This is a true story.
A couple of months ago I got a phone call from an unidentified phone number. I hesitated to answer fearing the worst - my car warranty had expired or that Microsoft was calling to warn me something was wrong with my computer. I did what I never do - I answered the phone.
To my surprise the woman caller stated her name and said she was calling to discuss a house I wrote about several years ago. I get a lot of phone calls about specific houses, usually houses that are offered for nightly rental on Craig's list. This was not that.
The woman said her aging grandmother grew up in the house located at the dead end of Gilligan's Lane (fake name). I immediately knew the house and even remember the listing agent. I loved the place. It is one of those magical houses hidden on one of our slow lanes. Many locals don't even know these lanes exist let alone how to find them. She said her grandmother's brother was in the old photo I posted.
The lady said her granny was going to make one last trip to Key West before she died. Granny told her many stories about the challenges of living in Key West back in the day. Everything had to be brought in by truck. Things were scarce and life was rough. I learned that as a girl and later as a teen granny had to wear a helmet every time she went into the backyard to protect herself from falling coconuts.
I managed to make it out of my childhood without wearing a helmet while riding a bike. I think I could have avoided walking under a coconut tree to spare the indignity of wearing protection.
Fearing I might start a crying jig I summoned the courage to ask the age of nearly departed grandma.
"She is 70!" I literally screamed at the woman. I am four years older. I had no idea that death was at my door. I quickly searched the old MLS, found the name and phone number of the selling agent, and gave the woman the info. I hope granny made it here before she croaked.
There is not Gilligan's Lane. But the story is true.
