Remembering where we are

There are times when the sound of the gulls echoes just right; when the humidity, temperature, and strength of the breeze is just right; or when perhaps you see some little visual reminder; and, you remember just where you are, living on a peninsula between a huge bay and an even bigger gulf (next stop…Mexico).

When I was a kid and the family would make its yearly treks southward to visit family, sometimes we were lucky enough to come on down past Mississippi into Florida and Tampa Bay. I remember, distinctly, one archetypal image that always said to me, “You are now someplace special.” That was the ubiquitous oyster shell covered driveways. Sometimes, whole roads were covered in oyster shell. (Back in those days, not all roads were paved…well, I guess they’re still not!) I’m not sure why they fell out of favor, but oyster shell roadways are gone. But every so often, I’ll see some sand amid a mix of pebbles by the edge of the sidewalk and remember that, really, we’re just living–quite temporarily–on what was once the bottom of the ocean floor.

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Sometimes our awakening is caused by a building from a bygone era. Much of downtown St. Pete has living postcards that are still in use such as the old open air post office pictured here. Take a few minutes and check out these collections of vintage St. Pete postcards belonging to my friend, Fran Sims. Almost everything pictured in those cards still exists and is in use in some way.

Usually, we glide right past these places. Then sometimes, some chance occurrence–we’re on foot when we usually drive, we’ve taken an unusual route, the light angles a certain way–then we see the place anew and realize where we are. We see the traces of women with parasols and men with straw boater hats still drifting along the colonnades.

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Sometimes the cue to remember will be under our feet. For me, it’s when I realize I’m walking on Augusta brick. Sometimes it’s the hex block sidewalks found in different neighborhoods. Or…PINK STREETS, a phenomenon found in St. Petersburg on the extreme southern tip of Pinellas Point.

All of us who live here are less than 15 minutes from some water’s edge (often far less than 15 minutes). How recently have you visited the water’s edge? No time? Take your morning coffee there on the way to work. Sit there alone and wake up to surf sound. It’ll help you remember why you even bother to go to work. And, if you don’t live here, wherever you do live there is something (or even more important, someone) special and unique to that place. Now, I’m talking to myself as much as you: if we let more than a week go by without remembering where we are–and visiting its special offerings–we’re letting something precious go to waste. Let’s take some time this week to rediscover where we are.