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FEBRUARY, FLORIDA
Think of Florida, and what image appears-- miles of strip malls, franchise eatery signs beside crowded six-lane highways,
condominiums and developments sprouting like dandelions in an April lawn? Parts of the Sunshine State do give the
impression that the builders left their good sense and taste back in the Midwest or New England, or wherever they came
from, but there are some other Floridas, out on the byways and backroads, and we are fortunate enough to discover them
once in a while.
You leave the big Interstate and turn west on the state highway, quickly leaving behind the little oasis of tourist
services (gas stations, citrus, and souvenir stands) and start to drive the twelve miles to Floral City through scrub
woods, palmetto and pine hammock. As you near the town, you pass through a long arcade of old live oak trees, arching
high above the road, and draped with Spanish moss. The houses are pleasant, well kept, and of a comfortable size- yellow
seems to be a favorite color. You’re quickly in the middle of town-- it’s pretty small-- and just past the firehouse is
the venue, a community building that is sometimes a bingo parlor, sometimes the Lions Club, and today the hall for a folk
concert.
The hall is from the Thirties, built by the Conservation Corps (I like New Deal stuff). Outside it’s all brownish stone,
inside it’s blue-green walls and new hardwood floors, and nicely spacious. The room fills comfortably, and after waiting
a few extra minutes for the latecomers, we kick in to our first set. Sheryl and I are a little off our game for this show,
unfortunately; she had a cold a few weeks back and it’s all gone except for a slight cough which comes back when she tries
to talk or sing. So this crowd doesn’t get our very best, they don’t get to hear some of the songs Sheryl sings so well,
and I carry most of the show. We’ve been through this before, and know how to compensate when one of us is not
fully-functioning, but this crowd is so nice it’s too bad we can’t be as good as possible. Still, we get through. It’s
the day after the latest space shuttle accident, and we sing our “space shanties” to honor this: “Ride, Sally” and “We
Watched You Go”. In the second set we debut a new song, “Just Remember My Love, My Love”, and Sheryl’s voice is strong
enough for a good “When I Cross the Great Divide” to close it out, with the audience helping out well on the choruses.
Yeah, we like playing big halls and big towns, but sometimes the soul of this music is here in a community building in
Floral City, Florida, or Missoula, Montana, or Burlington, Iowa, or…
We drive east into the evening, feeling as though we have really connected with some of these folks, and if it wasn’t our
best performance ever, it was the best one we had in us today. We stop for the night just west of Orlando, and in the
morning we drive through the world headquarters of tacky, the outskirts of Disneyworld, mile upon mile of franchise signs,
motels, souvenir shops, fast food-- like a cheesy kaleidoscope to boggle the mind. But at least we know there’s another
Florida. We’ve just been there.
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