There’s so much that I should do, but not much that I wish to do. I would not wish for more time spent doing the things that I don’t wish to do. I could fill every hour offered to me with all the things that I do that never end. No matter how much time there may be, it is only by my choice to say when it’s enough. If I treated my time like my great uncle treated dessert, there would always be time enough for doing what I wished to do.

My great uncle, George, was a legendary character within my mother’s family. He moved all alone to Florida not too long after the Second World War. He had spent time in prison before the war in the place of his friend. Now why did he do such a thing as serve time for another? His friend had a young family while George felt he was young and free with few responsibilities. He believed that a few years of his time were not all that much to give for a friend in need.

Once free, he built himself a home looking South over the sea. He used the front half of a Quonset Hut, set up upon posts, and placed it just behind the mangroves on Marathon Key. There were no public services to his small bit of tropical paradise. His shower water was heated by the sun. He would pull the cord and see just how warm or cold the water of the day would be. He had a small boat since the waters were shallow. The boat had no sails, just poles and 2 paddles. But he would spear fish among the coral and check his baskets for crab for his breakfast and dinner. His belly was full but the thing he never had, out there on that sunny beach, was dessert.

When he rode out the great hurricane in the 1950’s (before they named them after women)the water shot sideways through the old Quonset Hut. He roped himself in and survived the storm. But his belongings headed north with the waves, and 2 of the posts that held the hut upright lay broken, their bases still buried deep in the sand. He was left there for days until the roads and bridges were cleared of debris. When finally the vanguard of civilization, the postman, appeared where his mail box used to be, he hitched a ride away from the sea. Family and friends made sure he was supported and with time he returned to Marathon Key. He rebuilt his house, after clearing the debris. The remains became parts for a new outdoor shower, the unbroken support posts were raised so that he could hook up electricity. His family would come to visit and to fish in the sea. They caught large fish and small fish taking pictures of them all; even black-tipped sharks were photographed being held by my mom.

But George charged a fee. Even the family didn’t stay for free. If you wanted to stay in his tropical paradise and play you had to bring a dessert. It didn’t matter what kind, as long as it was sweet. Roasts and stews were nice too but they didn’t count. Every day you were there, a treat would be expected and shared. Dessert was always eaten first. George valued his time on the Earth. His view was that he would choose to eat what he loved first before he would see to his good nutrition. His time was there to do as he wished. He had already spent all the time he was willing to spend on all the things he should do.

One of these days, when I have time, I need to scan the hundreds of photos my mom left behind.

Thank you for reading.