Pulse Spring 2012

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table of Issue 23 | Spring 2012 Copyright © Pulse the Magazine, Inc. PO Box 1896 • Tavares, FL 32778 www.pulsethemagazine.com facebook.com/pulsethemagazine Publisher Calvin Arnold Editor Richard Huss

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Marketing & Development Mari Henninger Design Director Cristina Miller Far From Ordinary Design Advertising Design Lorri Arnold C&L Graphics Photography Bill Casey Steven Paul Hlavac Marc Vaughn Steve Williams

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Illustration Jennifer Cahill Harper Contributing Writers Nike Bolte Susan Green Jaillet Jeanne Fluegge Ella Paets Beth Hughes Mike Ratrie Visit our website for more information about all of our contributors.

Assistant Editors Susan Green Jaillet Mike Ratrie

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Advertising Sales Mike Ratrie 443.924.0323 Calvin Arnold 407.421.6686 Pulse the Magazine is published quarterly. We are advertiser–supported and available without charge at participating businesses in the Mount Dora, Eustis and Tavares area. Mail subscription information is available upon request. All opinions expressed in these pages are those of the writers. Letters to the Editor are welcome, and must be typed or printed clearly, carry the writer’s name and city of residence, a signature if sent through hard mail, and at least one type of contact information (E-mail address, phone number, or physical address). Only the writer’s name and city will be published. All letters sent to Pulse the Magazine may be published in print and/or at our website. We reserve the right to edit for accuracy, brevity, clarity, legality, and taste. Letters should be e-mailed to pulsethemagazine@gmail.com or hard mailed to Publisher at Pulse the Magazine, PO Box 1896, Tavares, FL 32778.

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contents Publisher's Letter/ About the Cover

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Ramblin’ with Richard Easter Bunny

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Natural Florida Gator Bait

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Writers One Flight Up Flash Fiction Contest Winner Barb Henny

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Tri-City Kudos Pups on the Patio, Peddler's Wagon

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The Green Scene Henry Parker: Sweet as Tupelo Honey

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Leaving Desperate Days Behind Ruth King

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Lighter Than Air Hot Air Balloon Ride

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Saké It To Me Lake Dora Sushi & Saké

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Aaron Marable Whimsical Muralist & Artist

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Everything I Need to Know In Life, I Learned from A Chicken MO Brangus

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from the

publisher

As we close a chapter with Pulse, we always start a new one. With this issue we say goodbye and good luck to Don Thibodeau, our head of ad sales. Don worked tirelessly for us from the early years of Pulse and hung up his walking shoes for golf shoes. We wish him nothing but birdies, though we all know life contains a few bogies for us. Don, have fun, relax and enjoy your golf and new free time. We welcome Mike Ratrie as our new Ad Sales Manager. Mike brings us a background from AT&T, is an avid sailor and fast becoming a vital part of the Tri-Cities. You will see Mike around the Tri-Cities as he assists you with your current ad and makes calls on new ad clients. Thanks to all of you for your continued support. Calvin Arnold, Publisher calvin@pulsethemagazine.com | www.pulsethemagazine.com

about the

cover

The cover image is a variation of a piece titled "Maria No.39," and is part of Mount Dora photo-artist Steven Paul Hlavac's ongoing gallery series, "The Pattern Pinups". Originally shot with model Maria Checa in his Miami Beach studio in 1994 on black and white film, Steve decided to re-work this older material, making the design fresh through the use of digital editing. The "psychedelic effect" was created using Adobe Photoshop® filters and selective masking and toning. More of Steve's work can be seen at www.stevenpaulhlavac.com, and signed originals are available at www.etsy.com/shop/photoasylum. free |PULSE spring 2012 • SPRING 2012

online!

Check out

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Like Us on Facebook

Visit our Website

Send Us an E-mail

www.facebook.com/ pulsethemagazine

www.pulsethemagazine.com

calvin@pulsethemagazine.com richard@pulsethemagazine.com


A picture may be worth a thousand words, but for this lucky guy, a photo was worth far more. It got him out of the Tavares Animal Shelter and adopted into a loving home. Don’t be discouraged because you missed this guy. Check out the multitude of dogs, cats and other critters waiting for you at the Lake County Animal Services in Tavares.

Visit www.lakecountyfl.gov for adoption details, or call them at 352.343.9688.

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ramblin’ withrichard richard ramblin’ with

SPONSORED BY:

by Richard Huss | photo ©Michelle Pedone

It’s spring and it’s in the air. Or so the song tells us. I think the only “thing” in the air, however, is tons of pollen causing itchy eyes, runny noses and windfall profits for the makers of over the counter, yet restricted antihistamine tablets.

The EB as Party Animal originated in Germany in the 1500s. German settlers immigrating in the early 1800s to Pennsylvania Dutch country brought their EB traditions to our shores. Their Oschter Haws (hare-rabbit-bunny) placed his colorful eggs in nests hidden around the farmstead for “good little German-American boys and girls.” I’m sure these were the precursors to the designer baskets now brought to you by Bloomingdales, Neiman Marcus and WalMart.

But enough of this negativity. Let’s focus on the real meaning of why we feel so good about spring.

And once the marketers, capitalists and retailers of America grab a good idea, they figure out ways to make it bigger and better. After all, what are we here for if not to be the worldwide leaders of consuming and spending? So I decided to explore some of our more notable EB celebrations.

It’s the Easter Bunny. It’s dayglow Peeps. It’s colorful baskets filled with chocolate, marshmallows, jelly beans and wildly colored cellophane grasses. And best of all, it’s Easter eggs – those pastel and tie-dyed hardboiled ovals distributed by the Easter bunny, the cultural icon of our all-things-commercial-Easter.

The EB as Party Animal originated in Germany in the 1500s.

Hope the Wonder Dog left us March 2, 2012. We shared our home for almost 18 years. She taught us a lot about love and we miss her.

The EB is no match for winter’s big red guy, Santa Claus. As a cultural icon, EB commercially ranks below Santa and the ghosts, ghouls and goblins of our fall festival, Halloween. Santa covers the world, whereas EB is celebrated from Argentina to Yugoslavia. Though Easter clearly carries a serious message of re-birth, it’s also a huge celebration to off-set the austerity of days and weeks of Lent. Ergo, color, banquets, music and dancing mark a lot of the worldwide Easter celebrations. It’s another excuse to get outside and party hearty!

Our national EB celebration is staged at the White House. But it wasn’t always that way. Though not a confirmed historical fact, it is said that a rebellious little sprite, Dolley Madison, initiated egg rolling on the Capitol lawn in 1814. Egg rolling apparently continued on the Capitol lawn as an informal, unsupervised event without national incident until 1876 and the presidency of good ole General U. S. “Useless” Grant. In their apparent life-long tradition of not cooperating with the WH, wise congressional leaders in 1876 decided to put

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an end to children having fun and passed the Turf Protection Law, banning egg rolling on congressional lawns because of the damage to public grounds. Those rapscallions had to be punished.

What was the draw? Stuffed into the eggs were coupons and redemption deals offered by local and national merchants. Apparently we traded fun, love and sharing with a large dose of “gimme, it’s mine” and greed.

As you might guess, trying to control children who just want to have fun never works. Two years later in 1878, President Rutherford B. Hayes, a one-termer, made one of his more important decisions. He and his wife, Lucy Webb Hayes, opened the WH lawns for the kids’ Easter egg roll. From this first supervised egg roll at the WH, the celebration has grown to some 30,000 egg rollers, complete with popular music and Hollywood stars as well as a plethora of politically correct venues to promote participation in the event. Think “EB Super Bowl.”

Also in 2011, North Carolina police helicopters dropped 10,000 plastic eggs in the middle of a plowed field for the town and invitees to “hunt.” My question is simple: what happened to the “hunt” part of the phrase “Easter egg hunt?” Dropping 10,000 eggs from a helicopter leaves little doubt about the myth of the EB hiding Easter eggs and the fun of the subsequent hunt.

In 2011, a New Hampshire church hoped to attract approximately 2,000 youthful hunters by sponsoring an Easter egg hunt. Cool idea, huh? At the event, a crowd estimated at 10,000 stormed over adult volunteers trying to hold them back. Kids were trampled, stomped and rolled as adults and teens raced through the staging area stealing eggs and generally not showing signs of love and acceptance.

My most memorable Easter was the one when I was five and the EB left me a live rabbit and a live Peep. We immediately named my very own EB, "Thumper," and the hen, "Peck Peck." Both enjoyed equal status as family pets. So it really sucked a few years later when we supped on Thumper-stew followed a few days later with a delicious Peck-Peck pot pie. Now at Easter, I just stick with my Easter egg salad. See you at the Spoon!

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PULSE • SPRING 2012 | 9


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by NIKE BOLTE | photography by BILL CASEY

I realize, quite suddenly, that I have been staring at this alligator for some time, although for how long, I cannot say. Time, in conjunction with my afternoon of kayaking, has come to a standstill – and my perception of its length seems justifiably distorted. I had stopped paddling – drifting in body and mind, lazily casting my eyes to either side of the waterway, drinking in the sights and sounds of the day. But my brief and complacent lapse of awareness has come to a startling halt. I have suddenly, and quite shockingly, floated uncomfortably close to an alligator. My gasp is cut short mid-throat, and I am stunned into silence. Frozen with fear, I continue to stay still, quickly realizing that panicked flight could place me in a far worse position. It takes every mind-numbing ounce of will to not thrash backwards in terror. And like myself, my

nemesis – this leviathan – remains motionless, save for the opening of an eyelid. But I know, with every rapidly pounding beat of the heart-that-is-about-to-explodeout-of-my-chest – that is where the similarity ends. At this moment, no one can convince me that this creature of prehistoric proportion could possibly be more afraid of me than I of it. A steely gaze emits from the dark black marble that is its eye. It pierces through his grey shield of body armor and thrusts through me like a javelin. I try to quell my fears, to quiet the roar of the train running through my head. GET A GRIP ON YOURSELF – you’re not THAT close! I loosen the hold of mind-impalement long enough to move my already bent and aching arms back … ever so slowly. The tip of my paddle disappears as I dip it into the pitch black water … ever so quietly. I slowly and steadily push it forward … ever so gently. The tension releases from my

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‌ I am stunned into silence. Frozen with fear ‌ neck ‌ ever so slightly, and my shoulders drop in relief as I drift backwards. Relinquished from the perceived jaws of death, I retreat to a safer distance. Oddly, I have not startled him – and this is at once calming and disconcerting. I debate briefly about my exit strategy, but I make no move to leave. I am transfixed. I am thoroughly in awe of this statue-like reptilian resident who, being longer than the kayak I am in, has unquestionable power to do me great harm ‌ and yet here I sit, albeit foolishly, breathing another breath and likely living to see another day of laundry. We are watching each other, and I start to worry about that, so I avert my eyes from his gaze and study his other features: the thickly pointed, boney-like protrusions that run from the base of his skull down the spine of his back to the tip of his tail; the supple but tightly connected grey-black and white scales that fit like a mesh glove over his upper under-body; the larger, more impregnablelooking plates that protect his powerful tail. My eyes wander back up to his head and the distractingly human configuration of that toothy smile - nay, smirk. Closed, those wavy jaw lines hide the true terror lurking inside his broad snout. I am astonished by the sheer physicality of this being. If I could reach out and touch him without fear of consequence, I would not hesitate. I imagine, with fascination, what a hands-on encounter would be like.

Editor’s Note: This alligator is real; it was photographed on the Dora Canal on April 11, 2005, by Bill Casey. Bill was on a family excursion when he happened on this behemoth which he conservatively estimated to be at least 12 feet in length. The story by Nike Bolte, a kayaker and a Pulse contributor to our Natural Florida column, is a work of her imagination based on her reaction as she studied Bill’s photo. We hope you enjoyed both forms of a “real experience� – one in nature, the other from Nike’s very creative mind.

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A breeze blows. I startle as my kayak bobs slightly. I watch the ripples on their slow and steady march toward my steadfast companion ‌ and the lines begin to blur between the body of this amazing creature, the partially submerged log it lays upon, the reflective cast it has placed upon the water. My mesmerized mind snaps to attention as I notice movement – the bent back leg extending slowly, the front foot emerging from its reflection. It is time to move on. I quickly and quietly respond to his signal by digging my paddle in deep, muscling my upper body into the strokes. I do not look back, but the sound of a slight splash tells me he is also on his way ‌ but which way? I dare not indulge my curiosity. My grip tightens. I unconsciously clench my teeth and continue on my course. I ponder the fine line between fear and fascination ‌ and my quintessential experience with both.

PULSE • SPRING 2012 | 11


Sponsored by One Flight Up Café

photo by Bill Casey

The Dealer by Barb Henny The merry little bell on the gallery door tinkled as Maria pushed her way inside. Her sneakers, too worn to squeak, padded across the polished, blond, hardwood floor. She stopped, facing the north wall and smiled at sunbeams dancing through the window across her right arm.

Barb Henny, Author of “The Dealer”

Pulse is proud to present Barb Henny, of Tavares, winner of the 2012 Pisces Rising-Pulse the Magazine-Writers One Flight Up Flash Fiction contest. The prompt for the contest was based on local artist Lauren Graham Cunningham’s painting, 512 South. Stories for the First Runner Up, Jan Richardi, Adrian, Michigan, and Second Runner Up, Ella Paets, Mount Dora, can be found at www.pulsethemagazine.com. Receiving Honorable Mentions were Lisa Iriarte, Celebration; Tina Sacco, Orlando; and Dian Zirilli-Mares, Mount Dora.

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From the stockroom, gallery owner Jonathan Peerage pricked his ears and checked his watch. She’d arrived at 12:10 p.m. every day for 15 days since he’d hung the Cunningham collection in view of the window. She’d stand in front of 512 South, weep, and blot her drippy nose with folds of tissue. At 12:20 p.m., she’d blow a kiss at the canvas and depart. She was shabby. She was fat. She was bad for business. So at noon today, he’d lifted 512 South off the north wall and hung Vegas in its place. He lugged 512 South to the stockroom and propped it out of sight. At the sound of the bell, he rolled his eyes and sashayed through the divider curtain. “May I help you?” he demanded. She startled. For 15 days, he hadn’t spoken to her, not a greeting, not even a nod.

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He smoothed his lapel, examined his manicure. “Do you collect Cunningham?” he sneered.

“Eleven hundred and eighty. I have eleven hundred and eighty dollars.”

“Where’s my painting?” she whispered.

She handed the cash to him.

Jonathan was astonished. Her painting? Stained blue jeans, oversized plaid shirt and now that he stood close to her, he could smell … what? Kitchen grease?

“Plus there’s my commission on top of that,” he said.

He inhaled a loud sniff. “I could show you prints by Glenn Barr if you prefer,” he snapped. “Same theme … the vicious, vacuous, effete bourgeoisie of the 1960s.” “The portrait of my brother is gone,” she said and touched the frame of Vegas. Jonathan bolted forward, grabbed both edges of the frame and straightened it, although she hadn’t moved it. “It was sold this morning,” he said. “No! I was saving up to buy it. Oh, Jesus,” she turned toward him. Desperation flashed in her brown eyes. Tears were welling up again too.

“It’s all the money I have in the world.” She bit her lip. “But I can bring $200 more on Friday, pay day. I promise. Please,” she said. Jonathan pocketed the cash. He opened his cell phone. “I’m going in the back for a private call.” His heels clicked and he strolled behind the curtain, back to the storeroom. “Lauren, darling,” he panted when the call was answered. “I have an offer on 512 South. Great, yes, but she’s a collector from New York and after hard negotiations all morning, the best I can get is a bid of $900. With my commission off the top, that’s $720 to you. Will you take it?”

“It was $1200,” he said, emphasizing the syllables of the price. “I don’t think…” She shoved her arm into her waistband and withdrew a coil of bills secured with a red rubber band. “I was saving for a car. I have money. I want the portrait of my brother.” “The painting wasn’t a portrait,” Jonathan scolded. “But the artist must have known him. She painted his hair in perfect ringlets. She drew his suit, the only one he ever had, just like as he rested in his casket.” Maria made the sign of the Cross and turned to the wall again, as if sheer force of will could make 512 South reappear.

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Jonathan rubbed the spot between his eyebrows with his pinkie, studied the floor and sighed. “Perhaps,” he offered, “the new owner would sell it back to you. Should I inquire?”

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She bounced like a mongrel eager to chew a sock toy. “Please, would you be so kind? Would they let me buy it back?” Maria unsnapped the roll of bills. Jonathan watched as she counted.

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tri-city tri-city kudoskudos Photo by Bonnie Whicher Photography

Pups on the patio | Pulse the Magazine offers kudos to the owners of the Green K9 in Tavares, Paul and Marni Lewis, sponsors of the Pups on the Patio fundraisers. Pups on the Patio grew from its origins, Mutts and Martinis at ALS Landing, to a much larger space at the Downtown Tavares Waterfront Entertainment District on Ruby Street. A pet rescue fest, Pups on the Patio takes place the first Saturday of each month until September 1, 2012. The events run from 6 - 9 p.m. Several hundred pet owners and over 100 dogs attend these gatherings. Over the past two years, Mutts and Martinis and Pups on the Patio have raised approximately $10,000 for the various pet-related groups and pet charities in the region. All funds benefit local rescue groups and the Cornerstone Pet Peace of Mind Program. Paul and Marni are adamant when they say, “Our aim is to raise $15,000 for our furry friends in 2012.” Pulse Kudos to Paul and Marni for their hard work and efforts to make a “dog’s life” truly one to envy! For more information about Pups on the Patio, please contact The Green K9 located at 113 E. Main Street in downtown Tavares, 352.253.5205 – www.thegreenk9. com and/or thegreenk9@embarqmail.com.

Photo by Bonnie Whicher Photography

sean jenness & Peddler's wagon | It all started last year when Sean Jenness, son of Kevin and Penny Jenness, owners of Peddler’s Wagon in downtown Eustis, spent several weekends developing a “pocket park” at McCollough’s Alley in Eustis. Pocket parks are moments of beauty contained in small spaces scattered throughout downtown Eustis. Sean wanted more, so he moved on to beautify another pocket park at the corner of Bay Street and Magnolia Avenue. The idea behind the parks is to provide spots of beauty for visitors to downtown. Sean currently has set a goal of walking the entire Appalachian Trail over the next five months. His parents recently dropped him off at Amicalola Falls near Dawsonville, GA, the head of the southernmost part of the 2108 mile trail. He’s joined by a friend, Chris Dohrn,

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BAY STREET PLAYERS

Photo by Bill Casey

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PO Box 1405 y 109 N. Bay Street y Downtown Eustis y 32727 352.357.7777 y Fax 352.357.7034 www.baystreetplayers.org y boxoffice@baystreetplayers.org

Above: Sean Jenness with mom Penny at one of their Pocket Parks in Downtown Eustis.

Right: Follow Sean's journey online as he walks the entire Appalachian Trail!

Photo by Bill Casey

and you can follow their camping adventure by logging onto www.eustismainstreet.org, appalachianjourney. tumblr.com or Kevin@thepeddlerswagon.com. The young men are also raising funds to expand the pocket park beautification program in Eustis. Contact any of the addresses to get information about contributing to the pocket park funds program. Pulse the Magazine offers kudos to Sean and the Peddler’s Wagon for their support of the pocket park beautification program for downtown Eustis. To nominate an individual or business in the tri-city area for Kudos, email calvin@pulsethemagazine.com.

Lisa Merriman Perry Owner 301 N. Baker St Suite 105 Mount Dora, FL 32757 ( ) (352) 729-2959 Consignment by appointment PULSE • SPRING 2012 | 15


the green scene the green scene

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by Susan Green Jaillet | illustration by Jennifer Cahill Harper

Henry Parker: As Sweet as Tupelo Honey Florida native Henry Parker is a character right out of a Norman Rockwell painting, living right here in Lake County. At a recent presentation on bees given by Henry and his daughter, Jeanie Lombardi, at Trout Lake Nature Center Henry was introduced as “the living legend.” Born in 1920 in Perry, Florida, Henry is a World War II veteran who served with the 17th Airborne Division of the US Army. He is a living recipient of the Silver Star which he received for a combat jump over the Rhine River; he also parachuted into the Battle of the Bulge. Henry says, “I got a Silver Star ‘cause I didn’t back up.” Henry returned to Florida after the war. He and his brother bought some of the surplus of heavy equipment that was then readily available, and they started “digging and hauling dirt.” In 1955, he bought 20 acres outside Eustis and mined clay and sand from it until he started working with bees. “When I first started messing with honey bees, it was the easiest job I ever had.” At one time Henry had 300 hives, and his daughter had 400. Henry started keeping bees after helping a friend haul bee hives to Florida from North Dakota. The friend had no place to keep the bees once they reached Florida, so Henry kept them on what he calls his “Sweet Thing Honey Plantation” in Eustis. Henry chose to be paid in bee hives rather than the $4 an hour that was the going rate at the time for working with bees. The friend, Art Brew, “kept his hives in a squash patch down by Clermont.” For Henry’s work, Art left 35 hives which he moved from the squash patch to Eustis. It took Henry all night long to move half the hives. At the time, Henry says he knew nothing about bees. “They just tore me up bad,” he says of that first experience. Once the bees were at Sweet Thing Honey Plantation, Henry decided to “do bees,” rather than the nursery work he had been doing. He started with those 35 hives and decided he would like to have 70. “That first fall, I had 18 hives remaining.” That many of the bees had died. “After that first year, I learned how not to kill them so fast.”

“The bees didn’t do what I thought they would do. It took a year or two to learn.” Eventually the “bee die-off was so bad, and it got to be more work than I wanted to do, so I bottled honey instead and got a place at Renninger’s.” Henry and his daughter Jeanie now sell seven varieties of honey, each from a different flower - wildflower, orange blossom, palmetto, gallberry, clover, tupelo (when available) and brazilian pepper, as well as royal jelly, pollen and propolis. Henry says everything about honey bees is good for us. “Bees are the best thing the good Lord gave us. They’re the only insect that feeds mankind.” When I asked him his favorite memory, he answered, “I love all of it. It’s the fact that I’ve done it. The good Lord just set all this stuff in my lap. I didn’t have so much to do with it.” He also raised four kids and three step-daughters and says, “I’m tickled to death with every one of them.” Henry is a truly remarkable man with a ready smile and sense of humor. When I asked Jeanie about keeping the business going, she answered, “His customers would tar and feather me if I didn’t.” Jeanie and three other family members now manage the business. “We’re a team working for and through him.” Jeanie says, “Nothing is added or subtracted to our honey. When honey gets below a certain temperature, it will crystallize. Never ‘heat’ crystallized honey, but place it in some very warm water, or better, simply set it in the sun until it returns to its fluid state.” Henry’s personal favorite is tupelo honey, from north Florida, one of the few places in the world where tupelo grows. “The tupelo tree is like the Cypress tree – it has a big ole butt.” If you’re lucky enough some weekend to find Henry Parker at Renninger’s, you’re in for a real treat. To paraphrase Van Morrison’s song "Tupelo Honey", Henry is “as sweet as tupelo honey … an angel of the first degree … as sweet as honey from the bee.” FACTS ABOUT HONEY • Florida’s annual honey crop is worth $15 – $20 million. PULSE • SPRING 2012 | 17


• Florida is 5th in the nation’s honey production. • Crops pollinated by honey bees have a $3.3 billion economic impact in Florida and produce $192 million in tax revenues. • Without honey bee pollination, the food we eat could decrease by a third. From Florida Division of Plant Industry, 2011 FACTS ABOUT BEES • Bee colonies have been in decline since the 1940s. • One worker bee makes 1/12 of a teaspoon of honey, about the same amount as one or two teardrops. • To make an entire pound of honey, bees would have to visit approximately two million flowers. • A colony of bees consists of 20,000 - 60,000 honeybees and one queen. • A hive of bees will fly 90,000 miles, the equivalent of three orbits around the earth to collect 1 kg (2.2 pounds) of honey. • Worker honey bees are female, live for about 6 weeks and do all the work. From: University of Florida and BenefitsofHoney.com

18 | PULSE • SPRING 2012


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PULSE • SPRING 2012 | 19


leaving desperate days

by Jeanne Fluegge | photography by steve williams 20 | PULSE • SPRING 2012


It’s reservations only on nights when Ruth King steps onto Olivia’s small stage with her guitar. The Eustis coffee house crowd finishes the last of their dinners as Ruth takes hold of the microphone. Outside, people push at the door hoping to get in. Soft and quiet she begins singing "In Secret", her song about a child’s unbearable trauma. Clattering plates quiet and conversations trickle away as the blues singer hijacks the room. Women hang on her every word. Men nod to the strumming of her guitar. Some say they don’t want to hear the hurt, but they listen anyway because the pain Ruth King sings about is what people do to each other. Her emotional connection with audiences; how she bares her soul, gives Ruth her special quality. We long to hear stories that bend tragedy into triumph. One look at Ruth King on or off stage and you know she’s spun her tragedies into victorious threads. She’s a lioness striding across her days with a rock-solid gait, her compassionate eyes turned outward. Beautiful in middle age, maturity gives her soulful singing the stamp of authenticity. She sings about living in a hostile white world with white grandparents who hate her black skin. She tells stories about childhood abuse and neglect with a radiant voice that lets you know she’s staring back at her childhood through an adult’s steady eyes.

“She’s a lioness … with a rock -solid gait.” In the music video, Desperate Days, she shows us unflinching images of an earlier woman, a more fragile woman; a woman using drugs, drinking, and getting high. In a strong raspy voice Ruth remembers trying to leave herself behind. We feel the emotion in her expressive voice, (her tool for reaching out to people) the words she writes and the songs she sings integrating the dispirited parts of her life. PULSE • SPRING 2012 | 21


The “N” word stalked Ruthanne from diapers to prom dress. “I didn’t belong because I wasn’t right. I was a black child in a white world.” Not invited, not allowed, she understood the message, “I am colored and an embarrassment to my family. I am colored and therefore not loved.” Pictures show an adorable child with a guarded face, her pain and isolation documented with every click of the camera. A few good memories wedge between the bad. Close to her heart are the classmates, friends, and relatives who didn’t see her as “other.” She nurtures the love of a hapless young mother who protected her when she could. And she has the beautiful memory of her knight in shining armor; her Uncle Greg, two years older, her companion and champion – the “golden boy” who brought about his bigoted father’s atonement. Ruth’s grandfather promised to do anything for him when he learned his son had AIDS. Greg’s dying wish was for his father to stop rejecting Ruth. That same day, her racist grandfather had a complete turnaround. After years of thinking she was her mother’s terrible mistake with that “N”, he acknowledged Ruth (all grown up now) as his granddaughter. He invited her into his condominium, introduced her to his friends, and over time fell in love with her; too late to repair the damage but time enough for her to forgive him. In her darkest days, Ruth never stopped reaching out to God. She found a church family, but its doctrine became a prison, influencing what she wrote and sang for sixteen years. “When I ran with the ‘religious cult world,’ fear and shame and the threat of abandonment from the church, and ultimately from God, were techniques of persuasion. I was perfect pickings for being grafted into this evil tree.”

“ … forgiveness began healing the rawest of her wounds.” to women, even if she never acted on it, perverted God’s creation – a tactic of Satan’s to create an everlasting separation between God and Ruth. Unable to change her thinking, Ruth was asked to leave. After years of abstinence, her spiritual family’s rejection took her right back to old habits and childhood feelings of abandonment and betrayal. Again, Ruth knew firsthand the saying, “Alcohol gave me wings to fly … then it took away the sky.” It took three years of desperation, “walking alone down an empty sidewalk,” for Ruth to join a twelve step recovery program. On the inside Ruth has always felt white; on the outside she looks black. “I lived a tortured life for not being white enough in my New York hometown. When we moved south I lived an equally tortured life for not being black enough.” On the inside Ruth always knew she was a lesbian; on the outside she denied her homosexuality, afraid of losing her church family and the love of God. At times, only Ruth’s music could build a wobbly bridge between the divides. Her infinite compassion fills the chasm now. Triumph flows from her songs; empathy glows on her face. When Ruth stopped denying her authentic self and accepted that she was indeed lovable, forgiveness began healing the rawest of her wounds. Determination and her recovery program halted the substance abuse. Her faith in God did the rest.

The pastor said her music was the work of the Devil, and Ruth believed him. She destroyed every copy of her secular songs and recording masters and began writing and performing music glorifying God. Told her sexual orientation was a sin, denying homosexuality shot to the front of her pain line. “All I knew was that every bit of my energy was going toward not thinking or feeling gay. I didn’t want one more thing to make me feel different.” As in her white family, in her church family, Ruth knew the despair of being “other.”

Ruth King has stopped running. Her house in Mount Dora’s primarily black neighborhood colors her days with the riches she missed not having her African-American family in her life. She loves a “zany” woman, with a gorgeous smile, who knows all the words and sings along to her songs. Ruth is a respected blues singer and songwriter poised to breakout beyond her huge regional success. Like the words she sings in her song, “the long night is over now that you’re 'Safe in Love'.”

A growing belief in God’s unconditional love put her at odds with leaders of her church. They said her attraction

You can contact Ruth King and check her performance schedule at www.ruthkingblues.com.

22 | PULSE • SPRING 2012


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PULSE • SPRING 2012 | 23


lighter

than

air by Jeanne Fluegge | photography by steve williams 24 | PULSE • SPRING 2012


The launch pad, an empty field behind Mary’s Café in Tavares, vanishes below as wind lifts your balloon over a stand of trees into the open sky. A small plane buzzes past with a friendly dip of its wing. Your flying machine is little more than a waist-high wicker basket dangling from a seventy-five foot cloth sack filled with hot air. Bursts of open flame shoot from the burner with a whooshing sound that attacks your ears and heats the back of your neck. Then all is silent again. You’re drifting across the sky like a cloud. In the thin morning light, you climb higher and higher, traveling on the wind. The balloon races its shadow on a backdrop of trees. Earth spreads out for miles in every direction. Lake Beauclair, Lake Jem, and Lake Apopka look flat as shapes on a map. Smaller lakes dot the ground with lily pads lacing their edges. As far as you can see, dry strips of land outline water with trees, roads and buildings. Target and Wal-Mart signs are readable as you cross Highway 441 in Mount Dora.

… It feels like you’re inside a gorgeous IMAX movie …

but this journey is real. The pilot pulls on the cord attached to a flap at the top of the balloon, letting hot air escape so the balloon can descend. Now you’re flying low enough to hear phones ringing and see commuters, coffee mugs in hand, jumping into their cars. The sound of barking dogs heralds your journey across backyards where people wave and shout out friendly hellos. You watch a black poodle dressed in a red coat run in circles, and you gaze at cattle trotting up and down worn paths inside their pastures. Then the balloon swoops down, leveling off a few feet above a lake’s surface before squeezing between a pair of trees that are blocking access to the sky.

It feels like you’re inside a gorgeous IMAX movie as the sights you see and the angle you see them from unfold on earth’s wrap-around screen. But this journey is real. You feel it from your toes to your hair follicles. This isn’t a ride that’s the same every time you step aboard. You’re quite safe, yet nothing is predictable or always comfortable, and you know this is the key to an authentic experience. Whether you’re several hundred feet in the air or several thousand, the wind has to be managed. Even when only a few feet from the ground, wind is the balloon’s steering wheel and gas pedal. Moving the balloon up and down by heating and expelling its thousands of pounds of air is the only control a pilot has. Your pilot, Chuck Rohr, is one of the best in the world. He’s landed balloons on the sides of mountains, in torrential downpours and in jungles. Still, it’s not a good sign when he sees wind streaks rippling a lake’s surface. Eustis Airport is his target landing zone, but the wind has other ideas. Chuck brushes the tops of trees to slow the balloon down. Branches and leaves engulf the basket before it catches, then slips away. Several small fields look promising, but the wind keeps pushing the balloon along. Landing options are running out; the Ocala National Forest looms ahead. “It’s now or never,” Chuck announces lowering the balloon over a deserted expanse of sugar sand covered in brush and small trees. The basket hits ground at ten mph, bounces, and tips over – the other passengers pile on top of you. Chuck throws one leg over the side, still pulling strings to deflate the balloon, while trying to hold back the basket that wants to keep moving. The basket rights itself and lifts off on the wind. Now it’s your arms yanking at the cord letting air out of the balloon; Chuck and a male passenger are on the ground trying to pull the balloon down. Your side of the basket hits the ground again, tips over, and you’re squashed underneath the two remaining passengers. You bounce across scrub and sand until the balloon finally deflates into a flaccid stream of nylon and the basket stops. Laughing hard, you crawl out onto the sand.

Continued on Page 37

PULSE • SPRING 2012 | 25


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PULSE • SPRING 2012 | 27


Saké

It To Me!

by beth hughes | photography by steven paul hlavac model: Samantha Auckland | hair and makeup by Mike Burt

28 | PULSE • SPRING 2012


I remember my first time. Do you? I was in college and my then boyfriend introduced me to sushi. I was hooked … on the sushi!

“In Japan, there is saké for each of the 47 prefectures (provinces)."

Like most Americans in the 1980s I was not very well versed in the realm of sushi, or saké either for that matter. We had tuna and eel – eeps(!) – actually, quite tasty and still a favorite of mine, all dunked in a mixture of soy sauce and a mound of wasabi. We also had cooked shrimp, who knew? I thought ALL sushi was raw fish. As a neophyte, I thought there was only one type of saké, and that it came in a microwave-warmed bottle with a tiny little cup for sipping the hot rice wine. Fast-forward 20-some years to a table at Lake Dora Sushi and Saké in Tavares. There you will meet sushi chef and owner Takashi Kobayashi who offers a variety of both. Takashi hails from Tokyo and came to the United States in 1983 to live with his uncle while attending school in upstate New York. He got a job at a local Japanese restaurant and studied with the sushi chef there for many months before becoming a sushi chef himself. “I will never become a Master Chef. Even if I were in Japan, it takes too long,” says Takashi. Master Chef or not, many of Takashi offerings are inventive and daring, and show off masterful skills. While working in New York, Takashi had the fortune of meeting his wife, Fumiko. In 2000, they partnered together to open their own sushi bar and hibachi restaurant. In 2007, Fumiko’s daughter, Janet Craig, convinced them to relocate to Central Florida and open up shop here. The milder climate appealed to them, so they headed south and stopped “having to shovel snow.” Owning their own place hasn’t always been easy, but it has its rewards. “I want to teach people about my food and it makes me happy to see them enjoy it,” Takashi says. “And they are always so nice.” Owner and head sushi chef Takashi Kobayashi showcases one of his creations with another "creation" by friend, server, and make-up artist Mike Burt. See the footnote at the end of this story to learn more!

Sushi comes in many forms, but the key ingredient is rice. The name sushi, “sour tasting,” originally came from the vinegar used to season the sushi rice and lessen the fishy taste. Modern sushi uses fresh ingredients – no need to worry about “fishy” flavors.

Not all sushi fish is served raw. Many elements such as shrimp, eel and crab are fully cooked. Rolled sushi is the most popular – usually involving nori (seaweed wrapping) and other ingredients like cucumber, avocado and special sauces. Rolled sushi allows sushi chefs to become more creative and develop specialties that are all their own. Chirashizushi or scattered sushi, is pieces of fish arranged over a bowl of loose rice. Sashimi is fish without any rice at all. Takashi prefers the sashimi because he “likes to taste the fish.” Lake Dora Sushi and Saké offers many roll varieties. My favorite is the Black Belt roll – a combination of tempura shrimp, tuna and avocado, with black roe (or caviar) on the outside. Delish! Feeling adventurous? Try the Uni shooter – raw sea urchin in a shot glass of sake. Feeling less adventurous? There are many non-sushi options from the menu including noodle dishes, tempura, teriyaki and my personal favorite, aga dashi tofu – crispy fried tofu in ponzu sauce topped with ginger and scallions. At lunchtime they have several different Bento boxes – a sampling of foods artfully arranged in a traditional Japanese, compartmentalized lunch box – combinations which have become very popular. Chef Takashi asks only that you try. Continued on Page 37

PULSE • SPRING 2012 | 29


e l b a r a M n o r a A

Whimsical Muralist-Artist

by ELLA PAETS | photography by steven paul hlavac

Aaron Marable paints on everything: canvas, paper, wood, but especially on walls. His detailed artwork flows across walls and ceilings of delighted home and business owners. Often fanciful, usually realistic, Aaron’s painting is influenced by the murals of John Pugh, the world recognized 3-D artist and John Singer Sargent. Sargent was a premier portraitist who late in his painting life turned to the freedom of expression he found in murals and en plein air (in the open air). Aaron characterizes his own painting style as a combination of Pugh and Sargent’s impressionism and realism. Aaron’s love affair with art began early. His mother and father recall Aaron doodling with crayons from the time he was a preschooler, while teachers complained that his schoolwork was decorated with drawings. Growing up in Tavares, he covered his bedroom walls with complicated black-line drawings. Now he uses the full color palette and changes bland walls 30 | PULSE • SPRING 2012

into enormous and complex murals. He paints entire country villages set in landscapes complete with wildflowers, meandering rivers, and gates that open onto cultivated gardens. A crumbling piece of wall obligates viewers to brush away non-existent stone chips or touch ferns that cling precariously to cracks in the painted stone walls. He recently completed murals for the walls of JJ’s Music Hall in downtown Mount Dora with fanciful musical themes. Animated musical notes swirl out from trumpets and follow a ribbon through the rooms. Norm, a character from the TV show “Cheers” sits beside Archie Bunker, Jackie Gleason, Dean Martin and a gape-mouthed Mick Jagger. The men lean forward, forearms pressed against a painted bar and peer out at the tipplers seated at the real bar. These recognizable characters create a comfortable, fun-filled atmosphere in JJ’s beer-and-wine bar setting. On another recent commission, Aaron’s murals decorate the walls of a ten-bedroom home. Some of the paintings are so realistic that even Aaron is amazed when he looks at them.


Where can you find Norm, Archie, Jackie, Dean, and Mick? In one room, a huge Coke can appears to be threedimensional as it pops off of the wall. A bathroom has walls turned into a gigantic “Candyland” game board for the children. He’s covered the adjoining bedroom from ceiling to floor and corner to corner with enormous paintings of Licorice Lagoon, Popsicle Palace and Lollipop Land. The entire house is turned into a virtual treasure hunt for children and adults who maintain a childish spirit and energy. In Mount Dora, he has his eye on a wall that he really wants to cover with his impressions of our city. It’s a perfect surface for his art and is empty space that he can fill with everything that Mount Dora means to him: lovely antiques, historic buildings, parks, boats and perhaps a tip of his comedic hat to the John Schlesinger road trip movie that featured a pink Mount Dora, “Honky-tonk Freeway.” He prefers painting with oils, but generally works in acrylics because they dry so quickly. While he likes the richer look of oils and the details he can produce with them, acrylics allow Aaron to be sure his work stays intact. When asked why he paints, Aaron says, “I paint because everything I need to know, I can get from painting. I paint because that’s how I figure out everything. When I have a painting in mind I have to research the details and I get all my details from life.” A good bit of his research is done by simply looking at things. He sees things sharply and stores his visions for recall when needed. In his mind’s eye, individual blades of grass reside beside forests, ready to appear in a painting. He observes the way light falls on objects. And he knows how to re-create what he sees. For relaxation, this young and talented painter plays the harmonica and also writes poetry, fiction and non-fiction. And when Aaron has the time he is tweaking his website, www.MarableStudios.com. A visit gives you an idea of the measure of his talent.

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PULSE • SPRING 2012 | 31


Willoughby’s & Co. Accents for the home

Visit newly renovated Bar & Dining Room for casual fine dining in a warm, friendly atmosphere.

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JEWELRY FOR A LIFETIME 32 | PULSE • SPRING 2012

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PULSE • SPRING 2012 | 33


Everything I Need to Know in Life,

I Learned From a Chicken (Or a Cow, or … my Dad)

by Beth Hughes | photography by steve WILLIAMS

Maybe you noticed a sign a few miles outside of Mount Dora on Highway 46. It reads, “MO Brangus.” But what's a MO Brangus? Turns out it's one of the largest ranches in Lake County, and it's the pride and joy of Mark "MO" Williams, one of Mount Dora's native sons. He started the cattle ranch in 1983, after earning his DDS in dental school in the 1960s. Wait. Did you say dental school? But we have to go back even further than that to find out how this all started – the cattle, the nickname, the dental school and yes, Dad and the chickens, too. The Williams family lived in a house on 3rd Avenue in Mount Dora where Mark and brothers Sam and Steve grew up. They raised chickens in a coop because, according to Mark, “We didn’t have room for cattle then.” Their dad, “Buster” Williams, taught his boys a lot of life lessons while raising those chickens. Dr. Williams said to me, “Some mornings, it was cold or rainy and I didn’t want to get out of bed. But I had to feed the chickens. You learned to do the things you didn’t always want to do. And that built character.” As a kid, he had a bicycle route delivering eggs to customers in Mount Dora. One day he hit a bump in the road and his carefully stacked eggs, all in one basket, went flying everywhere. Also about that time, MO joined the 4-H Club. He showed 34 | PULSE • SPRING 2012

his chickens at the local and state fairs and even got involved as a poultry judge. Then he became interested in girls, egg deliveries declined, and according to Mark, “We ate a lot of fried chicken after that.” Mark left Mount Dora for college, and later dental school in Kentucky. “One day, the other students started calling me ‘MO’,” which was short for his family name, Marcus Orene, and it stuck with him. The “Brangus” part came later. After dental school, he came back to Central Florida and opened his dental practice in Altamonte Springs, where he still works his day job. He reserves the ranch work in Mount Dora for Wednesdays and Saturdays. In 1955, Buster bought the first 80 acres out on Highway 46. MO started adding to it around 1983 and today he owns more than 200 acres. He chose Brangus cattle, three-eighths Brahma and five-eighths Angus, because they were bred to withstand the hot, humid conditions in Florida. A mature Brangus bull can weigh almost a ton. MO started with 10 cows and one bull and now keeps approximately 400 head of cattle at any given time on the ranch. Each one carries “MO” as the ranch’s official brand. He usually sells about 50 top bred bull calves at the big cattle auction in Arcadia, Florida, every October. He also transports steers (castrated beef calves) to an Oklahoma feedlot each spring. Between these sale events, he looks after the herd, feeding, worming and


giving shots, and then turns to ranch chores where he fertilizes pastures, mends fences – the endless tasks of ranching. Buster Williams believed that “kids are our future.” And he passed that lesson on to his children. About seven years ago, MO Williams found the opportunity to give back to those who helped him. The Mount Dora High School 4-H Club and the Future Farmers of America classes needed a place to raise their steers and pigs for the Lake County Fair competitions. He provides the kids with pastures to graze their herd, and all the equipment and paraphernalia they need to handle their animals. MO donates the land and equipment because, “if a kid needs some help, and I can help them, heck, yeah!” The students bring their steers and pigs to the farm in September, shortly after the beginning of school. They work steadily, preparing their animals for the Lake County Fair which takes place the first Thursday in April and lasts 10 days. The rest of the year, Dr. Williams practices dentistry, works his herd, revels in the peace and quiet on his ranch and enjoys the fruits of his labor. In spite of once putting all of his eggs in one basket, there’s no doubt that Buster would be very proud of the life lessons MO has learned – and passed on.

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704 South Lakeshore Blvd. Howey-In-The-Hills, FL www.jbboondocks.com PULSE • SPRING 2012 | 35


237 West 4th Ave. Suite 6 * Mount Dora, FL 32757 * 352-383-3600 We are located in the Arbors & Eyebrows Complex at the corner of Alexander and 4th Ave in Historic Downtown Mount Dora Open 7 days a week

Gourmet Kitchen Products *Cooks Tools & Gadgets Galore *Nordic Ware Bundt & Baking Products *Everyday Cooking & Baking Supplies for Everyone *KYOCERA Advanced Ceramic Knives, Lifetime Warranty *Kids Cooking Tools and visit our ‘Kids In the Kitchen’ *LorAnn Gourmet Vanillas, Oils, Bakers Emulsions *William Bounds: Salt & Pepper Mills + PepArt *PLUS Hard to Find Bakers Ingredients

*Gift cards available* *Also visit us at kadeekay.com*

36 | PULSE • SPRING 2012


air, continued from Page 25

You’re thrilled with this glorious ballooning experience – a gentle old-fashioned journey with nothing to separate you from serendipitous sights and sounds along the way. And the exhilarating landing, instead of the usual tranquil one, is a stroke of good luck for an adventurer like you. You study animal tracks in the soft sand and eat tiny sour oranges plucked from a nearby tree while waiting for the ground crew to find you. You don’t mind waiting. Chuck says the Champagne is chilling on his Lake Dora dock, and you have an exciting story to tell. To find out more about Rohr Balloons, visit www.RohrBalloons.com or call 954-658-3333.

Quality Printing at an affordable price

sakÉ, continued from Page 29

Now you need something to wash down all that sushi and traditional Japanese food. Saké is just the right drink and there is a saké for every palate. In Japan, each of the 47 different prefectures (provinces) has its own saké. Saké, although called a rice wine, is brewed from a mash, more like beer. Sip carefully though – the 15 percent alcohol content is a bit higher than beer or wine. At Lake Dora Sushi and Saké, Takashi and Fumiko offer at least 10 different types of saké as well as hot or cold saké, draft saké and flavored sakés. You can even have unfiltered saké, which has a much stronger flavor. If you are celebrating, try the sparkling saké – bubbles make everything better! Unsure about sushi etiquette? Here are the basic “rules.” Sushi should be eaten with the fingers. Chopsticks are used for sashimi. Only dip the fish side of your sushi roll in your soy sauce, not the rice side. Wasabi should be applied to the top of a piece of sushi with your chopsticks, not mixed in great heaps with the soy sauce. Don’t fret, though – most people do it “wrong” anyway. In fact, the now common practice among Japanese and Western sushi diners is: Just relax and enjoy it! After all, it’s what Takashi wants you to do. Lake Dora Sushi and Saké is located at 227 East Main Street, Tavares. Call 352-3436313, or visit them online at www.lakedorasushi.com. Note: In the opening photo, the character Mike has brought to life is a Harajuku Girl. Here she is featured with larger than life eyes in the style of anime or Japanese animation cartoons. Harajuku Girls are found on the streets of Tokyo, Japan, where they showcase their wild wardrobe for spectators and tourists. The Harajuku fashion movement has exploded into the mainstream through pop culture with high profile musicians such as Gwen Stefani and Nicki Minaj. Stefani featured four back-up dancers that wore the style of Harajuku Girls when she toured as a solo act. She was so enamored with them, that she wrote a song about them for her first solo album.

C

&

L

Printing and Graphic Design 407. 421 .6686

printingcalvin@gmail.com

PULSE • SPRING 2012 | 37


qualit y gr aphic design doesn ’ t have to break the bank. Affordable, accessible print design services for the business on a budget logo design | marketing materials | more

far from ordinary

graphic design

352.217.3712 | www.farfromordinarydesign.com 38 | PULSE • SPRING 2012


May 4 - 27 By Tom Dulack

2012 - 2013 Season INTO The WOODS

July 13 – Aug 5, 2012

The SecReT GARDeN

The WINTeR WONDeReTTeS

Mar 22 – Apr 14

Book by James Lapine, Music & Lyrics by Stephen Sondheim

Nov 16 – Dec 16

DIAL M FOR MURDeR

BUDDY! The BUDDY hollY STorY

Dial M Sept 14 – Oct 7 for Murder By Frederick Knott

A madcap tale of crime and pasta – served up with plenty of laughs!

Music by Lucy Simon, Book and Lyrics by Marsha Norman, from the novel by F.H. Burnett

Created by Roger Bean

Jan 18 – Feb 17, 2013 by Alan Janes

PeRFecT WeDDING

May 17 – June 9 Perfect Wedding

by Robin Hawdon

SUBSCRIBE! Six Show Series $96 - $114 • Five Show Series $80 - $95 Tickets: $20 Adults, $18 Seniors (65+ Thurs & Sun,) $16 Groups (15 or more,) $10/$12/$15 Students Showtimes: Thursday 7:30 PM • Friday & Saturday 8:00 PM • Sunday 2:00 PM

DreamingUp Up Dreaming IceHouse Youth Theatre 2012 Summer Camps! Ages 5 and Up. 352.383.3133 or youth@icehousetheatre.com for more info. 1100 N. Unser Street • Mount Dora, FL 32757 • Box Office 352.383.4616 • www.icehousetheatre.com

Dreaming Up IsIs the Ideal Retirement the Ideal Retirement the Ideal Retirement Is Your Job. HelpingYou You Your Job. Helping Your Job.Is Helping Get There IsOurs. Ours.You Get There Get There Is Ours.

It’s simple, retire depends howwell wellyou you It’s simple, really.really. How How well well you you retire depends onon how plan today. Whether retirement is down the road or just around plan today. Whether retirement is down the road or just around It’s simple, really. you How well you retireyour depends on how wellbetter you the corner, the more toward goals now, the corner, the more work you work toward your goals now,the the better plan today. Whether retirement is down the road or just around prepared you can be. can Is itprepared radical toyou ask thatbe. your life savings get some

Member SIPC © Edward Jones, 2009

the corner, the more you work toward your goals now, the better

attention? Hardly. That’s why we’retaking built toa have one perspective. Preparing for retirement long-term prepared you can be. means Preparing retirement means taking a long-term perspective. financial advisor infor each office. Someone who’ll focusholding We recommend buying quality investments and them We recommend buying quality investments and holding them on you. And your nest egg. Join the nearly 7 million Preparing for retirement means taking away long-term because we believe that’s the soundest we canperspective. help you investors who know. Face time and think time because we believe that’s the soundest way we can help you recommend buying investments holding work We toward your goals. Atquality Edward Jones, weand spend timethem makeyour sense. www.edwardjones.com work toward goals. At Edward Jones, we spend time getting to know retirement so we you you because we your believe that’s thegoals soundest waycan we help can help getting to know your retirement goals so we we spend can help you reachwork them. toward your goals. At Edward Jones, time Richard A Harry reachto them. getting know your retirement goals so we can help you Financial Advisor . To learn Edward Jones makes reachmore them. about why 4701 Highway 19A Suite 2sense for you, call or visit today. To learn more about why Edward Jones makes sense for Mt Dora, FL 32757

Is on board with the crazy idea that nest eggs, like children, you, callRebecca or visit today. B Sargent, CFP® Dreaming Up shouldn’t be left with strangers. Rebecca BRebecca Sargent, B CFP® Sargent, CFP® the Ideal Retirement Is FinancialBAdvisor Rebecca Sargent, CFP® Rebecca B Sargent, CFP® the Ideal Your Job.Retirement Helping YouIs Get There Is Ours. You Your Job. Helping

Dreaming Up

Get There Is Ours.

It’s simple, really. How well you retire depends on how well you plan today. Whether retirement is down the road or just around the corner, the more you work toward your goals now, the better prepared you can be.

It’s simple, really. How well you retire depends on how well you Preparing retirement means is taking long-term perspective. plan today. for Whether retirement downa the road or just around We recommend buying quality investments and holding them the corner, the more you work toward your goals now, the better

352-357-2282 To learn more about why Edward Jones makes sense for you, call or visit today.

Financial Advisor .

4701 Highway 19A Suite 2 Financial Advisor . Mt Dora, FL 32757 . Financial Advisor 352-357-2282 . 4701 Highway 19A Suite 2 4701 Highway 19A Suite 2 Financial Advisor

Mt Dora, FL. 32757 4701 Highway 19A SuiteFL2 32757 Mt Dora, 4701 Highway 19A Suite 2 Mt352-357-2282 Dora, FL 32757 352-357-2282 Mt Dora, FL 32757 352-357-2282 352-357-2282 www.edwardjones.com

Member SIPC

www.edwardjones.com Member SIPC www.edwardjones.com Member SIPC

PULSE • SPRING 2012 | 39


Fun

Theto locals’ downtown’s guide unique places. and tasteful inspiration can always be found at

The Gourmet Spot. Their vast selection of award-winning foods, specialty kitchenware and artisan entertaining pieces makes them a favorite among locals and visitors. This quaint shop always brings a smile.

E xplore the town’s best selection of wines

‘buy’ the glass or bottle at The Wine Den, a unique combination of wine bar and wine shop. ‘First Friday Wine Tastings’ and 3rd Friday ‘Yappy Hours’ are big local favorites. Their seasonal megawine tastings draw visitors from near and far.

The ultimate pampering experience

awaits at Synergy Salonspa. This full service, ultra-modern salonspa features a relaxing couple’s massage room and self-sanitizing pedicure chairs. It’s the perfect place for a refreshing new style or a renewing spa treatment.

411 N. Donnelly St., Mount Dora TheGourmetSpot.com 352.735.4777

40 | PULSE • SPRING 2012

Donnelly & 3rd Ave, Mount Dora SynergySalonspamtdora.com 352.383.2900

109 4th Avenue, Mount Dora TheWineDenOnline.com 352.735.5594


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