By Sue W.
After you move from the scholarly western suburbs of Boston to the coast of Southwest Florida, a few things may unsettle you at first.
There are, of course, the gap-toothed guys driving around in pickup trucks flying Confederate flags.
You realize that news reports about Florida Man or Florida Woman—a recent form of Homo sapiens—now come out of your own fair state. You know Florida Man, of course you do. “Florida man assaults wife with machete for buying toilet paper at Walmart.” Only in Florida, you think.
Groceries are surprisingly pricey here. The ice cream truck plays Christmas carols, year round. The sun sets into the ocean. Given the FCAT scores, you wonder if kids here ever go to college.