I went to opening day at the Trop last week. The Rays won. But that was not the big story. The big story is that the Trop is again open, and better than ever. OK, it’s still a weird baseball park, but it’s clean, much brighter than before with its new roof and much bigger scoreboard.
As I sat in the stands, it made me feel good, not just because I enjoy baseball. It was more than that. It was one more step toward normal after our devastating 2024 storms. I think that’s what the sold-out crown felt too. Like a little piece of our lives pre-Sept. 26, 2024.
The first pitch was thrown out by Mayors Castor and Welch (terrible throws, both) and when they slapped hands after, it was more than two pols celebrating a toss, it was a symbol of unity.
I don’t know about your neighborhood, but mine is slowly recovering. Still, on my street at least four properties remain unlivable. We see signs of destruction every day. And, check your calendars because the new you-know-what season begins in about seven weeks. I really don’t know much about the Ninos and the Ninas, but apparently a super one of them may happen this year. And from what I have read it means either better news for us here in Florida or it means worse news.
I knew when we bought a house on a barrier island that the potential for disaster was there. The month we settled on our property the BP oil spill happened. Two years later a tropical storm named Debby took away our beaches for a while and knocked down trees in our neighborhood park. And that was in early June. In 2020, we had hurricane Eta visit. Didn’t do much damage, but it was a reminder that nature can be fickle.
So buckle up folks. Let’s hope that what we have experienced recently is not the new normal. But it might be. However, I am an optimist by nature. I’m not going to bury my head in the sand and pretend everything was like it was 20 years ago. Instead I am going to enjoy every wonderful sunset and every stunning view of dolphins frolicking off the beaches as long as I can.
To quote F. Scott Fitzgerald (who stayed at the Don CeSar a few times), “And so we beat on. Boats against the tide.” Which I guess means we have to struggle to let go of the past or we will remain stuck there forever.
Chris Core is a former Washington, D.C. radio and television personality who now lives in Pass-a-Grille. He is a winner of the Edward R. Murrow Award for outstanding achievement in broadcast journalism.