I’ve been here before
February 23rd, 2005
[Forgive me, I just need to get this story out of my head]
I’ve been here before. I don’t remember when, but I know I’ve been here. I can remember peering out the window, looking at a rolling hill of grass, glazing upon the four or five little picnic huts scattered across the field. I remember sitting at a table, playing around with a little wooden triangle game with plastic pegs. I remember being driven away from the place, perhaps after a meal, and looking out the back window of the car, glancing upon the bottom of a highway. I remember the smell of rain, and looking at the drops flowing down the window.
I’ve been to this place often in my mind. I don’t know why. For years I picture this place, and as weird as it sounds - certain ’80s song sparks my memory of this place. Songs like Men at Work’s “Land Down Under,” and Joe Cocker’s “Up Where We Belong.” Two totally different songs, with little or nothing in common other than being released in 1982. I recall the songs being played on the radio, in the store or in the car, or perhaps both.
Long road trips, for which I love, often sparks this picture in my memory. And it was on a recent road trip that my mind finally found the place for which it reminisced about for years. We found the place by being lost.
…
A rusted old sign stands in the hot Florida sun. The paint has deteriorated from years of rain and scorching heat, but I could still make out the words - “Indian River Fruit - Gift Boxes - Candy - Jelly.” Typical Florida souvenir faire. Adjacent to the sign, a larger, oval sign lies wasted with roots nestling their way inside. It too has been beaten over time by the harsh weather. Faded away are the letterings, “Port Mayaca - Trading Post.”
The building is abandoned now, surrounded by several wooden posts holding up barbed wire. It appears I’m not the only one interested in what appears to be an old diner, for the barbed wire was down in one area, allowing you easy access to peek through the building’s shattered windows. Several NO TRESPASSING sings were posted on the doors to the building. I glanced through the window, a little worried about what I might find. The first room was virtually empty, except for the chipped paint and broken glass strewn about the floor. The windows of another room was covered up by wooden boards in some places, and some sort of off-white fabric I couldn’t peer through clearly. It appears to be the same as the first one, just darker and gloomy because of the shade.
I slowly stepped across broken pieces of glass to peek through the largest room. It obviously was a convenience store of some sort, with a large refrigerator in the corner, and an empty deli case prominently display in the middle of the store. What looked like a butcher table laid on it’s side. On top of the walls was a fairly colorful mural of the different food groups and some flowers. Closer to the window I saw what appeared to be a headboard and footboard. Strange place for bedroom furniture.
…
Back at home, I did some research on the Port Mayaca area. Not much on the Internet about this seemingly abandoned place; just a few links from the Army Corps of Engineers regarding the Port Mayaca lock near Lake Okeechobee, plans to revitalize the area around the lake, and a few bicycling afficianados journaling their rides on the adjacent bike routes. I did manage to find a few articles about the Port Mayaca Trading Post in a few newspapers. One of the articles was about finding the best hot dogs in Florida, another about the town being a place lost in time, and another about the store being robbed. I digged deeper in the newspaper archives, searching for the owners this time. It appears the owner suffered a heart attack, and was picked up just in time by rescue personnel. He lived for another two years after the attack. That was the last article I could find related to the place etched in my mind.
…
[to be continued]
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