Florida isn’t really Florida

Florida , Florida, Florida….the sunshine state is sure, well, in the sun these days. The entire electoral universe is revolving around it. As for me, I’ve never been able out why they don’t make two states out of it; with the exception of California, it’s the most demographically polarized place you can imagine.

South Florida, what with Miami and all, is usually what springs to mind when the state is mentioned. The sprawling urban growth blends into one big megalopolis. “Miami Vice,” the old TV show, is what Florida’s all about, at least to most folks.

By contrast, the western panhandle–the “redneck riviera”–languishes in obscurity. The only place in that region that gets any attention at all is the fair city of Pensacola, which is the distinguished home of naval aviation. Naval Air Station Pensacola is an impressive base, but it’s also a very up-tight place.

Once you venture out of Pensacola, you’re more in the deep south than anything else. When I lived in the area (off of Highway 98 West….still remember that) I was walking distance from Alabama. The region, logically enough, was called “FloraBama.”

Forget the beachy image of bikini clad hardbodies roller skating down the sunny streets of Miami. FloraBamba–though it does, of course, have beaches–is woods country. Swamp country. Hunting country. Dog track racing country. Bible belt, evangelist country. Godzilla-sized cockroach country. Catfish eatin’ country.

And: trailer park country.

A typical newspaper article would run like so:

“MILTON, Fla.—Junior Wallace, 43, was arrested Thursday night after allegedly shooting his common law wife, Thelma Jones, 35, during a boozy family altercation in their Paradise Cove residential trailer.

The dispute erupted after Jones allegedly put Wallace’s dentures in the toilet, in retribution for his proclivity to gamble away his money at the dog track. The couple was three months behind on their rent. Eight children and stepchildren, aged 2 through 17, also live in the trailer.”

This kind of story raises nary an eyebrow. I once asked a sheriff’s deputy how he could face that kind of violent and trashy stupidity every day, and he said with a chuckle he’s got job security. “This place ain’t going to run out of idiots, ever,” he said. Truer words have never been spoken.

There are, of course, a lot of nice folks living in FloraBama, and I’ve got pals out there I still keep in touch with. But FloraBama is a world onto itself. Every time I hear that famous riff from “Dueling Banjos” I’m reminded of the place. Like much of the south, there’s a peculiar blend of charm, vileness, friendliness, evil, country wisdom, and trash ignorance.

I could live there again and enjoy it…maybe.

But, as my Grandpappy from South Carolina used to say: “Them that likes it, speaks well of it.”

Which is, of course, the final word on Florida, or anywhere else for that matter. I do reckon so.

Stephens is an economist with Stephens Corporation, a professional organization in the NMI. His column appears three times a week: Wednesday, Thursday and Friday. Mr. Stephens can be contacted via the following e-mail address: ed4Saipan@yahoo.com.