Remembering my wonderful friend Jan (from Media Beverly)
Thinking Back to a Time When.... (an article written by Jan Hughes for the Island Newsletter)
I was raised on Hypoluxo Island in the fifties and sixties – and it was a great place to grow up. There were not that many houses here back then, and lots of empty lots where all the kids would play for hours on end, in the huge banyan trees, in mangroves searching for crabs along the western shore, in what was then a scrub of a park at McKinley Park.
I remember my cousin Gaye, who lived at 510 S. E. Atlantic, calling me to come play. It was raining cats and dogs on the west side, where I lived at 505 S. W. Atlantic, and I said so. She wasn’t getting any rain at all – it was that kind of tropical, densely treed kind of place!
We all used to play flashlight tag in Mrs. White’s backyard, and then go careening off on our bicycles over the bridge to the 7-11 for a Frosty, or some such treat. There didn’t seem to be any worries back then about kids being safe – everybody knew one another, and if you weren’t in your own backyard, you were certainly close by in someone else’s! The houses were situated beautifully on the lots too – no matter where you lived, you knew you were on an island – with typical Florida homes and foliage and water everywhere; we would chase sandpipers and look for manta rays, which we used to see quite a bit, especially while crossing the bridge. We used to ride our bikes to Lantana Elementary – even then it seemed to have millions of portable classrooms! I especially loved Fried Chicken day, but invariably I ended up with the backs and necks – never the legs or thighs! Didn’t matter where I stood in line, I ALWAYS got the backs and necks!
Back then, we were considered crazy to live on this island – it was overrun with bobcats, raccoons, and so many birds my father couldn’t take a nap in the afternoon because of their loud squawking. We had one very strange orange tree in our backyard left over from the original orchard which covered this island back when my father arrived in 1915 or so. It was a grafted grapefuit and orange we think – it was SO sour. However, my father used to have me climb the tree and pull down the fruit, toss it in the pool where it would float to the other side, and he would pull it out and slice it for drinks with all his golfing buddies sitting around the pool! Quite a system he had going! My grandfather continued the orchard tradition in the lot he owned across from his house – now 320 SW Atlantic. The picture shows that lot behind me (inside my father’s boat) with my mother and my grandmother standing in front. The original stucco and red brick walls my grandfather built are still standing, albeit somewhat less upright after all these years.
I will always love this wonderful island and I continue to cherish every moment I am able to spend here.
