Jun 1
2009

When I think of Old Florida, I think of Steve Robertson. When I drive down 301 past the old roadside motels shaped like an L so every room could have a tropical breeze, I think of Steve. When I stop by the Orange Shop in Citra, Florida and buy orange marmalade and sweet Vidalia dressing, I think of Coach. When I float in the ocean, down the Sante Fe or in one of Florida’s natural springs, I think of Summer and Sunny’s Papa. He was quintessential old Florida and loved the state that defined him. He’s bullfrogs in the evening; he’s an afternoon thunderstorm in August that provides relief from the stifling heat; he’s every fish ever caught by anyone who loves life on the water. Let’s celebrate the man who taught us to embrace where we are, where we are going and where we’ve been; a vibrant and intentional life as beautiful as Old Florida itself.

-Vanessa Wells