The ebb and flow of population

It's been quiet here in Paradise the past week or so. What am I saying? It's always quiet here, anything exciting would be out of the norm. This is the time of year when our northern friends, the Snowbirds, start trickling in for the winter season. Most won't be here until mid-November. Our (okay... "my") problem is remembering their names. The faces will be familiar but the names will stay hidden away in the dark, musty, regions of my memory.

The first Snowbird I ever met was a boy my age back when I was ten. His name was (is, I guess) Richard Voight. He and his mother would come down each winter to stay at a house just down the block from mine. We had friends in common, classes in common, and interests in common. His father, who I believe was an attorney, would spend a few days each month with his family.

Before we moved to south Florida, we couldn't come down for the winter. We couldn't afford it. My father's bicycle shop was not all that profitable. Financial circumstances dictated that we would be year round residents. I am glad we picked Florida instead of staying in New York.

Most of my Snowbird friends will eventually move here permanently. They'll get tired of dealing with two houses and the treks back and forth, and decide it'd be better to live down here than go back to dealing with northern winters. Not all. Some will continue to go back and forth and a tiny number will stay up north year round.

When I was young and stupid and thought I would be rich (this was before I realized I lacked the ambition), I thought it would be nice to spend each season in a different region. Now that I am older and wiser (or lazier), I don't think I would like to move every few months. I wouldn't even like moving twice a year.

I appreciate the Snowbirds more than they know. They are the people who make our economy work. The money they spend in the winter sustains our businesses through the rest of the year. I try to remember this as I am stuck behind them in traffic or waiting a half hour for a table in a restaurant that had been empty all summer long. I suspect I won't be successful.

Thinking about Ricky, I wonder if he ever found out I used his name as an alias many times when I was stopped by the police?