Trip to Lakeland and St. Pete Beach

Greetings all. I have just returned from a fun and fruitful weekend, first at a watch show in Lakeland, Fla., and second a couple days with my good friends Gene and Pegg Johnson in St. Pete Beach, Fla.

I left Ft. Myers for Lakeland early (6:30 a.m.) on Friday Feb. 10, the day of show, to avoid the expense of staying an extra night in Lakeland. I was giving a talk/presentation on "Elgin Wristwatches of the Roaring '20s" at 10:30 a.m. in one of the show's conference rooms, so arrived at the Lakeland Center about 9:30 a.m. in plenty of time. Picked up my registration packet, then went to the conference room where a computer was set up, along with data projector and screen. All I had to do was plug in a thumb drive I had in my pocket that had my complete Powerpoint presentation on it.

I then made a quick stop to the mart room to see a couple of my contacts, Cliff Dunn, of Jacksonville, Fla., and Andy Edmiston, of Lakeland. They had a small drawer of a parts cabinet containing Illinois wristwatch parts, partials, and movements. Sadly we were not able to arrive at a price. I have long learned not to despair over this. There is always another deal around the corner.

Back to the conference room where I had about 20 people attend my presentation. I think I did pretty well. No one fell asleep, nor did anyone walk out! This was my first Powerpoint presentation, and I was pleased that I learned Powerpoint along with putting together this presentation itself with text and images. I know you folks born after the age of typewriters hardly think anything of this, but  I still marvel at the technology. I remember well the days when an electric typewriter was "high tech." The first hard drive I ever bought stored 20 megabytes of data, was as large as a typical hardcover book, weighed a good five pounds, and cost me $250 used. This was in 1989 or thereabouts. Fast forward to today. My presentation was stored on a drive the size of a baby carrot containing 16 gigabytes of memory (equal to 800 of those first hard drives, which would have weighed 4,000 pounds) and cost me ten dollars! When I first began doing these presentations back on the mid '90s, all my pictures were on photographic slides that I showed through a Kodak Carousel projector, neither of which you can even buy any more! Makes you wonder what's coming down the road.

I went to my assigned table in the Mart room, and set up my goods for sale, which included watches and four copies of my recently published Hamilton wristwatch book. I gave one of my books as a gift, and sold the other three. Damn, should have brought more of those, with (sister) Dawn had advised me to do! Sold a nice group of watches, and purchased about 14 others to bring back to Ft. Myers, all to resell. Spoke with many people, some of whom were old acquaintance/clients of mine, and some were "new" people, at least new to me. The most interesting fellow was Ken Rockwell, of Tampa, FL. Ken's "money career" was in the dental implant business, where he learned metallurgy and enameling, both essential skills in the dental business. He became interested in art as a hobby, and attained a Master of Fine Art degree at Florida State University. He taught himself watchmaking, and now restores 17th and 18th century watches, using his skills learned as a metallurgist and enameler while in the dental business. He and his wife travel the world, attending auctions to acquire new pieces for their collection, across several genres of art including paintings, sculpture, and watches/small clocks. He also makes a side living restoring other people's antique watches, and his skills are in high demand. His average turnaround time for a client's piece is one year. His philosophy of collecting/investing is "think small" because today's (and tomorrow's) collectors who came of age after the millennium aren't looking to acquire large pieces because most are moving into smaller homes, apartments, condominiums, etc. He believes that 17th and 18th century watches and small clocks are a "buyer's market" right now because the museums and the "movers and shakers" within the art world still have not recognized these pieces as "fine art", but will do so soon. Then, he believes, the market will explode. He expanded on this philosophy in his program titled, “We are in a Buyers Market so Buy Smart and Buy with Heart.”

For mid-day meal, I had a "cooler lunch" packed at the apartment back in Ft. Myers because I refused to pay the mafia prices for what passed for "food" at the convention center's concession stand. I had a turkey/cheese sandwich on a hard roll, potato chips, apple, a canned V-8 juice, and a granola bar. Boom, saved myself probably $10 or more right there.

After the show, I checked into my airbnb with my host, Melissah. Great location, less than 2 miles from the conference center and downtown with a wide choice of restaurants. The '50s ranch-style home was comfortable and cozy, and a bargain at only $52 (with tax and service charges) compared with what would have cost me $170 for the night at the show's host hotel, the Hyatt Lakeland Center. Melissah gave me the nickel tour and introduced me to her two permanent roommates who occupy one of the two rental bedrooms in the house. She also introduced me to "Little Dog," her female French bulldog, who took an instant liking to me and put her head on my lap and fell asleep while I was seated on the couch checking emails.

I then called the nearby Texas Cattle Company for a dinner reservation for one at 5 p.m. and took off for the place. I was seated in a comfy booth for two, and ordered the 30-ounce Porterhouse medium-rare with salad, loaded baked potato ($1 extra), and bread. For dessert, a serving of salted caramel ice cream and a cup of decaf coffee. I don't know why, but I am always hungry for a steak dinner after an all-day watch show spent haggling with buyers and sellers (and in this particular case, publicly speaking as well). I supposed it is rooted in the primal urges of my Norwegian Viking ancestors who would customarily feast upon a slaughtered bovine of one kind or another after a day of plunder and pillage. Anyway, here I am with my "kill":

I took about six ounces of meat and one roll back to the airbnb with me to make a lunch sandwich for the next half-day at the show. I got a good night's sleep, and Melissah maintains a nice little breakfast bar for her aribnb guests that included cereal, fresh fruit, granola bars, and a Keurig coffee maker with choice of coffees. All in all, a very pleasant stay.

Back to the watch show where I spent a half day until noon. Sold nothing (very typical), ate my sandwich, and then left for St. Pete beach to spend the next couple days with my friends, Eugene (Gene) and Pegg Johnson of Upper Peninsula Michigan.

Gene and I were co-workers when I worked at Credit Union National Association (CUNA) as a reporter/writer/editor/photographer. Even though I worked there just 2-1/2 years, Gene and I forged a close friendship that is going on 26 years and counting. Gene and I agree on most things, disagree on a few others. He supports me, but also challenges me. All of which makes for deep and spirited conversations. Gene is probably the closest thing to a "mentor" I have had in my life.

To digress for a minute (and if you don't wish to read this introspective shit, skip down to the next bold-face headline), I don't have many regrets in life. But one of them is that I've never really had a true mentor, my own Mr. Miyagi ... someone who takes you under his or her wing, and acts as a trusted advisor, guiding you through various stages of life (whether they be career, or just becoming a decent human being), providing insights into life's great questions, and so forth.  Or perhaps more accurately I maybe never made enough of an effort to cultivate a mentor. Many people get to meet at least one in their life; a few lucky ones get to meet two or more. It was not this way with me. Yes, I have had a few great teachers along the way, and a handful of good friends, and of course can't discount Dad's advice and whatever wisdom he was able to pass along. But that's probably as close as I came. Early in my career as a musician, there was no one I wanted to emulate, least of all my music teacher who was an alcoholic, and a dysfunctional human being on the rare occasions he was sober. The people I worked with at the daily newspaper post-journalism degree were dicks and burnout cases. Most (save for Gene) who worked at CUES/CUNA who I felt "worthy" were too busy climbing the corporate ladder and/or in f***ing meetings all day. So either by design or circumstance, I found my "mentors" in the great, long-dead thinkers of the likes of Emerson and Thoreau. And -- more contemporary and an odd one for you -- Eric Sloane. (Check him out on Amazon.com, particularly "Reverence for Wood" and "Once Upon a Time: The Way America Was.") And I suppose it is no coincidence that I gravitated toward those who preached a gospel of self-reliance. The rest I have more or less made up as I have gone along. But if there can be such a thing as an "almost mentor," it would be Gene. And Gene, if you're reading this, I hope you take this as a compliment. OK, end of introspection, except to say that if anyone reading this has a great personal story about a mentor, I would love to hear it.

Fun and relaxation in St. Pete Beach

Gene and Pegg Johnson rent a nice cozy condo right on beautiful St. Pete Beach. They have a pool, and of course access to the ocean/beach just a short walk away. When I arrived, the three of us brought everybody up to speed on recent goings-on, and I stowed my luggage. Gene and I went for a beach walk and ended up at Jimmy's Beach Bar. Good adult beverages. We each had a Cuervo Gold margarita and a beer, and ordered up a couple appetizers of shrimp cocktail and Mozzarella sticks. They had a very good four piece band that played everything from Santana to Michael Jackson to the Police. We listened to music, drank, ate apps, and watched the sun set. Not a bad way to spend an afternoon. Here is a photo of Gene and I, and of the sunset.

That's Gene on the left

Gene and Pegg get to see this every night!

From there, we went to "Skidders," a Greek-American family style restaurant along the "Strip" (Gulf Blvd.) where I had one of the best Gyro sandwiches since my days of going to the Parthenon restaurant on State Street in Madison back in late 1970s. Yummy, with a whopping portion of meat strips that were done just right. Usually, the strips are overcooked because they are presliced from the meat drum and allowed to sit under a warmer for future use where they continue to cook and thus dry out. All this for the bargain price of $7.50. With $1.50 tip, this is the first dinner here in Florida that I can remember for less than ten bucks. After dinner, we walked about a mile along the Strip back to the condo. Gene and I reminisced for a while, then went to bed.

Sunday, up at 7 a.m. and made a cup of coffee in their Keurig, and had a grapefruit. Gene prepared a deluxe breakfast of bacon and eggs with English muffins in their tiny kitchen. I can see why they don't cook much, given the scarcity of counter space! But that works out fine for them, as they usually only eat two meals a day anyway, with a continental style breakfast made in-condo, and dinner out somewhere. I think this is probably the way most residents here do this, and the floorplan is the same in these units. Come to think of it, I believe the whole of St. Beach goes out for dinner every night judging by the crowds at the restaurants!

Down the pool after that for reading, swimming and relaxing poolside with a couple of Heinekens. This is one of my fave beers, along with Rolling Rock, Yeungling (which I can't get back in Wisconsin, by the way) and Blue Moon. Yes, I am pretty much a pussy with respect to my beer. I like the Lagers and Pilsners in favor of the more bitter ales and IPAs.

Gene and I walked a 2-mile hike on the beach, and then got ready for our "big" dinner out at Guppy's, an upscale seafood restaurant about 17 miles up (north) the beach in Indian Rocks. It's kind of weird how these communities along the strip run contiguous with one another all the way up (north) to Clearwater. Makes things a little confusing, so locals here often reference mile markers to locate a certain destination rather than a specific address or community. ("Meet me at Guppy's at Mile Marker 17-1/2 on the right as you're heading north.") Anyway, Gene, Pegg, and I met Pegg's cousin, Joe (from Clearwater) at the restaurant just after 6 p.m. and had a wonderful meal and conversation there. I had four large diver (sea) scallops served with green beans and risotto. Delicious. Joe likes expensive small batch bourbons, so I was hoping for a Booker Noe to mark the occasion, but had to "settle" for a Knob Creek (neat) which was plenty good for me. But Joe passed in favor of searching out better whiskey later in the night. (To which he invited the three of us, but we passed. Pegg does not drink, and neither Gene nor I are much of night owls these days.) So the three of us made our way back to the condo. Gene and I reminisced about our days at CUNA, and about 10 p.m. hit the sack.

Monday morning, I made up the guest bed and had a continental breakfast of cottage cheese with fresh blueberries, English muffin with p.b. and J, and coffee. I hit the road at 9:30 a.m., and was back in Fort Myers at noon.

All in all, a very enjoyable 3-day weekend, productive on Friday, and relaxing on Saturday/Sunday.

Bruce