King Mango Strut

Reason for Impeachment? 

The weather has been off and on rainy, mostly on, for the past week, but that didn't stop the 38th Annual King Mango Strut from strutting in Coconut Grove. An impertinent parade started when a kazoo band organizer was not allowed to participate in the glorious Orange Bowl Parade, it includes anyone who wants to march, mostly political satire, local and national.

One year, a colleague of Grant received a citation for having too many yard sales at his Coconut Grove home. Incensed, he printed t-shirts for his friends to strut as the Yard Sale Police, blowing whistles and issuing tickets to parade watchers. We brought our German Shepard Mitzi who loved the attention.

This year's theme, Just Impeachy Keen, continued the tradition, however the satire was fairly mild. I fear the hippies of Coconut Grove and their creativity and dislike of government are disappearing. The effects of years of pot use are coming home.

Another Bullet Train Victim 

Several groups referenced the $120,000 banana duct taped to the wall at Art Basel, but it's hard to parody an ironic subject. The Marching Freds were down to 3 participants. I liked the Fake Nudes walking in t-shirts imprinted with naked torsos. Groups (covens?) of witches hunted Trump, and bees of all shapes and size buzzed around a flatbed with a band playing "Let it Be". Another band played fairly clever lyrics describing climate change and bad tides rising to Credence Clearwater Revival's "Bad Moon Rising".

And The Winners Are...

Clara now can add winning Little Miss (or Mister) Mango Strut to her list of accomplishments, as can every other kid who showed up in time to get a crown and climb on the float. Learning to pad their resumes early.

Many years ago after attending a Strut, we were walking back to our car, a 9-passenger Suburban. Grant, with his long gray hair flowing, followed by me and our 3 young children, my sister and her 2 little ones, and a female friend, was asked if we had been part of the parade. I said, "Yes, we are the Polygamist Society of South Florida". And so we became it. In name only, with much talk, little action, about designing a flag. We went to other Struts, Orange Bowl Parades, Starlight Musicals, rarely with other husbands attending, but Grant always a sport.

Happy 4th of July

Decorated For the Fourth  

While the rest of the nation perseverates whether the parade in D.C. should have tanks or not, Key B stuck with decorated golf carts, water fights, and near-heat-stroke marching bands. If  we are here next year, we will be armed with water guns. By the end of the parade, no one was immune from being soaked, which felt great in the soaring temps.

Beginning of the Water Fights  

Fireworks at the Beach  

Our older daughter drove down from Orlando, arriving in time for fireworks. Rather than dealing with traffic like most of the country, we walked 3 blocks to the beach, set down our chairs and towels, and watched the show. A joy of living on this little island.

She is here to retrieve our granddaughter Clara who has been visiting for 2 weeks and going to Marine Biology Camp, then Summer by the Sea. With Bill Baggs State Park at one end of the island and Crandon Park at the other; the Seaquarium, University of Miami's marine school and NOAA's lab on Virginia Key; and Bear Cut in between, this is the perfect place. The campers fished in the ocean; seined in the bay; studied sea turtle nests; paddle boarded, kayaked, and snorkeled; tagged fish; and learned about sea slugs in the lab.

The first week, Clara and I walked over to the Key B Community Center where her camp met. She was able to walk home on her own. What a luxury to have a safe place to live. Her goal is for me to allow her to walk to the grocery store by herself. Maybe next visit. The second week, we rode our bikes the 2.3 miles to and from the nature center. I was feeling very virtuous, especially since another parent sat in her running car with the AC on while we waited for the campers at the end of the first day. Who sends their kid to nature camp then wastes gas like that? Guess I needed to test "pride goeth before a fall", because the next day on the way to camp, Clara's tire blew out a valve stem.

Naturally we were halfway there. Go back, and get the car? Walk on to camp? The first one was the right answer. I chose the second. Clara pushed her bike, and I pushed mine. She tried riding my bike (seat too high, no tools to lower). We traded bikes to push. We trudged on. Perhaps I should have locked both bikes to a palm tree and just walked to the camp. At the time, it seemed easier to push bikes than to carry Clara's camp gear.

Eventually we made it, 15 minutes late, while all the campers and the counselors waited. All we could do was apologize.