A Christmas in St. Augustine

St. Augustine prides itself on being "the oldest continuously occupied European city in the United States". The city has restored and reconstructed a large portion of the downtown area. Its main street in the 'Historic District' is St. George Street. This street has been converted into a pedestrian walkway. No cars allowed. Tourists can walk down St. George Street and get a feel of what life was like way back when. Tourists come to the city from all over the world. Sitting in a sidewalk café one can hear a dozen different languages. It is the closest thing an American can get to a European city without a passport.

Up until recently, there were artists, musicians, street performers and novelty vendors on St. George Street. Artists set up their easels along the sides of the street and painted images of the ancient city. Some did pencil or coal portraits of tourists. You could hear blues, Spanish guitars, and fife and drums being played. Jugglers and puppeteers entertained young and old alike. One disabled veteran had a little dog that sat in the basket of his bike and posed for photographs. If you pulled out a camera, the dog turned toward you, raised his head and held it there until there was a click or a flash. Then he went back to lounging in the basket. The dog's owner accepted tips. Some enterprising souls sold beadwork and woven palm-frond works of art spread out on a blanket. There was a joy and positive energy on St. George Street. Tourists always walked away with a smile.

My wife and I had a store off St. George Street and became friends with a number of artists, musicians and street performers. We were new to the area and did not know that many people. So, for Thanksgiving we would invite these transients to our little house. It was fun. They told stories about their lives, some funny, some sad. But always interesting. They enjoyed a home cooked meal. We enjoyed their company.

We invited one couple who were street musicians to our home for Thanksgiving. They really appreciated the invitation, but had a previous commitment to visit friends living near Miami. When Christmas Eve rolled around, this couple invited us to their 'home'. They were house-sitting in a big old Victorian house just three doors from the intercoastal waterway. The downstairs of the house had a big open living room with a large stone fireplace, several couches, and cushions on the hardwood floors, hurricane lamps on the mantle. Behind the couches were stashed several canoes and kayaks. These folks loved to go out on the water early in the day or late in the evening to listen to and observe the wildlife along the shore.

They had a full-course traditional turkey dinner and lots of veggies for the vegetarians in the group. And there was wine. Lots of wine! After the dinner we sat in the living room with only the light from the lanterns and the fire in the hearth. The musicians played bluegrass music, colonial era music, folk music. Those who did not play an instrument clapped to the rhythm of the song or sang along. The wine helped!

Toward the end of the evening, one of our hosts played 'Amazing Grace' on her violin. It wafted through the high ceiling of the living room and echoed from the hallway. It was hauntingly beautiful. Everyone paid rapt attention to her performance. I can still remember not only the beauty of the music, but the sight of those up-turned young faces looking so radiant in the firelight. They looked like angels. By the time she finished there wasn't a dry eye in the house.

When we left their house my wife and I took a short detour to the sea wall. It was a cool, clear night. There was a sky full of stars and an almost full moon hovered over the horizon. We could hear the lapping of the waves and smell the salt air. All was right with the world. We walked home hand in hand in the cool night air, down the narrow lane with the glare of the street lights muted by the live oak tree canopy. It was quite romantic. It was almost spiritual. When we got home we exchanged presents and went to bed.

The next morning we walked down to the Castillo. This is a Spanish fort, at the water's edge. It has turrets, cannons, high wide walls and a moat. Around the Castillo is a wide protective wall. We watched kids riding their new bicycles on that wall. Other kids played and rolled down the steep berm surrounding the fort. They were having a wonderful time!

My wife and I laughed. When we were kids, after Christmas we might have played in snow forts. These kids had a REAL fort to play in and on. We wondered how long it would take for these kids to grow up, remember and appreciate what an amazing thing this was that they now took for granted.