Per your request, time for another Walton County story. "The Opinion Place," an open air gazebo located on DeFuniak Springs' downtown main street, Baldwin Avenue, wasn't always called by that name. The current spot is named after a late wonderful guy who raised a family that has always been an important part of the area's history. The sons, one of whom is a true FL Gator, were the hearththrobs of every little girl who ever put a toe into the Gulf of Mexico down at Grayton Beach. 
But I digress...
In earlier days, the older gents of the town would congregate on these rickety old uncovered benches to gossip, while the business of a small agricultural town took place on Saturday mornings. (They were not the gazebo and aromatherapy types, no strangers to a John Deere tractor cap and a manly body odor.) We knew that Lake DeFuniak was home to the occasional gator
:eek, because you could sometimes see a baby gator sunning on a floating tree limb or shallow spot in the Lake or even a muddy bank, and you could hear a gator bellow sometimes at night. The unconfirmed rumor was that the gators learned to bark so as to attract dogs, which then became a meal. As children, we knew this was an old wives tale concocted to keep us out of the Lake Yard after dark. We did know there was one old and large gator that had lived in the Lake for years, but he was seldom seen. On very rare occasions, you could sometimes see his head sticking out of the water or see a portion of his back as he floated along on the surface of the Lake.
One hot summer Saturday just before noon, the old gator decided to take a stroll into town. (Maybe suffering from some gator dementia, gator Alzheimer's, or just a yen for a hot dog from the Hot Dog Stand, where his length could have been easily accommodated between the bar stools and the large Co-Cola ice locker next to the far wall.
or 
...who knew? He probably wouldn't have even been noticed at the combo Taxi Stand/Pool Hall next door.) On that hot Saturday noon, Mr. Gator hauled his girth across Circle Drive and over the S&L Railroad tracks, up the hill to Baldwin Avenue---right behind what we called the "Lazy Men's Corner." When that old gator strolled through the Lazy Men's Corner, Baldwin Avenue looked like an explosion of an overalls factory. Those guys had not moved that fast in decades. But the gator just moved on through at a majestically slow pace. He knew that he was a native with inalienable rights, I suppose.
We never did know where the gator was headed to or where he went from there. Gators were a fact of life; it was Florida, for goodness sakes. We didn't have CNN or Fox News or Animal Planet as documentarians for trivial news stories. But we had enough sense to leave a big gator alone when he decided to leave the water. The closest thing we had to news in DeFuniak was the "Playground News" as a paper and the Channel 4 Farm Report from Dothan, AL. Those were the days!
Have a great week, friends!
But I digress...In earlier days, the older gents of the town would congregate on these rickety old uncovered benches to gossip, while the business of a small agricultural town took place on Saturday mornings. (They were not the gazebo and aromatherapy types, no strangers to a John Deere tractor cap and a manly body odor.) We knew that Lake DeFuniak was home to the occasional gator
:eek, because you could sometimes see a baby gator sunning on a floating tree limb or shallow spot in the Lake or even a muddy bank, and you could hear a gator bellow sometimes at night. The unconfirmed rumor was that the gators learned to bark so as to attract dogs, which then became a meal. As children, we knew this was an old wives tale concocted to keep us out of the Lake Yard after dark. We did know there was one old and large gator that had lived in the Lake for years, but he was seldom seen. On very rare occasions, you could sometimes see his head sticking out of the water or see a portion of his back as he floated along on the surface of the Lake.One hot summer Saturday just before noon, the old gator decided to take a stroll into town. (Maybe suffering from some gator dementia, gator Alzheimer's, or just a yen for a hot dog from the Hot Dog Stand, where his length could have been easily accommodated between the bar stools and the large Co-Cola ice locker next to the far wall.
or ...who knew? He probably wouldn't have even been noticed at the combo Taxi Stand/Pool Hall next door.) On that hot Saturday noon, Mr. Gator hauled his girth across Circle Drive and over the S&L Railroad tracks, up the hill to Baldwin Avenue---right behind what we called the "Lazy Men's Corner." When that old gator strolled through the Lazy Men's Corner, Baldwin Avenue looked like an explosion of an overalls factory. Those guys had not moved that fast in decades. But the gator just moved on through at a majestically slow pace. He knew that he was a native with inalienable rights, I suppose.We never did know where the gator was headed to or where he went from there. Gators were a fact of life; it was Florida, for goodness sakes. We didn't have CNN or Fox News or Animal Planet as documentarians for trivial news stories. But we had enough sense to leave a big gator alone when he decided to leave the water. The closest thing we had to news in DeFuniak was the "Playground News" as a paper and the Channel 4 Farm Report from Dothan, AL. Those were the days!
Have a great week, friends!
