Sync'd

The Universe is speaking to us. Stories and lessons about how I am learning to listen.

"The sea is the symbol of the collective unconscious, because unfathomed depths lie concealed beneath its reflecting surface. The sea is a favorite place for the birth of visions..."

Carl Jung

Beached

In 1989 during a psychic read with Sonia Choquette she predicted, “you will buy a property in the South.” At 26-years old and still struggling to pay my rent, this seemed like a remote possibility. The regional characterization of “the South” sent my imagination to Tennessee, Louisiana or the Carolinas. Then she doubled down, “it won’t be anything special to anyone else, but this place will bring you great joy.” Six years later, almost to the day, it would become another uncanny insight revealing one of the unexpected truths of my life.

In February of 1995 I cajoled a close friend to join me on a vacation to Miami Beach. He was in the throes of winter blues very common in snowbound northern cities. From November to late April an unending chill runs through everything in our lives. The bitter cold is amplified by eight scarce hours of daylight rarely warming the frozen landscape. He expressed a concern that “beach vacations are often boring.” Committing to bring my tennis racquet in case monotony set in, he reluctantly booked a ticket to join me and another friend for part of our ten-day trip.

On the third sunny and 85-degree day, we were gloating over the record low temperatures, wind chills and an approaching snowstorm. Adjusting our beach chairs to maximize the warm rays of the sun with Madonna tunes bumping in the background from an adjacent boom box, Joe turned to me and said, “this is paradise … I want to look at real estate.”

It was the time before cell phones and the internet, so an acquaintance from Bloomington, Illinois, who owned a property at the beach, recommended a young realtor named Brett. Contacting him from a phone booth (remember those?) and we set a meeting time for the following morning.

For those who have been to South Miami Beach in the past 20 years, the restaurants, shopping, glitzy hotels and stunning pedestrian malls – did not exist when we ventured there almost 30-years ago. We met the realtor at an office building on what is now the spectacular Lincoln Road. In 1995, it was a shuttered and dilapidated stretch of almost worthless real estate. There were no palm trees, decorative foliage and all the fountains were dry in crumbling disrepair. Walgreens and a Dress Barn were the only open retail stores that I remember.

Brett, the realtor, was preppy, perky and talkative with busy hands that were used to accentuate the nouns in every one of his sentences. Like a marionette, his tiny and perfectly manicured mitts rarely dipped beneath his shoulders. But he was clearly an expert on the real estate market at the beach and was insistent that everything was, pulling his open palms and lifting them to the sky, “going … up … up … up” assuring Joe that this would be an excellent investment.

We looked at six units and as we moved through each, Brett took-on the demeanor of a Price is Right merchandise model using mime-like dramatic gestures to showcase the properties. His sweeping arms, as if conducting an orchestra, accentuated the flow of each apartment, the amenities or unique features - all perfectly synchronized with dramatically vocalized descriptions. Notice the coconuts hanging just outside the kitchen window. Isn’t this place absolutely flawless … and can you believe these people are straight … but they’re South American … and it’s a whole different thing down there baby!

My friend decided to purchase a studio at Meridian and 9^th Street, right in the heart of the iconic South Beach district. It was a simple two-story building with 24-units and just six blocks from the beach. The small complex was designed with 12-units in two separate, but identical, box structures facing each other to create an interior patio filled with palm trees and over-powering Floridian greenery. The condo was a simple, sun filled and welcoming abode that launched an era of more than 1,000+ days at the beach over the next 25 years.

Meridian Street extends for 12 blocks and is lined with beautiful and lush Calophyllum trees, also known as Alexandrian Laurels. It is a slow growing medium-sized tree that is ornamental and found in a wide range of tropical countries. Over the decades their growth has created a beautiful canopy over the street providing a tunnel of greenery and uniquely shaded walkways in the sundrenched city.

The Alexandrian Laurels have gnarled trunks, intricately twisted limbs and massive roots that have survived decades of monsoon-like summer rains and hurricanes, often protruding above the ground like giant arteries reaching deep beneath the surface for sustenance. Each tree seems to have its own personality providing an added dimension of life and lore to the picturesque setting.

In other countries the Laurels are a practical resource often used as a source of food, medicine and providing an exotic oil harvested from their seeds. The trees emit an enticing fragrance that engulfs the entire street, especially when the humidity begins to rise on warm days. The aroma has a sweet, yet exotic, mustiness permeating the heavy moist air. It’s common during sunset for the ocean or the bay to stir a breeze spreading the fragrance across the entire narrow 12-block footprint of South Miami Beach. One whiff and I’m transported to the many wonderful days spent wandering the art deco blocks.

My part time residency began the day my friend wrote the required acquisition deposit. That year I started a state-based government relations consulting business and was able to work remotely for significant blocks of time. He generously offered the condo for several multiple week stints every winter. To support the furnishing of the beach pad, my trips would include a few purchases of the necessities. One day walking home from the beach a man was sitting in the courtyard of an apartment building selling everything he owned. I was able to purchase a living room set of blockish walnut futon furniture for $75.00. To seal the deal, he offered to haul the furniture to the condo. I didn’t realize it would be on the top of his Country Squire Station Wagon. It’s the kind of proletariat purchase that wouldn’t be possible today in the renovated, manicured and stylish world of South Miami Beach.

Eventually I purchased my own place in 2005 and learned there’s a restful resonance in returning to the same place again and again. A peaceful stillness settles in knowing where you want to go and exactly what you want to do. Most of my 1,000+ days were filled with simple, and what some might think of as a pedestrian, routine. Waking up at around 8 a.m., I walked to Starbucks for morning coffee and the NYT. By 11 a.m., I was back at my condo for the Diane Rehm show broadcasted by the local NPR affiliate, WLRN. Diane wasn’t picked up by my hometown Chicago station, so whenever her unique voice, with its slow, deliberate and almost soulful resonance, found its way to me, I was immediately transported to the condo in Miami. While listening to Diane, I cleaned up the condo, tossed in laundry and spread sunscreen from head to toe, hoping to be on the sand by 12:15 in the afternoon.

Several days a week, La Sandwicherie was a quick, cheap and iconic spot to pick up a sandwich or a salad to eat at the beach. Fresh French rolls or croissants held a unique mix of vegetables with any kind of meat from prosciutto to chicken salad and always topped with a custom mustard vinaigrette. The Front Porch Café at the Penguin hotel was another sought-after spot for Sunday brunch, or a lunchtime break from the sun. The Ice Box, now a bougie restaurant, launched as a catering business expanding to a limited dinner menu on weekend nights. For several years the spot had less than a dozen tables with 3-4 dinner selections written on a chalkboard. In search of the best chocolate cake in the country, Gayle King joined an episode of The Oprah Winfrey Show and discovered it at The Ice Box.

Beach reading needs to be interesting, but casual. Vanity Fair was always saved for time in the sand and sun. From cutting edge coverage of the O.J. Simpson trials to memorable recaps of his lifelong stature of being one-step away from the center of old and new Hollywood, Dominick Dunn’s columns were an instrumental part of the Miami Beach experience.

Shopping and condo improvement projects were saved for rainy days. There’s something soothing about damp beach days when the heavy air pulls in the fragrance of the ocean. If you can find a covered dry spot outside it’s another way to settle in and exhale a little deeper making space for a good book or a nap. Books & Books’ restaurant was situated in one of the arcade spaces along Lincoln Road that provided a perfect open-air respite. On misty or chilly days it was a popular spot to nurse a cup of coffee or a beer while browsing the endless magazine and newspaper collections.

In 1995 only a few hotels on Ocean Drive were renovated. Most of them were simple hotel rooms and studio apartments for senior citizens probably living on limited budgets. With the unique mix of deco architecture and seniors dressed in their 50’s attire, a walk down Ocean Drive was a journey back in time. Although weathered and often in need of renovation, the historic stature of the hotels told the story of a beach town that inspired an entire nation to dream of a Florida vacation.

Many of the hotels, built in 1920s and 1930s, were only several stories high and most included a large outdoor porch entryway facing the ocean. Without air-conditioning their design included cement slabs situated above each window that extended out several feet to create an overhang. Seen in almost all beach deco architecture, the window design is known as an “eyebrow” to pull the ocean breezes more deeply into the homes and hotels.

On Ocean Drive, the sidewalk along the hotels is a wide pedestrian thoroughfare parallel to the ocean. The space provided ample room in the front of each hotel for at least two-rows of 1950 style aluminum lawn chairs made with colorful vinyl straps. The chairs were positioned in a straight line running the full length of the hotel or apartment building. To maximize space the arms rests of each chair were touching as if connected by an invisible tether. From sunrise to sunset every chair was occupied by one of the senior residents. The women were usually smartly dressed in floral prints with pre-World War II Floridian white vinyl pumps, open toed with a modest block heel and a securing strap behind the ankle. Even though the temperature was well into the 80’s, there was usually a sweater draped over their shoulders and a pocketbook securely nestled in their laps. The men were dressed like Fred Mertz in the I Love Lucy show with a starched white shirt, covering a tight-fitting tank top t-shirt - fondly referred to as a “wife beater” - with high waisted slacks in a light hue to stay cool on a hot day.

Miami Beach is consistently rated one of the most beautiful beaches in the world. With crystal clear water, dramatic surf and wide stretches of beach that often extend for several blocks from Ocean Drive to the shoreline, it’s a spectacular sight from almost any vantage point. Photographers across the world will tell you that the latitude of the sun, the reflection of light on the water and the blue hues of both the sky and sea, provide a unique shimmering backdrop for their work. Many believe the Mediterranean Sea around the Greek islands and Miami Beach are the two most sought out locations to find the perfect light.

In the 90’s it was impossible to walk a few blocks without seeing a fashion photo shoot. Without even trying there were a few brushes with celebrities. At an offbeat bay-side gym, I heard Calvin Klein’s raspy East Coast voice on the bench press right next to me. At the tiny bar in the Penguin hotel, Candis Cayne, joined me for a drink while she waited for a drag companion. They were flown in for a swanky private party that wanted to assure there would be enough dazzle and sparkle. Dr. Gary Neuman, a frequent family psychologist on The Oprah Winfrey Show, and Cameron Diaz ordered americanos next to me at Starbucks. Finally, as a beautiful woman exited the elevator of a newly renovated bayside condo building, I commented that she could be Patti LaBelle’s daughter, and a busy-bodied-building attendant snapped that it was Patti LaBelle.

My favorite time of day is about an hour before sunset. As the sun moves to the west behind the palm trees, bright deco buildings and the shallow bay, its radiance softens, and subtle splashes of light unfold in the final minutes of the day. The fading rays create an almost visual embrace as the light pulls away and falls beneath the horizon. Even on humid days when the air is heavy and moist, the setting sun seems to pull at the atmosphere cultivating a slight breath of wind from the Atlantic. But as darkness falls, the warmth of heated streets and sidewalks rises to return a sexy and provocative damp musk to the night.

For years the 12^th Street beach area was marked with Pride flags and was the gathering spot for hundreds of gay men. As the sun would fade, people would head to the iconic Palace for an afternoon cocktail to catch a drag show. The towering queens always pulled in a crowd of onlookers drawn to the beat of a gay anthem and for a few minutes a scene like The Bird Cage unfolded. Young and old, gay and straight, and the melting pot of the beach are all drawn to the tantalizing outrageousness of drag to sate their primal desire to be reminded that the beat goes on.

It took several years, but I cultivated a circle of friends who possessed the same vibrant, exotic and dynamic features of Miami Beach. Although like those who love and revere this beautiful place for the right reasons, they didn’t possess any pretense or attitudes often displayed by those who are there mainly to be seen. Jovial and silly dinner parties, pumpkin carving at Halloween, casual meals on Lincoln Road, paddle on the shoreline and playful banter on the beach gave this glitzy spot the feeling of a second home.

My condo was sold in April of 2019 with the intention of eventually buying something bigger at a beach location – probably not South Miami Beach. My friend sold his place in November of 2023 and with that transaction, it felt like the end of an era for both of us, friends and family. I now live fulltime in Fort Myers on the west coast of Florida. The city has a postcard old Florida vibe, with a downtown that’s been renovated with extraordinary deference to preserve the history of the bustling river town. It’s very snoozy compared to Miami Beach. But for now, it has the energy that seems right for me. My friend and his partner spend the month of February at this new sunny house and last year we toasted in memory and gratitude to the 1,000+ days we spent in Miami Beach.

At 61, I am beginning to reflect on how many more sandy seasons lie ahead. No one gets to choose how they spend their last day in the world. But if I had the opportunity, it would simply be another day with my friends at the beach.

Dedicated to Joe Camper, 911 North Meridian, and 1521 Lenox Avenue.