The day Charlie Crist announced he was running for the United States Senate he stopped by Mission San Luis in Tallahassee for an event promoting Florida’s natural tourism and the state’s multiple historical treasures that date back a few centuries.
Inside a remake of what would have been a 17th century church a throng of local, state and national journalists gathered just in case the sitting governor divulged any information about his political ambitions.
Few if any of the throng of information carnivores stopped to realize that part of the reason Crist added the speaking engagement to his schedule was to support Florida’s most recognizable industry at a place that was once a Spanish mission and the capital of Spanish Florida for more than 50 years in the late 17th century.
As I walked to my car I met a man from Pensacola who was part of the city’s 450th anniversary celebration in 2009 and coordinating Florida’s quincentennial in 2013. We joked about Florida history, and specifically how most people don’t recognize the richness of it.
Prior to World War II Florida was the South’s least populated state. Now, it’s so crowded with snowbirds, tourists and people who eventually wound up here—as well as a few colorful natives liberally sprinkled in this conservative state—that one friend joked “It’s the South’s cousin that went to college.” And yet with a population and GDP that is larger than The Netherlands, there are people who cry foul when some residents want to speak languages other than English. Apparently, they never took the time to remember Florida was named by a Spanish man who was so enamored with all the flowers he saw upon searching for his fountain of youth.
For many people Florida is the state that gave the world Disney World, hanging chads, Casey Anthony. Others believe it’s where the shuttle is launched, or one super sized retirement community. Then again, by 2030 there will be more people over 65 in Florida than any other state in the country and it will be the largest age demographic.
And then there are some who only shake their head at the peninsula because we have people like Douglas Arp, a Tampa man who was arrested this week for illegally selling Viagra at a liquor store.
But this is a state where someone named after Napoleon can have a county named after them. And a descendent of his can become the state’s Chief Financial Officer a century later.
Florida has a river of grass, which while decimated by Central Florida developers is still a sight to see. Or a forgotten coast where drivers can take a hairpin turn while overlooking the Gulf of Mexico, just miles from where the state’s original constitution was written in 1838.
An animal hospital in Tallahassee had a sign that asked by Noah allowed mosquitoes to join him on his ark, a sight that elicited a huge laugh from me because my hometown was once a part of Mosquito County, before being separated into Brevard, Indian River and St. Lucie counties.
These days people are wondering whether they can impeach a highly unpopular governor, one who proposed to cut 10 percent in education spending before the Legislature came to its senses for once and only sliced eight percent of the dollars per student. Of course they could propose the state’s constitution is amended and governor’s are once again limited to one term in office.
Despite being a place that is so popular with retirees there are cities named Winter Haven and Winter Park, there is an overarching sense that people do not realize just how rich the differences and oxymorons of a place that is the Sunshine State, but home to the Lightning Capital of the World.
Florida has always been a state of populist politicians, who ascend to power on the ignorance of its residents that are a combination of southern yokels, naturalized Yankees, beach bums, retirees and clandestine natives. Those who don’t understand that commit political suicide, or blow their brains out like John Milton, the state’s Civil War governor who just couldn’t stand the thought of sharing his lost paradise with Northerners.
But studying Florida governors is not something most people waste their time doing. Otherwise most of us would have a bigger affinity for a $20 bill, or wonder who were the men whose legacies will forever be attached Gilchrist, Hardee and Perry counties.
No one is going to lead a charge to name anything after Charlie Crist, but listening to a man who was such a representation of his constituents that he decided to sun tan too much that May afternoon made me remember my native state is know for more than fools and football players. Even if the colorful underbelly is constantly being relegated to books that no one bothers to read.
Laughs and liveliness,
-Wb
Inside a remake of what would have been a 17th century church a throng of local, state and national journalists gathered just in case the sitting governor divulged any information about his political ambitions.
Few if any of the throng of information carnivores stopped to realize that part of the reason Crist added the speaking engagement to his schedule was to support Florida’s most recognizable industry at a place that was once a Spanish mission and the capital of Spanish Florida for more than 50 years in the late 17th century.
As I walked to my car I met a man from Pensacola who was part of the city’s 450th anniversary celebration in 2009 and coordinating Florida’s quincentennial in 2013. We joked about Florida history, and specifically how most people don’t recognize the richness of it.
Prior to World War II Florida was the South’s least populated state. Now, it’s so crowded with snowbirds, tourists and people who eventually wound up here—as well as a few colorful natives liberally sprinkled in this conservative state—that one friend joked “It’s the South’s cousin that went to college.” And yet with a population and GDP that is larger than The Netherlands, there are people who cry foul when some residents want to speak languages other than English. Apparently, they never took the time to remember Florida was named by a Spanish man who was so enamored with all the flowers he saw upon searching for his fountain of youth.
For many people Florida is the state that gave the world Disney World, hanging chads, Casey Anthony. Others believe it’s where the shuttle is launched, or one super sized retirement community. Then again, by 2030 there will be more people over 65 in Florida than any other state in the country and it will be the largest age demographic.
And then there are some who only shake their head at the peninsula because we have people like Douglas Arp, a Tampa man who was arrested this week for illegally selling Viagra at a liquor store.
But this is a state where someone named after Napoleon can have a county named after them. And a descendent of his can become the state’s Chief Financial Officer a century later.
Florida has a river of grass, which while decimated by Central Florida developers is still a sight to see. Or a forgotten coast where drivers can take a hairpin turn while overlooking the Gulf of Mexico, just miles from where the state’s original constitution was written in 1838.
An animal hospital in Tallahassee had a sign that asked by Noah allowed mosquitoes to join him on his ark, a sight that elicited a huge laugh from me because my hometown was once a part of Mosquito County, before being separated into Brevard, Indian River and St. Lucie counties.
These days people are wondering whether they can impeach a highly unpopular governor, one who proposed to cut 10 percent in education spending before the Legislature came to its senses for once and only sliced eight percent of the dollars per student. Of course they could propose the state’s constitution is amended and governor’s are once again limited to one term in office.
Despite being a place that is so popular with retirees there are cities named Winter Haven and Winter Park, there is an overarching sense that people do not realize just how rich the differences and oxymorons of a place that is the Sunshine State, but home to the Lightning Capital of the World.
Florida has always been a state of populist politicians, who ascend to power on the ignorance of its residents that are a combination of southern yokels, naturalized Yankees, beach bums, retirees and clandestine natives. Those who don’t understand that commit political suicide, or blow their brains out like John Milton, the state’s Civil War governor who just couldn’t stand the thought of sharing his lost paradise with Northerners.
But studying Florida governors is not something most people waste their time doing. Otherwise most of us would have a bigger affinity for a $20 bill, or wonder who were the men whose legacies will forever be attached Gilchrist, Hardee and Perry counties.
No one is going to lead a charge to name anything after Charlie Crist, but listening to a man who was such a representation of his constituents that he decided to sun tan too much that May afternoon made me remember my native state is know for more than fools and football players. Even if the colorful underbelly is constantly being relegated to books that no one bothers to read.
Laughs and liveliness,
-Wb
