keepitsimple

The other day I listened to my friend, Theodora Moorehead, describe a painting on the
wall of her bar, Mooie’s. It shows a simple wood frame house, some stone ruins and a person
up in a genip tree. “That’s the way this all was along here,” she explained, “all sand, no taxi
stand there, no buildings there.” She swept her hand toward Wharfside Village. So I looked
closely at the painting by Ezio Marsh, which is sweetly primitive and goes a long way toward
evoking the simple life of times gone by.

There are two women in the scene, which is actually the view from in front of the bar, circa
1960. The women are conservatively clad in long dresses and are wearing their favorite straw
hats. They appear to be chatting, perhaps waiting for some fisherman to come along and offer
to share some of his catch. Two children, a boy and a girl, are happily playing marbles. The
fellow in the genip tree is picking the tasty fruit that hangs in abundance from every branch. A
red rooster is running from some unseen menace.

Theo explained that the stone walls are not Danish ruins, but actually the remains of an
unfinished house. She led me outside to show me the skyscraping cocoanut palm and genip,
still growing and producing fruit on the shoreline, across the street. The ruined walls have been
made into a real estate office and a jewelry store. The wood frame house is gone, replaced by
a monument to commercialism.

Like the trees, the women are still around, however, old, remainders of a culture nearly
obliterated. The children, seen playing in the dirt, are adults, now. They’re parents themselves,
business-owners maybe. And I look back at the painting on the wall and reflect on the total lack
of any sign of commerce. There are no signs, no display windows, no tourist crap offered up
for sale.

Earlier the same day, I was in a discussion about the need for a city planner, a town council,
and the pros and cons of various plans for a venders’ plaza, a new Post Office and a parking
garage. One sensible suggestion revolved around the need for a new, safe, functioning school
complex. Someone was describing a “guest teacher” experience he’d recently had. He’d asked
the kids in one class, what would you like to see most to improve your school? First, immediate,
answer: toilet paper! Second: bathrooms that aren’t flooded all the time. And, third: books. Ah,
some books. Yes, the very thing for a school!

So, there I sat, looking at the simple scene painted on the wall and then beyond to the bustle of
the taxis, trucks and air-conditioned SUVs passing by. And, I wondered: could any Civic
Planner change the course of events? Could we somehow create a working downtown that isn’t
controlled by greed? Could those kids kindly get some toilet paper and books?

- Jeff Smith