When I tell people I am from Florida I usually get one of two reactions. Either they think I was lucky to have grown up near the beach and Micky Mouse, as if everybody there is just sunning in a bikini with Mickey serving them Pinacoladas. The other reaction is one of surprise. To the latter folk, Florida is a plastic wast land of cigar smoking developers and their bleach blond redneck wives. Or perhaps they think of the despotic, airbrushed sunsets of hard partying meccas like Datona beach or the aggressively augmented perfection of the bodies gliding down Miami's South beach.
I won't try to deny that there isn't a certain unpredictable quality in the air in Florida. Both the ocean air and the people of Florida can shift quickly without warning. And it seems that the pain threshold of most of the people I grew up with is higher than normal making for some crazy decisions on ATVs and the like. But there is a different Florida that to my surprise I sometimes miss.
It is probably the flatness of Florida that drew people to race everything from horses to cars there. That same flatness allows you to see for miles and miles. It can be overwhelming, like looking into the vastness of the ocean. Only in the country, where I used to sit under huge oak trees, threaded with Spanish Moss it feels like possibility.
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