Thomas B Manuel

It was the Spring of 1983, and it was a heady time for (now) Drs. Eric and Barry and me. Eric and I were about to graduate the U, and Barry would be a rising senior. We had plans to move in together -- a 3 bedroom place where a med student, law student, and senior undergrad pre med would live together without driving each other crazy... The plans would only become 2/3 reality. The day we were supposed to sign the lease, Barry dropped out, forcing Eric and I to scramble and find a 2 bedroom place right before grad school started...a much older woman (she was 26; I was 22) lived upstairs, and would become Wifey. But that was months away from this story... So we took a Spring Break trip to Epcot and Disney. We loved Epcot because you could drink beer in fake Germany, and wine in fake France. Eric, ever the planner, figured out with precidion which rides to visit at which times. This cracked Barry up so much, he still chuckles about it more than 3 decades later. We left for home late, in a caravan of several cars. In our car, Barry was driving, Eric was in the passenger seat, and I was in the back with some now forgotten resident of Building 22. Eric and the other guy were dozing, and I was keeping up a banter with Barry ti keep him awake, to avoid one of those many horrific crashes into a canal that would come to haunt me later, as the Ds made frequent drives from Miami to Gainesville. We were headed south, in Martin County. We crossed the "Thomas B Manuel Memorial Bridge." "Great guy, that Manuel," I said. Barry countered "He must have been --they named a Turnpike bridge after him." And then Eric, semi asleep, raised an imaginary glass to him and uttered a phrase so absurd and non sensical, that Barry worried Eric might be having a stroke. You see, Eric was ALWAYS in control, and never said stupid, non sensical things, let alone sexually perverse ones, which this was. Barry and I laughed so hard, the laughter sustained us all the way back to Coral Gables. Eric had little to no memory of the incident. It became part of the lore of our long friendship. The following Fall, we drove to UF to watch the Gators beat our Canes -- the last game the Canes would lose on their way to the promised land -- the first national championship. We stopped on the Turnpike roadside, before the bridge, and toasted Thomas B Manuel. To this day, we remember the event. Just hours ago, I got a FaceBook (tm) message from Dr. Barry's boy Josh. Their family is en route to Gville, to drop off Scott at a high school journalism program. Josh shouted out to his uncles Eric and me that they just crossed the Manuel Bridge... Years after the silly incident, I was researching a case against the Florida Transportation Department, and came across Mr. Manuel. Turns out he was a beloved Broward legislator, who is considered the "Father of Florida's Turnpike." The Northern bunch, called the "Pork Chop Gang," were vehemently opposed to the road -- wanting to keep tourists North, despite the fact that North Florida, well, SUCKS. The Pork Chop Gang knew if the Turnpike was built, tourists would cruise right past North and Central Florida on their way to SoFla... And so it came to pass, at least until Disney took over, keeping plenty of folks in the scrub pine lands near Orlando... So much for state history. As for my brothers' history, I thank Thomas B Manuel. Those who come after the three undergrads, now 2 docs and a lawyer, are fated to traverse the Thomas B Manuel Bridge. Viva Manuel. Viva the menory of Eric, Barry, and me --31 years ago.