Two days in the new apartment on South beach. Words cannot describe our horror. South beach is a sewer pit of small efficiencies and tenements. Beggars, druggies, beach bums, young way-wards with nothing on their minds but partying. Mostly immigrants from South American countries whose noses sit high in the air because they are praying to God someone will notice their new sunglasses or sneakers. Last night on the phone with jazz, I asked her about South beach life and this shallow arrogance that seems to suffuse from the entire island. We explore the fact that a few years ago South beach was something. there was talk of it. and people were moving here from all over the world. Prince and even Madonna had clubs here. but those days are long gone. The stars are gone. And according to census records, over one hundred and fifty thousand ‘white Americans’ moved from Miami in the year 2003. BUT, over 280,000 South Americans moved to Miami in 2003. in the early nineties, late eighties, it was called the Great Exodus. That was when millions of Americans moved out of Miami as more and more central and South Americans moved in. We used to see it on the news. there were bumper stickers on many cars that read “Would the last American leaving Miami please bring the American flag.” But some people stayed. A few. Eleven percent according to year 2000 records were actually left. Well now according to Forbes magazine what we are seeing is the Final Exodus; where the last of the white or North Americans are leaving by the hundreds of thousands, but the rest of the Americas are coming in droves. So the city has changed. And I, the last American, remain, for but a few brief months to finish up some last minute business with my boys.

Indeed. I am accustomed to the billboards and street signs all being in Spanish, to communicating with my housekeeper, lawn man, postman, bank tellers, handyman, restaurant servers, court clerks, etc in Spanish. But two days ago when I awoke to find a huge moving truck parked outside and four men in my house waiting for me to wake up so we could move, I asked the gentlemen, “o.k., so who’s in charge here?” and their answer was “Como?” I realized that not one of them spoke English. So we were going to spend the entire day trying to communicate with one another about moving all of our stuff intro three different places, storage, a music studio, and an apartment on South beach, in Spanish. And we had no way of communicating except in Spanish. It was pretty crazy. But we made it through alright. Everyone had a good time. I learned a lot of Spanish and they learned a little English perhaps. [Although these days contrast with years ago when they were learning English as fast as they could once they arrived. Now it’s the few Americans left that are forced to learn Spanish as fast as we can. Because people can come here from any of the South or Central American countries and not have to learn a word of English their entire life here and no one will ever notice. Its really a remarkable thing.]

So many ideas of how it all ties in. Voraciously studying the history of all the European countries we are going to on tour this summer. every few days I finish the history of one country and move on to another so I can have a small amount of perspective as we make our way around the mother continent. With even this small amount of perspective I have gathered the last few years of civilization’s history I cannot help but understand that countries change all the time. the people change. The languages change. We are witnessing that here in Miami.