Our Stories

Reflections on 2020 by Amanda Hagood

This is a picture of me, my son and our cats on the “first day of school.” Since my husband and I both teach on a semester system, we have at least three first days of school among us, and it has become a favorite tradition to capture all the energy and excitement of those days by gathering the family for a portrait. The pictures are always a little goofy, but there’s just something over-the-top about this one: Notice how Elmo is peering creepily over my shoulder? How my son has something mushy and unidentifiable in his mouth? How our walrus-like cats are about to pirouette through the air like some kind of homemade Salvador Dalí tribute? And my face! What’s that emotion on my face? Is it glee? Is it terror? I’ll tell you what it is: it’s 2020.

This picture, which was in fact taken in January 2020, really sums up what this annus horibilis (stop smirking) has been like, for us at least. First of all, everything’s too busy! Our spring semester transformed from a normal one to a 24-hour-Waffle House when, over the course of two weeks, our school went entirely remote and our son finally got his wish of staying home all day, every day, with Mom and Dad. We juggled as best we could our two worlds: one of classes, grading, and meetings and another of bike rides, telling stories, and enough craft activities to finally exhaust my vast sequin collection. There were inevitably moments when the two spheres collided. Like that time the internet service went out while we were both teaching the same class and when we finally got back into the Zoom meeting with all my confused students my son cried, real loud, “Mommy, I’ve poooooped!” And the awkward minutes that followed.

Which brings me to my second point about this picture and this year: Life has become more awkward. This year has brought so many occasions when my typical repertoire of behaviors just wasn’t up to the task. Visiting a relative you haven’t seen in a year? Great! Just don’t hug them, sit near them or talk in their direction. Want to take your son to the playground? Fine, but only if there aren’t other kids around. Greeting a neighbor, or even just asking for help in the hardware store? Say it with your eyes, because mouth communication has become unreliable. Meeting your newborn nephew over FaceTime? You’d better gesticulate wildly, ‘cause babies know what dogs know: If you don’t smell like anything, you’re not real.

And what it boils down to, for us at least, is: We need to go sit in our quiet chairs. So far, we have been sheltered from the worst effects – just one case of the virus in our extended family, and only a few of us with major changes in employment. We have learned to keep calm and carry on through the deluge of infections, deaths, instabilities and insanities all around us. But then, something as trivial as burning dinner launches me into twenty minutes of weeping and gnashing my teeth. There’s so much to process, some new outrageous thing, or unanticipated problem to solve, every day. I know the madness won’t end with 2020, just as the impact of the virus won’t end with the vaccine. But I hope our 2021 picture looks a little different. I hope this year will be calmer, kinder and more patient. I hope we can shift the focus from “getting back to normal” and “having it all” to protecting and nurturing the things that really matter, including the strength of our communities and our own mental health. Now that would be something to smile about.

Amanda Hagood

Getting Through by Stan Rosenberg

2020 started out like any year since we retired almost five years ago – with plans to travel to our children and grandchildren, spread out over three states, a cruise to Bermuda in early July, and my much-anticipated 50th Medical School Reunion in Philadelphia in mid-May. Then disaster struck in the form of coronavirus, and life changed dramatically.

We were visiting our daughter in North Carolina in mid-March when reality set in, as all professional and amateur sporting events were suddenly canceled – something really bad was about to transpire. We flew back to St. Pete on March 19 and haven’t left Florida since. Family events, such as holidays and birthdays, were carried out over Zoom, and FaceTime became an even more important form of human contact.

I stopped going to my gym for fear of contracting the feared virus, but I must admit that decision had a salutary effect on my wellbeing – walking either around the neighborhood or in the mall enabled me to drop about 17 pounds, and my clothes now fit much better!

As I noted, all current sporting events were canceled, so that all we could get on TV was reruns, which encouraged us to expand our reading interests – my wife on her Kindle and me with a variety of mystery writers (chief among them James Patterson and Patricia Cornwell). Being able to purchase paperbacks and hardcovers for $2 and $3 at 321 at the mall was a revelation.

And that reunion? We did it virtually several weeks ago and I still managed to hook up with classmates I hadn’t seen in decades.

I was working at the Free Clinic in Clearwater when the virus arrived, but, due to my age, we mutually agreed that the care there was best delivered by the young doctors. As I said, we haven’t traveled much at all since March, but we did drive over to the East coast (seven hours, round-trip) to spend an hour with my daughter and her family over pizza – masked and socially distanced. As we hadn’t seen them in person since January, it was worth it. Otherwise, our “trips” are confined to Publix, Walmart, Winn Dixie and doctors visits; such are the joys of growing old in a pandemic, but it’s better than the alternative.

We’ve been married for 51+ years, but the relative isolation we are forced to endure just makes us that much closer – there is always something to talk about or share. We know we will get through this, and the recent arrival of the vaccine just increases that hope – as my daughter says, “G-d willing and the creek don’t rise.”

Stan Rosenberg

A Note of Gratitude by Margarete Tober

2020 started as a strange year for me, well before COVID-19 appeared on the scene in its full force. At the end of January, after spending a wonderful 2019 holiday season with my brother and family in Texas, I had a car accident. The car was totaled. I decided to take stock and try to minimize my life. I opted not to replace my car and instead find other modes of transportation.

Of course, we all learned about six weeks later of the enormous dangers with COVID. So in the middle of March, after having learned how to use GEMS, Uber and public transportation, I then became adept at sitting in my easy chair and ordering groceries, liquor and a plethora of items from Amazon online. I’ve also become an expert on occasionally ordering delivery food online. While I felt sorry for myself at first, and I’m still struggling with the fact that I don’t get out to see friends as much as I would like to, I was more concerned for my nieces, my baby brother and others who are still in the workforce. As it turns out, all worked out well for the nieces, and my brother announced his retirement at his 60th birthday party on Zoom. I made a decision not to travel for that, which I didn’t like, but I know it was the right decision. Who ever thought we’d attend various events – including weddings and funerals – via Zoom?

During this time that we’ve endured COVID, we’ve seen the good and the bad. We have had a presidential election, watched our local newspaper, The Gabber, die and then come back to life, and weathered Hurricane Eta. I prefer to dwell on the good that we have seen, and continue to hope that the negative will subside.

So many, including healthcare workers, government officials and the everyday man and woman, have tried so hard to make the best of and help our situation. Some people, sadly, lost their livelihoods, and others their lives.

Here in Gulfport, I’m touched by the many residents that have reached out to help other people – be it donating food to one of the pantries, helping others with storm clean-up, supporting our businesses, and the businesses that have endured the ups and downs. I’m especially thankful that the vast majority of businesses have also been so cautious with their protocals during this time.

I would be remiss if I didn’t also highlight the efforts of our local government. They have done a magnificent job, through long and hard hours. The city’s communication efforts have been stellar, despite the same not being so good on a state level. Mayor Henderson has become a local YouTube celebrity with his many informative PSAs. The police department, library and senior center have also offered virtual programming. The City of Gulfport was also one of the first municipalities, and I believe only small local city, to offer financial aid to its residents and businesses in need.

Long story short, I’ve been blessed to still be healthy and COVID-free, and I’ve not suffered financially. While this isn’t the way I wanted to spend my 68th trip around the sun, I am very thankful this holiday season for having been able to do so.

Cathy Salustri

What 2020 Taught Me by Lois Milne

Reflecting on 2020, what a year! Fortunately, as of writing, I have been healthy – self isolating, masked up and bored! Early in the pandemic, I thought it was a “forced” time to clean and tidy closets, get those things done around the house that had been waiting. But after a time, these tasks were either complete or irrelevant. My plans for summer, visiting friends and family, were gone until who knows when, leaving me with a “now what” attitude.

Fortunately living in a house with a yard in Gulfport afforded me options that many others did not have. As the stories of the pandemic showed me the devastation in families and communities, I had a growing awareness of how fortunate my situation was.

Realizing that this was going to be the way of life for a while, I was going to need to get on with adjusting to a situation of which I had no control. I dusted off my jigsaw puzzle felt, my camera, purchased a rowing machine and Instant Pot. My thoughts were that these things could entertain and challenge me. I could try and keep my fitness under control while practicing patience. Each of these items were, perhaps similar to others during the pandemic, going to fill my days.

As I look in the “rear view mirror” of this year I find that I came through it. I had done much less than in previous years. I learned new things and gained a renewed appreciation for “living in the moment.” The jigsaw puzzles gave me an appreciation for the folks that make them, and frustrated me in getting them completed. The rowing machine disappointed me in how out of condition I was and challenged me with how hard it was getting back to using it. The camera and the Instant Pot demonstrated that my brain could learn some new skills and gave me an appreciation for those who have mastered them.

But mostly I think my priorities for my time and energy were easier to determine. After all, we know life is short, but in 2020 I learned that it can be really short. And that, more than ever, flexibility and “rolling with the punches” needs to be part of my daily life. As Winnie the Pooh said, “You’re braver than you believe, stronger than you seem and smarter than you think.”

Lois Milne

Art Heals by Kiersty Long

“The most powerful art in life is to transform pain into a healing talisman. A butterfly is reborn, blossomed into a colorful party!” – Frida Kahlo

Frida Kahlo is an artist who used her art to process her pain and to heal her heart. Her raw emotions undeniably bleed onto each canvas and you can feel her paintings. Kahlo has always been my biggest inspiration as an artist, and I summoned her strength to guide me through this tumultuous year.

Oh, 2020, where do I begin? This year can be described by many as uncomfortable, challenging and a year of loss. While we all felt isolation and

fear of what is to come, our biggest common denominator this year has been grief. Whether we lost our jobs, separated from a significant other, became sick, lost a family member, or became divided politically, we all felt grief.

We have been forced to examine our roots. What truly makes us happy? What is our passion? What gets us out of bed in the morning? For me, the answer has always been art. 2020 has given me the gift of time. I used this time to paint, paint and paint some more. When I felt lonely, I painted. When I felt heartbroken, I painted. When I felt depressed, I painted. When I did not feel like painting at all, I painted. This had become my outlet and my greatest therapy.

The community of Gulfport has been extremely generous in giving me opportunities to create art and to make a living as an artist. What an amazing little town Gulfport is! I have always wanted to be a full-time artist and to bring joy into people’s lives through my artwork. Somehow, the year I thought I would remember as the worst year of my life, has turned into the year I was able to finally realize my greatest dream.

Some have taken up a new hobby and tried things they have never had the time to explore. I have chosen to dive headfirst into my artwork. This year was a year of discovering what makes us tick. I now am certain that art is something I can rely on to help me through the darkest of times. Art heals.

“I am not sick. I am broken. But I am happy to be alive as long as I can paint.” – Frida Kahlo

Kiersty Long

2020 in St Pete Beach: Mayor's Perspective

It’s been a challenging year in St. Pete Beach. COVID-19 disrupted how we conducted our daily lives and severely damaged our economy. City operations were dramatically revised to minimize the spread of the virus. City Hall was closed, rearranged and staff schedules changed. Many employees worked from home and staggered shifts when in the office to reduce exposure to co-workers.

The public could only engage the city online or by appointment. Even commission meetings were held virtually. It was a different “normal.”

Businesses and beaches were closed for nearly two months in accordance with state and county guidelines. People stopped traveling to visit, which was a huge blow to our tourist-driven economy. Our local businesses and resorts absorbed a huge financial loss which continues to this day. SPB felt like it was in hibernation. Then to top it off on November 11th tropical storm Eta blew by at exactly the wrong time, causing the worst flooding the city has seen in at least 50 years.

In spite of these challenges, much has been accomplished!

In March, three members of our city commission were sworn in. COVID caused these rituals to be quite different – one taking place on the steps of City Hall. A new and a returning city commissioner joined me as I began my second term as mayor.

Our long-time city clerk retired and the commission hired her replacement in early summer about the time the virus was surging. Our major construction projects continued. Early in the year our library moved to temporary quarters as we began a complete re-build of its historic home. The Blind Pass Road street replacement was completed as was the beautification of Corey Avenue. The upgrade to our sewer system broke ground in October and the under-grounding of electrical lines on Gulf Boulevard is set to start as well. We have begun work on the citywide plan to combat sea level rise/ climate change through 2050 and recently adopted a strategic plan to guide our activities through to 2030. This latter item is the result of many brainstorming meetings involving the city’s stakeholders – residents, employees, business owners, hotel owners and elected officials. A truly collaborative effort!

We’re looking forward to ’21! Our commission will be unchanged and is a great group who truly care about this city. I’m proud to be part of the team. We accomplished much in 2020 in some challenging conditions, learning a lot about ourselves in the process. I think COVID-19 brought out the best in people more often than the worst. It’s restored my faith in mankind.

We truly are all in this together and there is nothing we can’t overcome working as one – have faith, follow the CDC guidelines… vaccines are on the way!

Al Johnson

2020 Style by Caron Schwartz

I’ve inherited some pretty good genes. Like my dad, I have barely a wrinkle and nails my sisters envy. And some less-desirable traits: I have my mother’s hair. Thin, fine,and not much of it. I’ve tried styles ranging from hippie long to Dorothy Hamill wedge, from bob to Bob Ross perm. Each required a lot of product and resulted in a lot of bad hair days.

And now, like her, I’m losing what little I have as errant hair sprouts in places I dare not mention.

When I first arrived in Florida my hair suddenly curled. It was July, and I guess going from the Colorado sauna to the Florida steam room was an existential shock. For months I let my frizz flag fly and enjoyed my hair’s new talent. Alas, before long it relaxed, and I roamed between hairdressers until someone razored my meager mane into a Jamie Lee Curtis pixie. Hallelujah! And then, coronavirus. Pixies don’t require daily maintenance, but they need frequent shearing. As COVID-generated, no-salon weeks went by, my hair deteriorated. “Don’t worry about it,” my reflection in the mirror said. “Where ya goin’ anyway?”

Desperate times call for desperate measures. I dug out the clippers (previously used to clean up the exes, who’ve always had nicer locks than me). What’s the worst that can happen, I thought. It will grow back. Besides, on Zoom everybody looks a little disheveled.

My stomach quivered as the first few clumps hit the floor. But as more and more strands fell away I had an epiphany: This is the look I’ve been searching for! So simple, so tidy!

It didn’t take long for me to trade in the bulky, wired, 20-year-old clippers for a lightweight rechargeable version. Even with COVID restrictions lifted, I may never go to a salon again. I love the way the stubble feels. I love how the tiny bristles sparkle. I even love the buzzing on my head.

I know this love affair won’t last forever. Like my 88-year-old mother, I’ll probably succumb to a wig when there’s more skin than hair on my head. But I have to say thank you, 2020, for helping me discover my style.

Caron Schwartz

Waiting and Watching by Eric Espinoza

At the beginning of the year, my azaleas were blooming and I was feeling pretty good about the new year. My partner and I had laid travel plans for the Canadian Maritimes. And I was looking forward to a trip I’d planned with my brother – a week in Arizona watching Cactus League spring baseball. In fact we had tickets for the Padres/Angels game, and a chance to see Joe Madden back with the Los Angeles Angels. Plus, we nabbed tickets for a John Fogerty concert – ”Put me in coach.”

Before long though, my azaleas lost their leaves. It seemed like the flowers of a promising spring were giving way to a dooming shadow, leaving me with gray feelings about the spring and summer I’d planned. I knew then that everything had changed and nothing was the same.

Not knowing where to turn, I turned inside. With the guidelines set forth by the CDC, we isolated, spending extra time in our yard and neighborhood. I learned to watch, wait and wonder, about all the constant changes in nature. I was drawn to Florida native plants and wildflowers. Through curbside pick ups, native plants soon found a home in my yard. A caterpillar slowly eating it’s way along a cassia flower, or it’s cousin, a monarch caterpillar enjoying a meal of milkweed, a cardinal couple chirping with delight over the seeds in our bird feeder or just following a cloud as it passed overhead – all of this and more was happening everyday, as I waited and watched in wonder.

Of course all sporting events, as well as most other things, had been canceled. The only reason I have cable TV is to watch sports, so imagine the lift I felt as sports returned throughout the summer. And boy did they return! First the Lightning lit up the NHL with a Stanley Cup and the Bucs were looking for a Super Bowl ring with newly acquired Tom Brady, the quarterback of quarterbacks. For me, the pinnacle of my excitement was following the Rays 60-game season. Winning didn’t come easy, but from Ji-man at first, Arozarena at the plate, to Morton on the mound, the lowpayroll Rays found a way to win with a full-team effort. Then it was on to the post season. The Rays continued, putting way the Toronto Blue Jays in two games, the New York Yankees in five. Followed by a spirited, heartthrobbing seven-game win over the Houston Astros, and then on to the Dodgers and the World Series. Though a World Series win wasn’t meant to be, their performance was all I could have hoped. The magic of the Rays selfless teamwork gave me a reason to feel good about the future, and so I followed them, waiting and watching with wonder.

Not sure what to conclude, but let me try. Maybe it’s best if, at times, as life throws us uncertain curve balls, to wait, watch and wonder.

Eric Espinoza

A Wish for 2021 by Mayor Sam Henderson

Seasons Greetings Gulfport and Gabber readers!

It has been a long year. I am not here to talk about city accomplishments or policies over the past 12 months. In short, I will just say that I am deeply impressed with how our employees stepped up to the plate in a big way under serious duress, and that we made the best of our challenges. Thanks to all of you on city staff for navigating us through the unique obstacles of 2020.

Now I want to talk about us, all of us, the people trying to live our lives and make our way in this treacherous landscape. This year brought us the most active hurricane season on record, the most divisive and contentious presidential election since 1968 and of course the first global pandemic in over a century. We lost loved ones, jobs, homes, personal connection, the freedom to travel and congregate, and for better or worse, the routine of our daily lives. This year tested us. I am not under the illusion that 2021 is going to be a bowl of cherries, but we enter the new year smarter, tougher and more prepared. At this point, it will take a lot to surprise us. I hope that we go forward with a new understanding of how fragile our lives, our cultural constructs and our society truly are – facing the future not with fear and contempt but with compassion, cooperation and a sense of duty to each other.

I hope that these trials make us better, kinder and more capable people. So for me, I want to say goodbye to the worst of 2020 and hold on to the wisdom that came from it. In New Mexico, they have an annual tradition called the Fiestas de Santa Fe where they burn a hideous effigy named Zozobra – a symbol of the past year’s gloom, pain and worries. People write down their own troubles and add them to the blaze. We were in Santa Fe many years ago during this festival and it struck me as a beautiful way to clean the slate. My family will do a scaled down version of this on New Year’s Eve, and toss our paper into the fire – to manifest the desire to see our troubles go up in smoke. I hope you will all find your own unique way to hold on to the good, the joyful and the hopeful aspects of this past year, and to vanquish your version of Zozobra. Happy Holidays one and all, and here’s to fighting the good fight together in 2021.

Cathy Salustri