No shoes, no shirt, no problem

It will soon be diving season in the Abaco’s.  No self-respecting Bahamian will enter the water until it is warmer than 80 degrees unless they fish commercially to support their families.  March is when I switch to more cardio.  As I said in my last post it’s all about bottom time.  Running provides me with long periods of boredom interrupted by random thoughts.  I had an epiphany thanks to Stevie Kurant and a probable period of extended hypoxia on my last run.

Stevie Kurant and his six brothers and sisters were my next door neighbors.  Their father was a truck driver and their mother was a cashier.  Obviously they as was I were raised catholic.  The sin of birth control was the Pope’s way of ensuring that the pews would continue to be filled every Sunday for generations to come.  The Kurants were obviously broke, but they still sent all the kids to catholic school and everyone in the family had great birthday parties and a good Christmas.  My father was a trust fund baby.  He had a steady income, but never quite enough to be considered wealthy.  I used to spend a lot of time making up stories why he didn’t work while everyone’s parents worked two jobs.  My epiphany was this..Stevie Kurant and I were a couple of the happiest kids in the world.  We would fish every day of the summer, usually with cane poles.  We would catch “silver fish” off the sea walls and use them for bait.  We would clean fish for the tourists off the “Head Boats” for a nickle a fish,  then play dock tag in Pass-A-Grill,  all for about ten cents a day.

Fast forward to 2010.  I live in paradise surrounded by some of the wealthiest people in the world.  Trust me, I am not within their ranks, but do help keep them alive.    A significant number of them deal with depression on a daily basis.  All the SSRI’s, alcohol and self medication in the world doesn’t pull them out of their funk….neither do buckets of money.   The cost of their trolling tackle alone is more than the value of the house I grew up in St. Petersburg Beach.  The cost of fuel for their sport fisherman for the summer season would put the average kid through college and med school. 

Sometimes I wish I was back on the sea wall bare foot and shirtless looking for silverfish with Stevie Kurant.

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