My South | Fancied by Fairhope

Looking back, some of the best times of my life were near the ocean. In the late sixties when Jilda and I first started dating, it was Panama City, Florida. But through the years, we cast our nets wider, in America and abroad.

In 1980, I was in Mobile with Ma Bell putting that city back together after Hurricane Fredric. Jilda joined me and we spent a lot of my off time by the sea. 

I have a picture on my desk of Jilda and me taken that year. We were standing at the edge of Mobile Bay, in early summer as the sun edged down into the sea. 

She had long, flowing blonde hair that fell in loose curls to her waist. She wore a Harley-Davidson halter top and I thought she looked like a fashion model.  

My hair was blowing in the evening breeze (yes I too had hair in 1980). We smiled broadly for the camera as if we didn’t have a care in the world. 

Actually, back then I doubt we had many cares, but if we had, it wasn’t evident in this photograph.

Later, after posing for the photograph, we drove to the east side of the bay to Fairhope. It was a beautiful place and that evening as darkness fell, we sat with our legs dangling off the public fishing dock as the vapor lamps hissed to life. Moths as big as bats danced and darted in the circle of light.

All of a sudden, we heard people off in the distance shouting “Jubilee, Jubilee, Jubilee.” It became a chant as people rushed down to the water’s edge. 

We didn’t notice at first, but fish, crabs, shrimp and all kinds of sea life seemed to be in some kind of mating frenzy in the bay. For a few hours, people with nets, cans and large buckets caught all the seafood they could carry. We later learned that Jubilee is a phenomenon that happens from time to time in Mobile Bay. It was a magical day.

We hadn’t been back to Fairhope since 1980, but this past week, we went to Orange Beach for my birthday.  

On Saturday afternoon, we decided to take a short road trip to Fairhope. Don’t you love the name Fairhope? 

It’s always been beautiful, but it has become what resembles an artist community with bookshops, boutiques and art galleries. 

Narcissus, with blossoms as fragile as webs, bloomed on the corner in front of the public library in the warm January sun. Out on the library’s lawn is a steel sculpture of an open book. 

The sidewalks were packed with people window-shopping at beautifully decorated stores and dining on the patios of upscale restaurants. You could hear music mixed with the sound of laughter, and it felt like Tahoe, Aspen or Jackson Hole.

We sat on a bench by the bay and I shot a selfie of us smiling into the camera. We weren’t quite as fetching as we were in 1980, but we smiled as broadly.

We decided, on the way home, to spend our anniversary in one of the hotels in Fairhope and spend some time by the water. Maybe I’ll dig out my old bell-bottom jeans for the trip.

Rick Watson is a columnist and author. His latest book “Life Changes” is available on Amazon.com. You can contact him via email at rick@homefolkmedia.com.