Sticks of Fire: a Tampa blog

The Humane Society did some research on America’s 25 largest metropolitan areas to determine which areas are the most humane to animals.

The Humane Index ranked the cities in each of twelve categories. Tampa ranked fairly well on the Humane Index, tying Baltimore for 8th place; that puts us ahead of our nearest neighbors Atlanta (#11) and Miami (#20).

Categorically, Tampa Bay fared best in:

• citizen advocacy (#4)
• lack of fur shops (#3 - I know what you’re thinking: although admittedly more fashion-centric, warmer Miami ranked #17)
• number of establishments supporting the boycott of Canadian seafood due to seal clubbing (a mouthful, #3)

Some areas of concern:

• Cage-free egg options (#24)
• Pet store “puppies in windows” (#22)
• Government support for humane laws (#18)

On that last account, here’s how our current local congresspeople fared on the Humane Society Legislative Fund’s Scorecard of the 109th Congress:

• Ginny Brown-Waite - 28 out of 100
• Adam Putnam - 14
• C.W. Bill Young - 70
• Mel Martinez - 40
• Bill Nelson - 80

Places like the Humane Society of Tampa Bay - which in 2006 ran on over 12,000 volunteer hours - help foster a humane environment for animals with or without legislative assistance.

There are countless things you can do to keep Tampa Bay humane - volunteer, adopt a pet, donate money, report animal neglect or abuse. At the very least we can congratulate all those who’ve worked so hard to keep Tampa Bay humane - it’s nice to have a measure of pride in your city for something.

I’ll thank my coworker/HSTB volunteer in person tomorrow; for all those I won’t see tomorrow, I’ll take this opportunity to say good work!

Joe Redner won a chance at a runoff against incumbent Gwen Miller. For the first time in his many attempts at reaching public office, Redner seems to stand a decent chance of winning.

Common sense wins over prudishness, right?

For one, consider the competition - Miller has accomplished the seemingly redundant challenge of being an unimpressive city council member. That’s hardly an attractive trait for the few who care enough to vote.

So Redner would seem the perfect antidote to nothing. He’s worked tirelessly - though up to this point fruitlessly - for years to affect change in the city. He’s more than happy to show you what’s in his pockets, namely a lack of developers. He talks about the need for mass transit and controlled development - he even sounds halfway intelligent when talking about it.

But ideas do not a complete candidate make. Public office will always require the ability to find compromise with others who disagree with you; that ability requires you not incite others to lunge chairs at you, among other things.

Even if Redner did not provoke that type of action from other council members or the city’s population, his controversial business ventures could very well be the context for each and every issue he brings to the table.

Don’t for a minute think that a Redner win would be a mandate to ignore the Mons - a Redner win would more likely be a sum of Miller’s blank slate plus low turnout. One need only look at very recent news in Tampa and surrounding areas to know that this area is not yet ready to embrace anything like a progressive outlook.

What supporters of Redner’s ideas need to consider is that Redner could potentially hurt his and their cause rather than move it forward.

It may sound unfair and disheartening that Redner’s controversial but legal dealings could keep him from being an effective council member, but that may not even be the point. The bigger obstacle for Redner success may be that he’s not a good candidate.

(Disclosure: I make no judgment on whether Redner is at least a better candidate than Miller because that’s not my thing, but also because as a Temple Terrace resident, my opinion is electorally inconsequential. But because a majority of my non-sleeping hours are spent in Tampa limits, I feel I have a perfectly good reason to care. However sad the choices may be, I suggest Tampa residents care all the more and pick someone.)

For those that lost count, here is reason #298,921 - give or take - why your vote counts, from almost exactly two years ago:

With 219 more votes, Mary Gray Black edged out Gigi Arntzen to win a seat on the Largo City Commission on Tuesday.

For those just joining us, Mary Gray Black was the commissioner that called a meeting ultimately leading to a recommendation that Steve Stanton be fired from his role as city manager.

Black received 1,277 votes in that election. At the time of the election Largo had 44,517 registered voters. The total population of the city was roughly 72,000.

That means less than 3 percent of registered voters, and less than 2 percent of the city’s residents, put Mary Gray Black into the commissioner’s chair from which she decided a special meeting was necessary to debate Steve Stanton’s ability to do a job he’d be doing well for 14 years - a job for which he was rewarded with a raise just last year.

I guarantee that a large majority of those 1,277 voters are nodding their heads right now, fully aware and proud of the power of their vote.

Does this meeting not happen without Black? In light of Largo’s political lean and only two dissenting votes to the recommendation, I cannot guarantee that. Then again we in Hillsborough County know quite well the effect one crusading commissioner can have on a whole government institution.

And if your defense is, “I didn’t think she would ever do anything like this,” I can find proof of at least one Largo resident that did - a letter written to the Times by Janice Josiphine Carney almost exactly two years ago:

Mary Gray Black based her whole campaign on taking away any antidiscrimination protections for these people.

With her weapon being the Bible, who will she go after next?

We have an answer.

The Tampa Bay Devil Rays‘ marketing slogan for the upcoming season is “More Than Just a Game.”

A closer look at the marketing strategy - no quotes added to the quote:

Team officials said they have organized their marketing campaign this season into five “pillars”: baseball magic, family fun, regionalism, becoming a “community pillar” and being “sharp.”

More than just a “game.”

The term “baseball magic” troubled me, particularly with it being one of the few phrases outside of quotes. It makes more sense however when you note that the Rays’ vice president of marketing was recruited from Walt Disney World.

So what other magic can we expect this year?

• 7th inning stretch replaced by parade, expanded to each half-inning
• Bullpen replaced by animatronics, spun-off into full-length motion picture
• Angels in the outfield, or at least around BJ Upton’s glove
• Concession items become that much more expensive
• Team name changed to Mighty Rays (or Devil Rays and Max Devlin, for the unfortunate few that will catch that dubious bit of pop culture)
• A boycott from the Southern Baptist Convention

Now that we’re through with that unpleasantness, what do you think of the Rays’ chances this year? The team, not the marketing strategy.

Editor’s note: Because of some technical difficulty, photos referenced in this post are unable to show right now. We hope to add them in the very near future, but for now, all photos are posted at the In Theory Blog.

“It was close.”

That’s what the fireman said, though he didn’t need to say.

I knew it was close.

That’s my home on the left.

My neighbors to the right fortunately escaped alive and unharmed, though they lost three cats and most of their possessions - the news reports said the damage was estimated at $200,000. The night before they had sat down to their first meal on their new dining table in their newly remodeled home.

The picture actually makes it seem worse than it was for us. The fire never went beyond the charred siding upstairs. The screen patio melted in most parts, but the contents were mostly unharmed.

That wooden easel, a birthday present from me to my wife before we were married, was on a table on the side of the patio nearest where the fire likely started. The canvas that was on it at the time caught fire, which I put out with a garden hose (before the police shooed me away). Beyond the slight charring, the moving parts are working.

On the inside the carpet downstairs - which we had planned on replacing within a year - was soaked from the water used by the firefighters next door - the water came through the walls and into the carpet. We eventually decided vacuuming was useless - we emptied the water in our shop vac about 12 times before we finally tore it out.

The walls were starting to show signs of water damage today. The smell of smoke was not getting better, which likely means there’s a decent collection of soot in the walls. For that reason I’m writing this tonight from the home of my in-laws, who have been kind enough to take us in for now.

But it was close, close to being far worse. Sixty percent of the time this has been enough for me to maintain a perspective nearly of celebration. As time grows away from the incident and further into displacement and insurance morass however my don’t quite feel like I’m all that lucky.

We’ve been living in that house for all of three months. Just last week friends of ours gave us a bookshelf, which allowed us to empty all but three of the remaining boxes from the move. I had plans to repaint the master bathroom in a week. My wife had just put up new curtains in the master bedroom. Now we’re thinking about new drywall and flooring, several steps backward, under a timetable which we cannot control.

The picture on the top snaps me back into a healthier perspective, which leads to a natural question: what did we do to deserve a break which our neighbors didn’t catch?

Then I look at this:

Within three hours after my wife and I ran out the door, I saw these posted on over a dozen doors across the street. A neighbor down the road put the signs up; within an hour after I saw the signs he came to my door and my neighbor’s door and their neighbor’s door on the other side with money, a significant amount for just a few hours.

But it wasn’t just that. While we watched our roof, hoping to not see smoke rising from it, we were offered water, hot tea, coffee, socks, shoes, bathrooms, showers, couches and an inordinate amount of good wishes. I saw people crowd around our overcome neighbors to block the local news cameras. I saw a pastor from a church about two miles away ask what could be done.

It was close, though I know that refers mostly to replaceable possessions. At least everyone was okay would obviously be the most appropriate perspective, especially in light of another fire on the same day just four miles away in which two people died.

What has been most overwhelming through all of this has been the extraordinary kindness of nearly everyone I have spoken to since it all happened (I’m forced to use nearly thanks to our property manager, but that’s for a later post).

No matter the condition of anyone’s property, I don’t think there can be a greater justification for pushing through whatever is ahead than the knowledge that humanity - certainly at least Temple Terrace - is capable of such, well, humanity.

With stricter passport rules that went into effect Tuesday for air travel, all the discussion has been centered on who will gain and lose the most with the new restrictions.

This of course stems from the likely true assumption that getting a passport will prove too much of a hassle for many people.

Indeed the six-week average to receive a new passport will put a damper on last-minute getaways, but now would be a great opportunity to facilitate future impromptu travels by getting a passport.

According to the US Department of State’s travel site, there are 19 places within 25 miles of 33602 (downtown Tampa) to get a passport.

I got mine several years ago at the Ehrlich Post Office on North Dale Mabry and found the experience to be refreshingly easy. I did probably spend about fifteen minutes in line (still short by DMV standards), and I had to shell out $97, but as long as you’re 16 or older your passport is good for ten years. After that you can renew it by mail for a lower cost.

Those that enjoy a good Caribbean cruise (besides those to US territories exempt from the new rules) have another year to get a passport, giving you even less of an excuse.

Of course you could always take your chances with Homeland Security, but I wouldn’t recommend it.

A video game, a six-foot tall Russian, 25,945 screaming people, honking horns on the Gandy Bridge - these are the things necessary to turn a Caribbean-born fifteen-year old boy into a full-blooded hockey fanatic.

Here’s how much I knew about ice and such when I first moved to the States when I was six: when I experienced my first winter in Miami, I stared out the window waiting for the first snowflakes to fall. My mother talked me away from the cool glass, explaining that the mid-fifties simply weren’t going to be enough to produce snow.

By the time I learned that winter was just a mythical thing that drove people to Miami, I also learned to love the Dolphins and Marlins - both local sports teams, both common marine animals, both common losers.

Moving to Tampa in 1993 meant no losing baseball team - no team at all. The football team was actually worse, with worse uniforms to boot (sorry, Bucco Bruce apologists).

But there was also the Lightning. They were lousy too, but the sport they played was just strange enough to pique my interest. And thanks to EA’s NHL ‘94 video game, I eventually learned the rules.

Still it rarely moved beyond video game obsession. It was difficult to follow a sport no one cared about - there was exactly one classmate of mine who cared about hockey (he played). And the Lightning still stunk (Some disclosure however: I rooted for the Florida Panthers over the Bolts at first, purely because of the Miami connection. As I grew happier about Tampa, I got over it.).

Then came April 21, 1996. My brother took me to the Lightning’s first ever home playoff game.

It was the greatest sporting event I’ve ever attended. Every second of the game was breathtaking; I say that not to be cliche, but because lack of oxygen might explain why I don’t remember a second of the actual game before Alexander Selivanov (in case you’re wondering, he’s been playing in Germany) scored the game winner in overtime. 5-4 over the Philadelphia Flyers.

I do remember every second after the goal. I remember high-fiving every one of the 25.944 other people in attendance - some of them were Flyers fans, but I didn’t mind. I remember one obnoxious Flyer fan getting a beer bath from one not terribly sporting Lightning fan. I remember helping my brother honk the horn at every other honking car from the ThunderDome all the way over the Gandy Bridge and well into Tampa.

This was winning; this was hockey. I was hooked. Nevermind that no other game has ever been like that. Nevermind that the Bolts have lost every playoff game I’ve seen them play since then (good thing I missed Game 7 against the Calgary Flames, huh?).

Thanks to that game, I happily count the Tampa Bay Lightning as my favorite sports franchise and hockey as my favorite spectator sport, despite the fact that I can’t even ice skate.

Naturally it’s now your turn - what’s your greatest Tampa sports memory? You know what to do.

The Tampa City Council last week proposed the idea of a citywide ban on people convicted of some types of sexually-related crimes. The legality of such a ban is already under question (though we should at least be thankful that the Council bothered to ask first).

The bigger problem here however is the compromised response in both society and government to these criminals.

Within the judicial and correctional system sexual offenders receive veritably equal treatment. Yet once these people have paid their “debt to society”, the sexual offender - particularly the one guilty of victimizing children - is not returned the equal amount of rights given to any other citizen. Car thieves are not forced to become part of a registry; as far as I know they can live next door to a dealership if they so choose.

Clearly paying a debt is not all we want for these people. We believe them to be a constant threat necessary of monitoring.

Then why let them go at all? Clearly our correctional system is not about rehabilitation. Clearly we don’t believe that a few years in the clink is sufficient punishment to deter these people from committing a crime once more.

If we are going to treat a sexual offender like any other convicted criminal, then we must be willing to restore their rights like we do any other convicted criminal, including the right to live in Tampa.

But if we are going to consider sexual offenders extraordinary, then the current correctional system is not enough. The options I’ve heard considered are pretty varied, everything from rehabilitation to castration.

And that’s likely where the compromise lies. These are difficult questions to ask, questions that will likely provoke highly charged responses. Highly charged is not anything most people seek out, particularly politicians hoping to retain their position.

But with such vital subjects as basic human rights and our children in question, the only certain thing is that the debate cannot be avoided any longer.

This is your second annual reminder that January 6 is Epiphany, or Little Christmas, or the twelfth day of Christmas, or Three Kings Day - depending on who you ask.

If you ask me it’s Three Kings Day, or to be more true to my heritage, El Dia de los Reyes.

The traditions vary from country to country, but the basic idea in most Hispanic countries is the same: three magi - traditionally named Melchor, Balthazar and Gaspar (no relation to our favorite fake pirate) - bring gifts to everyone much like they brought gifts for the baby Jesus (myrrh not required). Much like the milk and cookies left for Santa Claus, children are supposed to leave grass or hay for the magi’s camels to eat during their long day of delivering presents.

Of course sometimes it’s adults too, and you better believe my family of two 26-year olds will be participating. My wife, with nary a Hispanic leaf in her family tree, has taken very well to the tradition, if only as another chance to exercise her generous heart with more gift-giving.

It’s probably too late for you to gather up some gifts and grass, but you can still amble on over to Centennial Park in Ybor City between 11 AM and 5 PM for the Three Kings Day Festival, brought to you by the Puerto Rico Chamber of Commerce Gulf Coast of Florida. There will be a toy collection, along with the expected live music. And we know our music.

I do apologize for the eleventh-hour notice - finding grass or hay is a chore when you live in a suburban townhouse.