Wakulla Wing Ding

Friday, February 5

Grant Peeples threw a Wakulla Wing Ding.

I went. I met an archeologist who knew

all the Old Southeast Hands I used to dig with.

I met musicians who knew Owen and Balder.

I met hippies who opposed Wal Mart, highways,

parking lots, et cetera. People who lived in Sopchoppy

and Crawfordville. People who lived in St. Marks and Panacea.

The campground in Newport was across the street from the entrance to

the St. Marks National Wildlife Refuge and just across the bridge from

the Ship’s Cove Café, where I ate fried mullet and cheese grits five nights

a week when I dug on the Aucilla River, stayed at a fish camp at Williams Landing,

and dug at an Archaic midden up a tidal creek on the Jefferson County side, 8JE57.

How many people do you know who have done that? More people have walked on

the moon, or swum in Wakulla Springs in frogman costumes.

I am the man, I suffered, I was there. If the Saints ever get in

the Superbowl, Buddy Diliberto will walk down Bourbon Street

in a dress, wearing pearls and carrying a purse.