COLUMN: Reminiscences from a west Destin snob

If Destin had a railroad, I’d live on the wrong side of the tracks. As a long-time resident, growing up, raising a family, and retiring here, I’ve become an insufferable proponent of all things long ago.

I live in a creaky old house built in the ’60s.  Like the city itself, my humble domicile never anticipated the complications of technology.

The phone and TV goes out when it rains; I have to use a screwdriver to fix my Internet connection; and there are too few outlets for all the electronic gadgets of modern living.

But I wouldn’t trade my house with its mice in the attic for one of those palaces further east. I have made peace with the spirit who dwells in my pool, rippling the water when not a breath of air is stirring. She was a young swim champion who lived in the house before me, but ironically drowned in the Gulf many years ago. I don’t mind sharing the cool water with her on a hot day.  I live on Kelly Street, not Kelly Plantation, and my neighborhood streets bear names such as Stahlman, Marler, Calhoun, Zerbe, and Reddin Brunson Road — all honoring early pioneers.

I was OK as long as the development was to the east and left my little west-side world untouched. Now I’m surrounded by progress almost in my own backyard, and I whine about it every chance I get.

Call me a reverse snob or an ignorant redneck. Wait! Never mind the redneck epithet.  I just remembered I affectionately referred to us Florida Panhandle residents as rednecks in a column two years ago, and I got indignant hate mail from a reader who enlightened me in my dimwittedness. Seems the new Destin is now populated by wealthy sophisticates with too much social refinement to be thus labeled.

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Stay tuned to The Destin History Project this weekend as we roll out our Progress Edition, "Destination Incorporation." In it we are chronicling the city's 25th anniversary in words and pictures

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Some Saturdays, I sit among the friendly ghosts of Destin’s past at the History and Fishing Museum. I glance out the windows and cringe when I see the Tower of Babel glaring back at me.  I miss the modest beach cottages, quaint family-owned motels, mom and pop retail stores, and groceries being home delivered by a teenager on his bicycle.

I miss the only doctor we had for a long time, his office in a tacky green building down by the old Kelly Docks. Doc Odom’s practice specialty was removing fish hooks from the flesh of unlucky deck hands and tourists.

I miss the Green Knight who stood guard at the corner of Main Street and Highway 98, marking the official end of the town limits. Beyond him lay only a few scattered cottages, the Spy Glass Inn, and a small gas station or two all the way to Panama City. I miss the Blue Room and Jewel Melvin’s restaurant, two places for wonderful seafood and down-home atmosphere. And gone are the days when the Wharf Restaurant served up a basket of shrimp, fish, fries, and hush puppies for a dollar.

Most of all, I miss old friends — mostly former members of my 55-year-old church — who have moved away from what Destin has become over the last 25 years. As church clerk, I see their numbers dwindle from the roll, and I am sad. But I understand why they seek in another place what Destin used to be.

I’m not going anywhere. I voted against becoming a city, yet I am absolutely loyal to Destin’s well-being. So, I’ll put up with the traffic, those insane round-abouts, the loss of old landmarks, and the over development because I love this place.
Admittedly, I’m a dinosaur facing extinction.

When I was younger, I enjoyed watching the exciting changes all around me. Now, I resent it when my favorite product is no longer on the market or the color of the package has changed. I hate to see ancient trees cut down and old homes leveled to be replaced by cookie cutter houses.

No one and no institution can hold back change. We have only to watch the news reports from Iran to know that. In my head, I know that change is good. In my heart, I hold on fiercely to the past when life seemed so simple and gentle by contemporary comparison.
Our 35th President John Kennedy said, “Change is the law of life. And those who look only to the past …are certain to miss the future.”

I guess he was thinking of me.

Mary Ready of Destin is a twice-retired English teacher and long-time area resident. Her columns are published on Saturdays.