Category Archives: Living in Vero Beach

Testing my new toy

Posted on by

Ever since I met plein air painters in the boatyard, a couple of years ago, I’ve wanted to try my hand at it. (See “Beauty and Goodness Are In the Air,” which was published on mepsnbarry.com in Feb. 2014)

Three weeks ago, my father got me a French box easel for my birthday. Now I can go out and do plein air painting, which seems like a great way to get fresh air and mosquito bites, as well as talk to curious strangers. Today, I did a test painting on the back porch, and as you can see from the results, Frank Lloyd Bear joined in the fun!

Painting

Painting of Dad’s lake with Frank Lloyd Bear meditating

French box easel

The French box easel on the back porch. Its design incorporates some seriously complicated 19th-century engineering.

How much for the kitty in the window?

Posted on by

The sign at the strip mall simply said “Kitten and Cat Adoption.” The sign on the door said “Open.”

I had some free time and a camera, so I stuck my head inside. I’m not looking for a cat, but I thought I could take some photos to bring attention to cats in need of adoption.

Inside The Cats Meow, I found dozens of happy, healthy cats lounging around, watched over by a volunteer named Kristin. She told me the shelter was founded a couple of years ago by Barbara Eakins, and that the 501(c)3 needs donations of money and supplies, as well as homes for cats. If you’re local to Vero Beach, they’re having a fundraiser on May 14 at Uncle Sam’s.

Here are some of their current residents, looking adorable and adoptable. The internet needs more kitty pictures!

Because nice matters

Posted on by

On April 19, the city of Vero Beach issued a certificate recognizing Mike Williams, aka “Mr. Smoke’s,” for his contributions to the community and 35 years in his current location. His customers marveled at the irony: This was the very same business that both the city and the state fought to shut down in the 1980’s.

How did Mike go from being anathema to award-winner? He never gave up. More importantly, he never became bitter. He kept going, and he kept smiling.

Last year, I attended his 34th anniversary party and wrote about his customers in a piece entitled “A good guy, always happy.” This year, mayor Jay Kramer showed up to congratulate Mike and receive the first t-shirt. Other than that, the event was just like last year’s — a small-town gathering with live music and happy, smiling people hugging each other. As the sticker on Mike’s sales counter says, “Because nice matters.”

If you were featured in one of the photos below, please let me know if you’d like your name added to the caption!

I’m gonna fax a Polaroid

Posted on by

It only took me 30 minutes at the St. Vincent dePaul Thrift Store to find all the components of a pirate wench costume: The multi-layer skirts and blouses, the gold belt, the red headscarf. By 10:30 am, I stood in line to pay for my armful of colorful finds.

There were a few people behind me and a few ahead of me, and there was only one cashier. He was an older gentleman, and judging by his careful, methodical handling of each sale, probably a volunteer.

While we waited, I noticed that the young couple in front of me was buying a Battleship game.

“That looks like fun!” I said to them. “I bet I know what you’ll be doing today.”

The young woman’s face lit up. “It’s in great condition! We checked, and all the pieces are there.”

“You’ll have to post a picture of yourselves playing, like that.” I pointed at the box, which featured two excited children sitting across from each other, separated by the plastic stand-up Battleship board.

It was a scene from the 1970’s that I remembered well. But the young couple didn’t look old enough to remember the 70’s.

“I’m going to take a Polaroid and fax it to all my friends,” quipped the man. “And then I’m going to call them on my land line to make sure they got it.” The way the two of them laughed, I knew neither of them had a land line.

“I know what you mean,” I said. “I called my Dad the other day, and he had left his phone off the hook. I’d forgotten what a busy signal sounds like!”

When it was their turn, they set the box on the counter. As the cashier searched for the price sticker, I suddenly flashed back to 1993, and I said to him, “However much it is, could you just add it to my stuff?”

“Huh? It’s two dollars,” he said, entering it into the cash register. “Two fifty-one, with tax.”

The young woman protested briefly, but I said, “I’d just like to enjoy the thought of you playing Battleship.” I gave her a little hug and shooed the two of them out the door with their prize.

The cashier finished totaling up my pirate outfit, and as I paid for everything, he said, “That was a nice thing you did.”

I explained my 1993 flashback. “When I was their age, I had the exact same thing happen to me. My husband and I found a Scrabble game in a thrift store, with every single one of the pieces. And when we went to pay for it, guess what? A complete stranger insisted on buying it for us.”

I’d forgotten about it, but 23 years later, it’s making me smile. So is the thought of two young people, somewhere in Vero Beach, saying, “Heyyyy! You sank my battleship!”

Battleship box

Doing the Christmas wave

Posted on by

This Christmas was a very busy time for me — hosting visitors, wrapping gifts, cooking homemade food, and preparing for the Strangers Have the Best Candy Florida Keys book tour. I was running nonstop, somewhere between frantic and frenetic.

Finally, on Christmas morning, after I dropped my father and brother at the Catholic church, I had a rare treat: 15 whole minutes to myself.

I drove to Riverside Park in Vero Beach, where I thought I might walk along the river or just sit and look at the water. That all changed when I drove into the park and saw two young women in shorts holding cardboard signs. From a distance, they looked like hitchhikers at Burning Man! But up close, I could read the signs, which said “Free Christmas Breakfast.”

I rolled down my window. “Who’s sponsoring the breakfast?” I asked. They told me that it was a group from King’s Baptist Church, and they pointed up the road to a picnic shelter where they would be serving until 10:30. I glanced at the clock on my dashboard. It was 10:25.

All I hoped for was a good cup of coffee, but the friendly young group had much more than that. They had a huge grill and enough pancakes and eggs and pastries and orange juice for all of Vero Beach. They had excellent coffee.

They sat me down and treated me as an honored guest, and we talked about my favorite subject, talking to strangers. The conversation flowed along to a fun related topic, waving at strangers. On this sunny Christmas morning beside the river, no one was in a hurry to leave at 10:30, and I stayed past my planned 15 minutes.

I don’t remember all seven of their names, but thanks to this photo, I do remember their joyful faces. Here is how we celebrate Christmas in Florida: Out in the sunshine, smiling and waving at all of you.

7 new friends waving

Waving for the camera on Christmas morning

Love Wins

Posted on by

Love Wins.A while back, a dear friend of mine in Vero Beach gave me a ride in her new car. Right over the glove compartment, in front of the passenger seat, was a boldface black-and-white bumper sticker that said “Love Wins.” “What’s that?” I asked.

She told me about a church, about a mile south of my Dad’s house, that welcomed absolutely everybody, no matter what their ethnicity, sexual orientation, or beliefs. On their website, I read:

“We extend a special welcome to those who are single, married, divorced, gay, filthy rich, dirt poor, yo no habla Ingles. We extend a special welcome to those who are crying newborns, skinny as a rail or could afford to lose a few pounds. We welcome you if you can sing like Andrea Bocelli or like our pastor who can’t carry a tune in a bucket. You’re welcome here if you’re “just browsing,” just woke up, or just got out of jail. We don’t care if you’re more Christian than Mother Theresa, or haven’t been in church since little Joey’s Baptism. We extend a special welcome to those who are over 60 but not grown up yet, and to teenagers who are growing up too fast. We welcome soccer moms, NASCAR dads, starving artists, tree-huggers, latte-sippers, vegetarians, junk-food eaters. We welcome those who are in recovery or still addicted. We welcome you if you’re having problems or you’re down in the dumps or if you don’t like “organized religion,” we’ve been there, too. If you blew all your offering money at the dog track, you’re welcome here. We offer a special welcome to those who think the earth is flat, work too hard, don’t work, can’t spell, or because grandma is in town and wanted to go to church. We welcome those who are inked, pierced, or both. We offer a special welcome to those who could use a prayer right now, had religion shoved down your throat as a kid, or got lost in traffic and wound up here by mistake. We welcome tourists, seekers and doubters, bleeding hearts… and you!”

The Love Wins Church

The Love Wins Church

I asked my friend to take me, but I was shocked when she pulled into the parking lot. It was a nondescript blue church with a sign that said “Pioneer Baptist Church.” Although I am comfortable sailing acoss oceans and riding with gun-toting South Dakota strangers, I nearly chickened out at the door. I have only been inside a Baptist church once, and that was to cadge a free Thanksgiving dinner.

That week, when I heard the message of pastor Todd Holden, I was amazed. This Baptist preacher’s message was simple: If we set aside our own judgement and love each other, we are doing it right.

I went to the church three times in March, listening intently when Todd spoke. I left Florida just after Easter with a lot to think about. When I came back in November, I went to his church three more times.

On my sixth visit to church, before the service, Todd announced that he was stepping down as pastor. It wasn’t a surprise; attendance was dwindling. That morning, he told us that he would give only two more sermons. The first would repeat the very first sermon he gave at Pioneer Baptist in 2002, introducing his theology. The second, his final sermon, would sum up his entire theology for the congregation.

In that first sermon, he talked about seeking God and finding him where we least expect him. It was a great message to give when he and his congregation embarked on their 13-year journey together. Since it was Advent, it also aligned with the story of the three wise men. At the end, he reminded us that the following week, he would give a sermon that would sum up his entire theology. He emphasized that several times.

Last Sunday, on the day of Todd’s last sermon, I sat alone in the middle of the front row. I placed my phone on the seat next to me.

Heather, his wife, led several Christmas hymns on her guitar, interspersed with three Bible readings. All were very clear, powerful messages from Jesus about loving each other.

Then Todd got up to speak. I quietly turned on my phone’s voice recorder, thinking I might like to listen to his words in the future, perhaps on one of my long drives across the country. Heather had also set up a camera on a tripod.

He stood there and simply looked at us, the ragtag remnants of a much larger congregation. He didn’t speak immediately, and I thought it was because he was too emotional.

Then he took a deep breath, and he said, “Love one another.”

Todd sat down.

Those three words were his last sermon, the one that would sum up his entire theology.

I sat in disbelief, and finally, I reached over and turned off my voice recorder. I don’t know if I’ll ever go to church again. I don’t think I need to. I have already memorized the most powerful, inspiring sermon ever given in a Baptist church.

Tony and Meps

My friend Tony and I had never felt as welcome as we did at this little blue church. We took this photo on our last visit.