Guest Columnist
I still enjoy singing "We are the Boys from Old Florida," not because I attended the University of Florida (UF), but because I have always been a Florida boy. I was born and raised in the Sunshine State and returned here as my Air Force career was winding down. My roots are firmly planted in Florida sand.
I was born in the Okeechobee region. Actually, I was born in Arcadia, the seat of Desoto County; otherwise known as a "cow town." That was the most accessible hospital to my parent's home in Moore Haven on the west side of the lake. Remember the old state licensing system before 1972 where the first set of numerals represented the population rank of each county according to the 1940 census? Dade was one; Duval was two; Madison was 35; and 67 (of 67) was Glades, my first home. If you think Madison is rural, imagine tiny Glades County where the county seat was smaller than Greenville!
By the time I was a year old, Dad had been transferred to Gainesville by his employer, the US Department of Agriculture. Except for short stints in Lakeland and Raleigh, N.C., Gainesville was my home until I turned 18 and departed for points west and a military career. As I was finishing high school, Steve Spurrier was the Gators’ quarterback.
A lot of my friends question my southern lineage because "I don't talk right." Can't help that; I've never had much of an accent. Linguists with a trained ear can pick up just a hint of a southern drawl, but laymen cannot. Typically, they place me from somewhere in the Midwest like Iowa. That's OK – my birth certificate is both original and official.
Now, my Dad was the root of my southern lineage – he arrived from Nebraska in 1926 at the age of six with his family. The Boyles were a farm family who raised livestock, first in Clay County and then, Suwannee. As a boy, I spent a lot of time on my grandparents’ farm about five miles southeast of Live Oak. It was a place of great adventure as well as tortuous chores for a young boy. Thinking back, I learned a lot on that small farm.
My mother is the source of my "Yankee blood." She was born and raised in Kansas. So how did Florida and Kansas meet? It happened on a blind date in Tulsa, Okla. on Jan. 2, 1943. My father was an Army officer (recently graduated from UF and ROTC) and Mother was a single mom with two children working in the Douglas Aircraft factory. That minor event known as World War II mixed up a lot of family bloodlines. My parents came from completely different backgrounds but, as the saying goes, "love conquers all."
I came along in 1948 and being the first boy was a really big deal. My mother was one of two daughters and the first four grandchildren were all girls. Then I broke the mold.
I've often said that my two best history and civics teachers were my parents. As I traveled across Florida as a boy with my dad, we'd often stop for another lesson on Florida's colorful history – the Dade Battlefield, Arcadia stockyards, Fort Barrancas, the Edison home, the Four Freedoms Monument St. Augustine, etc. I was instilled with the pride of being a Floridian, and I'm proud to say that I’ve never lost it. Even living in the middle of the state, we visited the beaches a lot to enjoy swimming and fishing in both the Atlantic and Gulf of Mexico.
One of the things I appreciate so much about Madison is that it is "the heart of old Florida." I once suggested that that should be our community's motto. Florida has changed during my lifetime so much, from a population of barely three million tomore than 21, a factor of seven. The Florida of yesteryear is best symbolized by Madison. The character of our community has remained unchanged and represents both a blessing and challenge in modern times.
Back in those days of my youth, we didn't know much about the sun's damaging effect on human skin and had very little to protect us. Our homes were un-air conditioned and we spent a lot of time outside in the heat of day playing. Sunburn was frequent and I am paying the price seven decades later. I wish we knew then what we know now.