Not that long ago, I danced with manatees. Lord have mercy, it was good. I was in Manasota Key, Florida, my annual May gathering with my friends of thirty-five years. We swap stories and talk about the way the world would be if we were in charge. On the Intracoastal Waterway, near a congregation of mangrove trees, we anchor the boat and spend an afternoon floating, buoyed in the water, a treat for those of us who are escaping winter’s chill. The sky is dyed hope-blue, and egrets pose graceful and elegant in the mangroves.
