demeanor seems to fade a bit when he steps foot on familiar sandy soil, and the great sense of
humor his friends know him for comes out.
We asked Grant if he would tell us, in his own words, what the Boca Grande Reunions (also
known frequently as “Bocapaloozas”) mean to him. These are his words:
When I’m asked what it was like growing up on the island, the short answer “idyllic” comes to
mind. We didn’t really know it at the time because most of us hadn’t lived anywhere else and
therefore had no comparison. We were just in paradise, blissfully unaware.
Change is truly the only constant and the island has changed a lot since I left for a Coast
Guard career in 1977. Of course, many of the landmark buildings are still here, much of the
same charm remains, but somehow so very different. It always strikes me how many people are
in town at any given time, even in the summer when the pace used to be so slow. And I know
almost none of them. It feels like a “Back to the Future” adventure, but without the fl ying cars …
at least not yet.
The
Famous
“Bed Picture”
tradition began. Bed picture from 2018 Boc apa looza.
At some p oint a “bed pic t ure”
Be d picture f rom 2014.
Perhaps P h a good d way t to put t th the change h i into t perspective ti i is t to li list t some of f th the thi things th that t
are
no longer here or have changed considerably, some long gone before I was born. Here we
go:
Not one, but two car dealerships, the two paved Gulf Boulevards west of the present road
which were reclaimed by the Gulf, the water towers at The Inn and the port, the railroad
and port operations, Belcher Oil, the bowling alley, The Kozy Kitchen, The Laff-A-Lott (now
South Beach Bar & Grille), the hog pen, the dairy, the power house, the school boat, The
Boca Grande School, Nabers’ gas station, the movie theater (now Scarpa’s Coastal), The
Boca Grande Hotel. Last, and certainly not least, the ferry that was rendered obsolete by the
causeway. For better or worse the causeway, opened in 1958, brought the biggest change to
the island.
Full-time residents were the only ones here after tarpon season and well into fall, so it was
exclusively our island for those months. We could walk to any beach in town and not see
another soul north or south for the entire seven miles. Can you imagine that now? We were
safe year-round. I don’t recall ever locking our doors, even if we went on vacation for two
weeks. Why would we? We knew everybody and they knew us. Lee County didn’t have a fulltime
deputy on the island until the mid-1970s.
January/February • 2021 • GASPARILLA MAGAZINE 81