The Palm Pavilion- Clearwater Beach, Florida

Recently on Facebook there have been some postings about memories of growing up in the Clearwater, Florida, area.  Although I did not grow up down there, but moved there when I was 16, I was familiar with the area all my life, since my dad was born in Palm Harbor, and he and my mom both graduated from Tarpon Springs High School. We used to go down to Clearwater every year to visit our relatives, and a trip to the Palm Pavillion was always on our list of things to do. The following is a childhood memory that I wrote about in my first book.

The Palm Pavilion

The brilliant April sun shone on the bleached white sand.  A rainbow array of blankets, quilts, and towels decorated the wide beach, adding color to the stark brightness of the hot spring day.   Rustling softly through the palm trees separating beach from parking lot, a gentle breeze lazily floated past.  Seagulls soared and dived in joy, screaming in high-pitched voices to one another, white flecks against the aquamarine sky.  Mama and Daddy sat relaxed on our patchwork quilt, while Molly and I decided how we would spend our day at the beach.

I stood enthralled at the blending of sky, sea, and sand.  Wiggling my barefoot toes in the powdery sand and feeling the sun’s warm touch on my winter-white shoulders, a tingle of excitement made chill bumps pop up on my arms, despite the heat of the day.  I stood rooted in the sand surveying the panorama before me, amazed at the beauty and wonder of my surroundings.  Where should I begin my day?

Standing nearby as a giant oasis between sunny beach and steamy asphalt, the Palm Pavilion silently beckoned me toward its cool sanctuary.  Its weathered red-and-green-striped roof spread across the low-slung rambling building like a giant faded beach umbrella.  A wide wrap-around porch lined with a row of wooden Adirondack chairs offered shady rest for sun-baked beachcombers.

I scuffled through the deep sand toward the pavilion.  Two creaky steps up, and I was standing on the cool, shady porch.  The splintery floor was made of wide, rough planks spaced unevenly side by side, allowing sand from my feet to filter through to the ground beneath.  A row of bronzed leather skinned grandparents lounged in the deck chairs discussing the latest gossip, reminding one of chirping birds perched along a telephone wire. 

Flung open were two wide doors, revealing a dimly lit cavernous interior.  I stepped through the doorway, temporarily blinded until my eyes adjusted to the absence of light.  Above, two ancient ceiling fans rotated wearily, stirring the humid air.  Whiffs of buttery popcorn, spicy hotdogs, and greasy fries drifted enticingly in the breeze.

As my eyesight got used to the change in light, I spotted a wide counter along a far wall sporting rows of straw hats in lopsided stacks.  I cautiously approached them, careful not to bump into anyone laden with popcorn boxes or overflowing fizzing sodas.  I carefully picked up a floppy hat, placing it lightly on my head.  The world became a checkerboard as I peered through the loosely woven brim toward the open doors.  Giggling, I carefully returned the hat to its place on the stack.

On another counter near the beach hats sat dozens of brightly colored buckets and shovels, all child-sized for collecting ocean treasures and constructing elaborate sand castles.  Spotting a shiny royal blue one, I picked it up, rubbing my fingers over its polished belly.  It had a pearly white handle twisted into a tight braid.  Inside rested a canary yellow shovel.  It was beautiful, and it was exactly what I needed!  I pulled two crumpled dollar bills that Daddy had given me from my pocket, and headed for the cash register with my purchase.

The pail and shovel mine, I glanced around quickly to see if there were any more discoveries to be made.  Satisfied that further adventures could wait until lunchtime when I would try a famous Palm Pavilion chili dog, I skipped across the cool, gritty floor toward the brightness of the morning.  Waiting for me outside was a magnificent sandcastle yet to be created, and a bucketful of seashells washing up on the shore, to be discovered by one little girl.