The city of Jax is not so much a place but rather a transition between them frozen and colonized. A geographical equivalent of the DJ's segue between two tracks, that when artfully overlapped, negate one another giving birth to a brief and unique melody all its own. It is where Floridian beaches fade into Georgian woodlands. Where the skies resonate with the song of Crows and the heckling of Laughing-Gulls. Where pine trees line one sidewalk free street and palm trees the next. Where Spanish Moss dangles from the twisted branches of water oaks, soaking up the crisp wind swept light and draping the noon quiet roads in gray shadows. Where between strip malls you can find an ancient Timucuan Indian trail, whose seashell strewn path was first tread by man over 4,000 years ago and leads directly to a view of massive cooling towers billowing gray smoke across Saint John's River. Where the conquistadors arrived to gentrify the New World with Death and Jesus sits only a few minutes drive from where state of art warships are launched from Naval Base Mayport.
Where I was once stationed before being unceremoniously discharged. Where I once danced at the Milk Bar and lived in squalor with some of the most amazing souls I'll ever know. Where I was hunted by Nazi skinheads outside of Einstein's A Go-Go's and the Kitchen Club. Where I scored bags of dirt weed off a 300 lb and graying mohawked gorilla who made you hang out in an apartment that smelled like unwashed ass for hours on end so as to not 'tip off' any of the imaginary narcs stationed outside. Where I dabbled in a brief meth addiction because it was cheaper to fill the nose instead of the stomach and the amped up paranoia was a lot more interesting than the relentless tedium of poverty.
But mainly, it is where my 'brother', my oldest and dearest of friends, lives with his wife and two sons. North of the Saint John's roar, in a cul-de-sac right off Arcadia Avenue and American Dream Lane. It had been almost a year since I had last seen them, except for the youngest of the sons, who was born only five months ago. A situation that needed to be remedied stat while I had the money and time to do so.
So it was I found myself back in Jax for the last week or so. Only a few days but in them you could count my brother's birthday, Easter and April Fools. The time was idly spent in contemplation and reminiscence. In early evenings and earlier mornings. In meeting the 'new guy' who shows every indication of going to grow up to be the Hoss Ponderosa of the clan. In playing with my older nephew, epic battles of Avengers versus Spinja's (or whatever they're called) or water gun blasting invisible robots between stories of the bad monkey who lives in Terminus only to constantly thwart me. In walking along the beach on a beautiful day randomly tossing seashells along our tracks. In the savoring of a magnificent seafood dinner dockside during sunset. In hours of zombified awe at reality TV hijinks and long talks on the porch in between.
Back now and I miss him and his clan all to be honest. When he used to live here, I took a certain courage in knowing no matter how bad things got, he was only a moderately exhausting MARTA ride away. But as with so many I have known, I have had to live with their absence as the whims of fortune dictate. But while distance remains a significant barrier to valuable face time, it can offer no obstacle to the binds of true friendship and adventures shared.
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