Last night in Kissimmee

Alva, Florida, United Methodist Church has returned our call, and it looks like we will be heading there tomorrow. Alva lies about three hours drive south below Lake Okeechobee and west somewhat toward Fort Myers. Though we don’t know if we will be able to see friends in that area till we come back north from the Keys.

 

Today we hung out around the coach reading, movieing, and relaxing till after lunch when we took a ride over to the Osceola County Pioneer Village.

Made up of the Bass Family homestead (citrus and cattle) which was founded about the same time as the town of Kissimmee, the county historical association has restored the remaining Bass farm buildings and brought in several other structures from other parts of Osceola County from the same time period, 1880 to 1915.

There are at least six and possibly a dozen more buildings which will be built as complete replicas of key county properties now gone using original plans, photographs and written anecdotes about them. In fact, their plots are already marked with historic story signs and site stakes.

Two years ago a group of Seminole came up from one of the Southern Florida Reservations and built authentically roofed replicas of a 19^th century Seminole village.  But they used longer lasting treated wood and factory production poles instead of fresh cut cypress or pine for the structures themselves.

I learned something important today.  I learned that  a Florida ‘cracker’ is not the same as other deep south ‘crackers’.  In the rest of the south a ‘cracker’ is synonymous with a redneck, or even a white overseer on an antebellum plantation; a whip cracker over the heads of black people.

In Florida a ‘cracker’ is a cattle or horse breeder, wrangler, or even a farm worker.  He or she cracks a whip, riding crop, or lasso to get their animals to do what they need done.  The term often gets confused between its two uses.  So the signs in this village museum which use the term ‘cracker’ are often brought into question by visitors assuming the park is being racist.  But they are only being historically correct.

 

We went back to the coach and received a message from Chad Gresh telling us they were ready to meet us for dinner at the Tex-Mex place, Chuy’s, about half way up 192 to their home.

Chuy’s has the lightest tortilla chips, and the most wonderful assortment of free salsas you can imagine.  We purchased meals (shared by couples) and the free chips and dips became the basic main course.

Then we topped off our gas tanks at the new WAWA across the street at $2.42 a gallon (WAWA’s are popping up all over Florida now) and headed to their home for a great hour or two of talking, playing with their three guinea pigs and Pixie, their Chihuahua/Dachshund pup.

Now we’re home and Mona is in bed reading, and I am typing this blog.  But I’ve got a movie to finish watching before I crawl into bed. Then tomorrow: Alva, here we come!

-Ken