Driftwood Celebrates Independence Day
By Brian Passey
Just before 10 a.m. on July 4, the neighborhood of Driftwood is practically silent except for the subtle sounds of nature. Birds chirp and dried leaves rustle under the feet of rust-colored lizards darting across the ground. The only human sound is the light footsteps of a lone walker.
The 50 homes of Driftwood, nestled between St. Petersburg's residential Old Southeast neighborhood and Tampa Bay's Big Bayou, form a quiet, serene neighborhood under a canopy of 50-year-old oaks. But Independence Day marks one of the few times of the year when the Driftwood will come to life for a short time. The residents, who describe themselves as close-knit, celebrate the holiday as a community.
Preparations
About 10 a.m., the first hint of voices trickles through the dense, jungle-like vegetation covering Driftwood.
"This is awfully pretty, Maggie," Sandy Helsen says to her 5-year-old granddaughter. "You look really patriotic here."
Sandy and her husband, Jopie Helsen, are helping their grandchildren, Maggie and Jackson, 8, decorate their bicycles for Driftwood's annual Independence Day parade.
Maggie's tiny pink bike with training wheels is accented with red, white and blue with a new flag-patterned wooden basket in front. Jackson's silver bike is covered in flags. The children were in town from Tallahassee for the weekend with their mother, Stephanie Bechtol, Jopie and Sandy's daughter.
Having only lived in Driftwood for 14 years, the Helsens are one of the neighborhood's newer families. Stephanie says she was raised in a cookie-cutter suburban neighborhood at the north end of town. Her parents made the move to the more varied Driftwood after she left home.
As owners of one Driftwood's oldest homes—one of the 19 built by Mark Dixon Dodd—the Helsens also own a portion of the community beach on Big Bayou. Dodd is described on St. Petersburg's Web site as an artist, designer and teacher who moved to Driftwood with his family in 1924. He gave original paintings of each of the houses he built to the owners. Dodd's homes were known for their unique designs with indoor balconies and windows in odd places such as closets.
As Josie Helsen tapes the last decoration to his granddaughter's bike, they notice it is already 10:30 a.m.—time for the parade to start. Luckily, as the family approaches the beginning of the parade route at the historic Mullet Farm house, they realize the parade has not yet started and is running on "Driftwood Time." Residents joke about how community events rarely start on time, attributing it to the laid-back nature of the neighborhood.
Josie says the homeowners' association does things in a leisurely manner as well. During his first association meeting they discussed whether to fix a bench at the beach — a discussion that had already been going for a couple of years.
"So it only took them about six years to make the decision," he says.
The Parade
At 10:39 a.m., the parade begins as residents and family members march northeast from the Mullet Farm. At the head of the group is 18-year Driftwood resident Ron Gregg, wearing a snare drum around his neck. He lightly drums a marching beat to the tune of patriotic music playing on a small stereo.
A handful of children on bikes weave around Gregg and the other 20 participants. Sandy Helsen says those in the parade usually outnumber those watching.
The parade includes a wide array of people, from two young girls about Maggie's age riding in a wagon to Mabel Cox, the oldest participant at 96. James Tiffee, Cox' neighbor, pushes her in a wheelchair as she tightly holds to the pole of a large American flag. When Tiffee tries to put the flag in a slot on Cox' chair, she just holds on tighter.
The congregation proceeds, finally passing its first two spectators as they stand waving flags. Nobody throws candy; this parade is about patriotism and celebrating America's independence.
A sign near the Mullet Farm marks where Abel Miranda's home once stood. Miranda was a Seminole War veteran who moved to the banks of Big Bayou in the late 1850s. In February 1862, a Union squadron sailed into the Bayou and attacked the home. It was destroyed, but the family escaped. Residents tell stories of at least three different cannonballs found throughout the area.
Now in the same area where the Miranda family once fled from Union firepower, Pax Barnett rides along with the parade on his orange lawnmower. He says its hard to choose what he likes better about Driftwood: the beauty of the neighborhood or the people.
"You don't find neighborhoods like this around," Barnett, who has lived in Driftwood since 1976, says. "The neighborhood has changed a lot with the mix of people, but it's always been close."
The sense of community even extends to the neighborhood dogs as they join in the parade. Barnett's birddog Rudy is leashed to his owner's lawnmower while his daughter Caroline, 6, and their dog Winston run on ahead. Both dogs wear patriotic bandanas. Winston, a small gray mutt the Barnett family found under a car, is wearing flag-colored ribbons on his head.
Just before 11 a.m., the parade halts near the center of the neighborhood at a small park where Driftwood Road branches around a few large oak trees. The neighbors listen to announcements about the rest of the day's activities: games on the beach at 3 p.m. and dinner at 5 p.m. Then they find the biggest flag, circle around it, and say the Pledge of Allegiance.
Back to Normal
As the pledge ends, the neighbors chat for a few minutes. Then, shortly after 11 a.m., they begin to quietly walk back to their homes past the old stone walls and iron gates that add to Driftwood's distinctive look.
James McCorkle, a poet from New York visiting his mother Imogene for the weekend, grew up in Driftwood. He brought his daughter Ara, 8, to participate in the parade. McCorkle talks of how St. Petersburg has changed since he moved, citing shopping malls where there used to be orange groves. But McCorkle says the people of Driftwood, like his mother, appreciate the Florida landscape of water and trees.
The whole neighborhood seems sheltered from the blazing Florida sun by the thick, leafy branches of the oaks. Pine needles cover paths around the homes. Backyards extend to the natural beaches on Big Bayou.
"It's part of what old Florida used to look like," says Daniel Schuh, a local attorney who has lived in Driftwood most of his life. "It's a fascinating place to live."
Schuh has few complaints about the neighborhood. The only things that seem to bother him are the occasional high tide and the seaweed that washes onto his beach, the site of the July 4th beach games and potluck dinner. He says the crime rate is low except for an occasional car break-in.
Many residents, including Schuh, who grew up in Driftwood, either take over their parents' homes or move into vacant ones to start families of their own. Schuh says it is a great place to raise kids, especially with the water sports to keep them off the streets and out of trouble.
"The surroundings draw folks who are of a certain nature," Schuh says. He says his neighbors will look after each other's children. He describes the neighbors as supportive, kind and concerned with nature.
Residents say when Dodd designed the community, he originally envisioned it as an artist colony of sorts, though a few doctors and lawyers now live among the painters, ceramicists and musicians. Ron Gregg and his wife Bette, a painter, share stories of the different types of people who live in the community as they walk to their home following the parade. They mention an actor, a known poet and a museum curator.
"This is a good neighborhood for people sharing their talents," Ron Gregg says.
The last few neighbors are in their homes by 11:30 a.m. The near-noon sun finds its way through the canopy, shining off the clustered ferns and broad leaves of surrounding vegetation. Yellow butterflies flit around and a black racer snake streaks across the road to a nearby yard. Outside the world is hurrying by but behind the looming wrought-iron archways proclaiming Driftwood's name, all is quiet.
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