $100 more dollars to my hubby's paycheck...this week. Who would of thought that a decision made last week would actually increase our household income by $1200 a year? That's several pairs of shoes over the course of a decade.....hmmmm.

 

Marriage = Mo' Money = Mo' Shoes

The excitement of extending social security survivor benefits, fewer inheritance taxes, common property, joint tax returns, immigration changes and the plethora of protections and benefits that are offered to married couples by the federal government are now extended to us as well, we think. Ah, bet there is the rub....we think. 

 

 The Supreme Court was clear that the states could decide to choose about marriage....but the Federal Government is already recognizing immigration status for LGBT Floridians with valid marriages from other states.  The logical conclusion would be if my marriage is recognized in a Federal Court (Immigration is Federal) then it should be the case for Social Security and the IRS.

That being said, the myriad of benefits extended to couples by the State of Florida will continue to be denied, most of them related to transfers of real estate, inheritance of real estate, hospital visitation, and certain types of adoptions are still  just out of reach for the LGBT community. Lawsuits are being filed, petitions are being signed and soon Gays and Lesbian couples will work for a more perfect union, both as a country and as married couples.

 

God Bless America!

 

 

Marriage Equality, I Am Boring At Last.

The Supreme Court's rulings today were momentous, stupendous, fantastic. 

 

When I was a little gay boy there was nobody like me. Not on TV, not in magazines, nowhere.  There were whispers of fairies and faggots directed at boys "who didn't fit in."   At first I was told I walked funny, so I stopped walking funny.  Then I was told I was a "pretty boy" so I stopped fussing with my appearance. I was told I had a "funny laugh" so I started laughing with my mouth closed.

 

However, my naturally gregarious nature prevented me from turning invisible. But a strong wall of faux-masculinity, insults and eye-rolling got me through my teenage years relatively unscathed in regards to my homosexuality. At 19 I was arrested in a raid of a gay bar. The police gave me two options: pay a $1000 fine or have my name printed in the newspaper as a homosexual. I refused to pay the fine and hired a lawyer instead.

 

years later I fell in love with a single dad with a five year old son. Ah the scandal of two men raising a child! "A child needs the love only a mother can provide." was whispered in my ear more than once.

 

So here I am at 45 and I've gone from a secret gay, to sexual outlaw, to pioneering "gay dad", to über-gay Miamian. Then suddenly I'm legally married in 12 of the United States. The last part occurring between 9:59AM and 10:00AM on June 26th 2013. Talk about going from interesting to boring in the time it takes to figure out a Supreme Court decision.  The long fight to be boring. My husband and I have worked on numerous campaigns, suffered defeats, have given time and money in the fight to be boring.  The fight to be mundane, to protect our property, to protect our son, to protect ourselves.

 

To have a boring existence where you don't have to explain to a nurse who you are in relation to the patient. To live in an existence where your property can't be taken away from you by the government or greedy relatives should you or your spouse die or become incapacitated.

 

To live in a boring world where you know your child won't be taunted, teased or sidelined because he has two dads.

.

Safe is boring, Certainty is boring. Longevity is boring. Legal commitment is boring. Having the same rights and responsibilities as everyone else is boring. I want to be boring. I want that for me and for Florida and all people who want to be treated equally.

 

Now I realize there is a lot of work left to do. Yet words such as "elevated" and "dignity of individuals" and "equality" all used by the Supreme Court of the United States in reference to lesbians, gays and their children, makes me glad to be part of that long fight to be boring.

 

All in all the battle for boring has been exciting. I am looking forward to being boring just like everyone else.

Dame la Gasolina.....(Give me the Gasoline) A local's Guide to Miami's coolest gas stations.

A couple of years ago I was with my hubby heading to a party in the area south west of Little Havana, to locals it's called "La Souwesera." Needing to pick up some wine I remembered there was a Citgo nearby with a good wine selection. I hadn't been there in years. As we pulled up we noticed a bevy of expensive cars pumping gas and filling the parking lot. It was your typical Miami thing, Aston Martins, Rolls, Beemers, etc. I thought, well this is odd but they need to get gas too. 

Just another gas station, right?

In the back of the gas station, where the wine used to be was a small, and very chic tapas place called "El Carajo". There happened to be a wine tasting that night and all the Miami wine cognoscenti were there for the annual Beaujolais Nouveau tasting. It was such a weird juxtaposition. in front there were twinkies, lotto tickets, and your typical 7-11 fare, but just few feet more and you were in a chic wine tasting with candlelit tables and the best tapas in Miami. I mean, they could have added a car wash if they wanted more business, but a fancy tapas place? Today, the 7-11 decor is mostly gone, but you can still buy lotto tickets and gas, now it's considerably upscale, gone are the rows of chips and candies which are now replaced with great wines from around the world. 

Honey, don't forget to play lotto and get a slushy for dessert. 

My next favorite gas station is Dade Corners.  Since I was a little boy my dad loved to take us out to Shark Valley to see the gators.  Dade corners is on the corner of Crome Avenue and U.S. 41/8th Street/Tamiami Trail.  Long the hangout of the Harley-Davidson set, on any given day you can see all types there. From truckers to Honda Goldwingers.  It's your classic Florida tourist station. Here you can imagine some hapless tourist from the 50's driving up to fill up the old DeSoto. Inside you can purchase roadmaps, assorted Floridiana, and it even once had the cool machine that if you put in a dollar it would pour hot green plastic in a mold in the shape of a gator.  Now it is a gathering place where yuppie Harley riders mix in with Hell's Angels on the poker runs to the keys. Drop in the lost tourists, ATV riders, cyclists and you get a great feel for all the "outdoorsy" types you get in Miami-Dade County. On a side note: a friend noted that it has several unique octane blends that are recommended for European sports sedans which apparently are only found there. 

In "up and coming" MiMo district, aka Miami's Upper East Side there is the Europa Cafe.  Built from scratch the Europa Cafe is "at the curve" on Biscayne Blvd. Outside it's a gussied up Chevron, gas pumps and a great hand wash. Inside it's a chic and modern décor with plasma TVs, comfortable cowhide chairs and an area that can been closed off with a fabulous chain link curtain.  I have had several business meetings there. It comes across more as a first class lounge than a gas station.  The food is good and the coffee is strong. 

g

My next favorite station is the Art Deco station on Coral Way.  Not because it has a "surprise" on the inside. It's shows us that there was a time when things were built not just to be functional, but beautiful.  That something as mundane as a gas station could have flair and whimsy.  I know preservationists have battled hard to keep this gem from the wrecking ball, but honestly, isn't it worth it? 

Happy Summer Driving Folks! Add your own suggestions for Miami's coolest gas stations.

El Carajo International Tapas and Wines

2465 SW 17th Ave  Miami, FL 33145

http://www.el-carajo.com/

Europa Car Wash and Cafe

6075 Biscayne Blvd. Miami, FL 33137

http://www.europainmiami.com/

Dade Corners Travel Center,

 17696 SW Eighth St. (corner of Krome Avenue andTamiami Trail).

Southland Super Service Station
1700 Coral Way, Miami, FL