It has been a tough winter here in Colorado, and in case you haven't noticed, it is still fall. It makes me nostalgic for my sister Susan's and my condo in Stuart, Florida, inherited from our parents, which we are currently renting out to help pay the expenses. I am still debating whether I could afford not to rent it, and still keep my condo here in Denver - an exercise that really makes my brain hurt. In any case, I recently ran across the photograph on the left of my ex-wife Lisa, father Nelson, and mother Mary, taken in front of a restaurant called The Admiral's Table, which was located across the street from the Indian River in nearby Jensen Beach. They had a great salad and soup bar there, with the best clam chowder I have ever tasted. Sadly, it was destroyed after hurricanes Frances and Jeanne hit Stuart back in 2004. In any case, I took the photo in August of 1983, one of the last I ever took of my father, who passed away the following November.
On the same trip, Lisa took the photograph of me on the right at Stuart Beach, holding up a bag of shells. My sister Susan was also a connoisseur of shells, and wound up collecting three or four grocery store bags full of them from the St. Lucie River next to our condo, storing them in the utility room of my mother's building. The next time I came down to Stuart from Denver, my mother had me return them all to the river, to my sister's chagrin. I also threw away her boogie board before we rented the place out, which she also wasn't happy about. I simply consider it an example of "tough love."
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