THE ALLIGATORS' ALLEY

Like much of my life, this book is the result of a series of unexpected twists and turns. It started for me in 1998 with a drive across the Everglades from the Atlantic to the Gulf Coast of Florida on Interstate-75, a toll route better known as Alligator Alley. There was no higher purpose to my journey, just a carpenter in his pick-up truck with mediocrity riding shotgun, trying to keep one step ahead of the mortgage and Sears payment. And as fate would have it, my cassette player developed an appetite for audio tape, so I wrote a song about my journey to keep me company and called it The Alligators’ Alley.

 

But unlike other songs I had written, this one kept tugging at me. I soon realized my lyrics had glossed over terms and metaphors I didn’t fully understand, and something told me there was much more here than just a song. I wanted to go beyond the bumper stickers and the three-minute local evening news story. I needed to understand what had really happened here.

 

The tool I needed was literally at my fingertips on a keyboard. The Internet opened a world I had driven through countless times, but had never really seen.

 

But it was a bumpy road because I found myself in a deluge of information and data. Initially, I was intimidated and said to myself, “This is too complicated and I’m so out of my league.” But the photos of landscapes, plants and animals found nowhere else in the world gave me a second wind. For the first time, I could see my song. Those images, many of which are included here, were the brushstrokes on a canvas my lyrics had only hinted at. They gave me the inspiration to keep going.

 

I didn’t realize it at the time, but a journey of the heart had just begun for me. The path was now clear; it had been blazed long prior to the verses I set to rhyme and rhythm by men and women of selfless vision and courage. My boot prints were dwarfed by prior impressions as I followed their trail deep into the Everglades and across the River of Grass. Embarrassed by my late arrival and prior apathy, I wondered what I could possibly do to help now.

 

The answer, of course, was in my own heartfelt query. The most important journey, within my own heart and mind, started the moment I could ask that question with true resolve. That stretch of Interstate-75 is a mere 80 miles from toll booth to toll booth, but luckily, I found the high road, and The Alligators’ Alley carried me distances far beyond.

 

My effort is an honest and heartfelt offering, an open invitation for you to make that journey. The trail is well-marked, and hopefully, you will find it entertaining as well as informative.

 

Most of all, I hope it convinces you not to make the same mistake I made in assuming you can’t make a difference. Anyone can, and everyone should. If you don’t believe me . . . just take a look and listen to what a carpenter with a computer, a Casio keyboard, and a song in his heart can accomplish once he really opens his eyes.