Stacey Seaside

Going “home” requires a 24-hour journey.

Almost four decades in Greece but in my heart, “home” will always be the USA.

Regular transatlantic winter crossings began for me in 2006.

First it was Chicago and its subzero suburbs.

Then Clearwater Beach Florida–not subzero but sunny and simmering with light and warmth.

It became routine to travel in February.

At Christmas everyone was tied up with heapfuls of activities and holidazing.

February was a good break before the season in Mykonos started to churn.

February? I must be in Florida.

But not this year.

President’s Day prompts perspective

President’s Day celebrations passed on Monday and I found myself contemplating the holiday with melancholy.

Politics aside–for the moment at least, because I do not shy away from telling people I am a Bluetiful Democrat–celebrating the holiday dedicated to US presidents in February means

I am in the F state

–Florida.

Years back it meant visiting my Dad. Now it means a brief stay with my brother, informal family reunions with the 18 Koukas Kosinz and trapsing about the sunshine state with my gal pals from college.

The F state is my second home.

Clearwater Beach to be exact.

Fear not, Mykonos remains number 1.

I have actually lived on the island more than I have lived anywhere else.

Florida ranks second because of countless family vacations spent on the road between suburban Chicago and Clearwater Beach, FLA.

F state becomes “home”

My father discovered Florida when my brother and I were about 9 years old. Every Christmas and Easter following that initial trip we made the 24 hour ,1200-mile track through blizzards to sunshine and saltwater.

For the later part of my childhood and teens, every Christmas and Easter was spent soaking up sunshine and sea salt on the sand at Clearwater Beach, facing the Gulf of Mexico.

To offer historical perspective on the Clearwater destination, I had the good fortune to have aunts and uncles who picked this place as their winter escape from frigid northern winters back in the 60s. Visiting family triggered the bi-annual pilgrimages south, often facing snow and ice on the interstate, as Mom, Dad, Paul and I travelled to the sun.

Each of us had our own agendas: my Dad looked forward to being out on the boat fishing with my uncles, my Mom looked forward to great catch-ups with her sisters and my brother and I were beach bums (I would however occasionally lose him to fishing.)

The two-day road trip from suburban Chicago led us to the Causeway that led us over the Inter-coastal and on to the beach. I couldn’t wait to catch that first glimpse of the water and the palm trees that adorned the roadside. We would often arrive just as the sun was being swallowed by the sea in the Gulf-it was a magical arrival-a warm glowing embrace welcoming us back.

Full family migration to sunshine

Eventually, my parents purchased a second home in Florida (and a third and a fourth). As I grew older I took other independent trips, to address number 2, always feeling the comfortable embrace of escaping to the sea and the sun.

In the decades that have past, my brother and Chicago cousins have also migrated south–mostly to Clearwater Beach. Northerly cousins can be bumped into on the water–literally four of them have their own boats. When they say, “let’s have lunch,” they literally hop in their boats and head down the intercoastal to food and drink venues on the water, complete with boat slips “to park your vehicle!”

Heart valve replacement prompts FLA return

Florida in February happened by heart valve replacement. Living in Mykonos full time you are not exactly sun and sea deprived so a beach destination when you want to see family and friends is not the priority. I had been in Florida in 2000–complete with ex, sons, Mom, Dad, brother Paul and family to celebrate the onset of the Millenium. We even spent a week at Disneyworld.

In 2016 Dad was having a procedure done and he was in Florida, so I detoured south. Happy to say that Dad got through the procedure like a star at 86. A few years later, with a quality of active life to be envied by anyone, he went to sleep one December night and never woke.

After 2016, Dad was the excuse to travel there annually. He had moved to Florida full time and given up his snowbird status. My brother would join me on those visits as well as my gal pals from college. It became my annual pilgrimage “home.”

On that initial return, after having been away for 16 years, I drove through main streets and coastal paths. The names greeted me like old friends-Gulf-to-Bay, Druid, Missouri, Mandalay and Cleveland. There were many changes of course since my childhood journeys. There is no longer a Maas Brothers-a grand Floridian department store similar to Marshall Fields, the Fort Harrison Hotel, and most of the downtown area has been annexed by the Scientologists. On the beach 10 and 20 story modernistic hotels climb to the sky daring to touch the clouds and of course there are more people. A lot more people and a lot more traffic. Crossing the causeway at the wrong time of day could mean a crawl that lasts an hour and a half to cover 2 miles. There have been changes in traffic design to assist in helping vehicles to move more smoothly, but when the volume is great it becomes mission impossible.

Not just a walk on the beach

The beach, however, remains miles of soft white sand, almost the consistency and smoothness of confectioners’ sugar. It is no accident that it has been awarded America’s Best Beach. And although I cannot swim in the Gulf-seems that the fine quality of the sand tends to make the water opaque. For me, spoiled by the crystal sea of Mykonos, well, I just can’t swim someplace where I can’t see down to the bottom whether I am in a foot or five feet of water.

The walks on the beach and to the beach are to die for. I get a daily dosage happily walking the causeway from my brother’s place on Island Estates to the beach. Funky beach bars and restos, like The Palm Pavilion, that I have been shelling out cash to since I was 12, as well as some slightly newer arrivals on the white sand beach keep it fun. Even with tight traffic, it remains beautiful, fresh and welcoming. And it is always a treat to come back to so many people—particularly my family who always make me really feel welcome and at home.

And that, more than anything else, is why it is “home.”

When we gather informally, we talk about the present but often our conversations flow back to the past of our childhoods. We reminisce about stories of our long-gone parents. We organize food outings together–usually at some Greek food venue–in homage to all those family dinners and our Mykonian heritage. And a couple of times we have ended up at local Greek festivals as I have a younger cousin who is a great musician–Demitri and the Islanders. He manages with his performances to get us all up on our feet and dancing.

And Facebook keeps reminding me memory after daily memory or two or ten–I was in Florida 12 years ago, 7 years ago, 5 years ago, last year.

So it is February.

But this year, I am in Mykonos.

Why am I not writing this post from Florida?

Why am I not in Florida?

I asked myself that question a week or so back when I was wearing a winter coat, Scottish wool scarf and gloves because the weather was abominable. The only saving factor was that it didn’t snow! Otherwise, the weather has been superbly cooperative in Mykonos this winter—I even swam today.

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Initially a housing redo was in the works along with a few other independent projects related to work as well as philanthropy. And more international travel is planned for both the summer and the autumn that will deplete the 2024 travel budget.

Not going home hasn’t been bad.

I have made a few trips to the Acropolis Metropolis. In the name of Medical tourism!

Once upon a time we travelled to have adventures in exotic or challenging locations that may have involved a gorgeous guy. Following that we had professional travel obligations for conferences, presentations and merchandise shows for those of us in retail. And today it means medical tourism! We head off the island for examinations and testing that cannot be done on the island or because our medical practitioner is located on the mainland.

I will be heading back to Athens soon enough for duty and fun with the non-profits I belong to. AWOGreece will celebrate women’s month in March. The organization empowers women and creates bridges or friendship and culture among Expat gals as well as donating funds to Greek charities. And my political life blood–Democrats Abroad Greece–assisting all US citizens to vote from outside US borders continues with events, making a blue effort to keep “home” from becoming the United States of TRUMP.

But that doesn’t make up for missing my family and friends this year. Even if we are connected through social media and do regular video chats, it is just not the same as getting together in Tarpon, or a Greek Festival or at Pat and Tom’s.

Florida is definitely scheduled for a future February.

Florida is in my past and my present, even if only through Facebook memories for the moment!

My folks in the F-state know who they are and how much I have missed them. And I hope to see some of them here in Mykonos soon.