The Woman Under The Seven-Mile-Bridge Florida Keys

Ann-Marie Carter-O'Connor-Wilson lives a hyphenated life. The Captain and The Kid were exploring the water-side view of the under-side of the Seven Mile Bridge.

The Seven Mile Bridge runs close to the water connecting Knight's Key, part of Marathon in the midle Keys, to Little Duck Key in the lower keys. Near the center is a 65' high clearance for boat passage to sail under. The old and the new bridge run side by side. The old bridge no longer spans the distance, but is used mostly as a fishing pier, historic location, and tourist spot. This, for some, is a tourist stop. Its hard to take this as a tourist spot. The Captain and The Kid do not do tourist, but we were really taken by the history of this span. To stand on the old bridge will take you to places through time. There are people past and present who are part of this bridge you need to get to know to grasp the true nature of this world wonder. As you set foot on the old bridge you begin to experience history mixing with where you presently stand. Its not like classroom history where as the past is introduced you can hear the present snoring through the dead-end lesson you really did not have to know and will never benefit by. There is something about this bridge. Stand quietly and listen. You will begin to hear stories coming to life. You can smell, hear, feel, and live history in a setting unlike few places you will visit. If you want tourist, Orlando is north a few hours.

We motored our dinghy under the span. Sometimes looking at history from the belly-side can tell tales that brings you into them in special ways the surface cannot. There are fishing boats here and there around the bridge. This area is world-class fishing. We motored around trying not to disturb fish or fishers when we happened upon Ann-Marie Carter-O'Connor-Wilson, in a small, wooden boat. We cut the motor and drifted toward her because The Kid said this encounter was ripe for escape. The Kid is usually right about this, so at risk of disturbing this fisher, we drifted alongside.

"How's fishin'?" I said to introduce our intrusion.

"Been better, but it'll work out."

"Whattaya usin' for bait? Shrimp? Minnows?"

"Estee Lauder mostly. And, I try not to sweat."

It seems our new hyphenated-friend was fishing for fisherman, not fish. She lived a hyphenated-life in what she described as a hyphenated-world. The explanation, as this Captain understood it was her life came in stages that continued to interfere with who she kept trying to be or become. She explained that she was very much separated from who she started to be many, many years ago. She said she was once a young artist who had arrived in the Keys to live somewhat a Bohemian lifestyle.

"What happened?"

"People."

"People?"

"Men-people mostly. Marriage. His life on stage and mine on hold."

"What about your art?"

"When Bohemia is broad-sided by a corporate-fed society you begin to lose who you are to become who you are expected to be and somewhere between the mainland and the sea you end up under a bridge and can hardly remember who you are."

We wondered why she held onto all the names that seemed to be part of the disconnection from who she wanted to be. Hyphens are funny tho'. Sometimes they are used to separate, and sometimes they are used to connect what is divided. We were not sure how our new friend was using them. It was focused self-control that kept this Captain from asking the obvious, why she is looking to find another name to add-on.

"You gotta bring who you are to where you are even when you're trying to change directions if you really plan on changing who you are." She explained to the unasked question that must have been written all over my expression.

Ann-Marie Carter-O'Connor-Wilson smiled as she blinked her blue-green, Florida Keys-colored-eyes. "I think they may be bitin' over there. Nice to meet ya'."

With one pull her 9hp motor kicked and she motored away from us, toward a lone fisherman who had caught his line on an underwater obstruction. We smiled as she cast her line in his direction. We hope to see her again when she is not so busy fishing. The Kid wants to pick up some paints for her.

"There's escape here. Im' sure of it." The Kid insisted.

We explored a few undred yards of history under the bridge and headed back to our sloop.

The Captain and The Kid