In a place where powdery beaches meet vibrant community aspirations, the Navarre Beach Boardwalk proposal was supposed to be a rallying point for growth, tourism and smart public investment. Instead, it’s stirred up an uncomfortable debate: Who exactly should be enjoying the county’s most coveted waterfront real estate?
The following was originally published July 12, 2025, at editorandpublisher.com and is a transcript of a vodcast series hosted by Mike Blinder. This perfectly encompasses how our newspapers and reporters feel about the role of newspapers.
The governor’s veto pen hit Santa Rosa County hard this year, striking down more than $2 million in requested funding for local projects. Among the casualties were the wetlands conservation of a 27.57-acre parcel, the expansion of the Whiting Field taxiway, and continued support for our Veterans Treatment Court. These aren’t frivolous expenses; they’re strategic investments in environmental protection, infrastructure, and justice for those who’ve served our country. The impact of these cuts is not just fiscal — it’s deeply personal for the communities depending on them.
It was a glorious morning. The sun was shining and the wind was from the Southeast. Up especially early, a tall bony, redheaded young Virginian found time to buy a new thermometer, for which he paid three pounds, fifteen shillings. He also bought gloves for Martha, his wife, who was ill at home.
As I was writing this column on Monday (the day we go to print), the intersection of Andorra Street and Lucena Street had a shelter in place order issued due to a gas main break. As I was typing, however, the order was lifted.
Most of the time my job here involves telling stories about athletic achievement and beyond, and taking photos that capture some of the best moments from a game.
But having this platform as a writer, and having a strong social media presence, sometimes my job responsibilities go beyond what shows up in the newspaper.
Labels can get you into trouble if you don’t know fully what it is to which they refer. A case in point: I was born and raised in a part of Canada where all Americans, northerners and southerners alike, are called “Yankees.” You can imagine the firestorm that ignited when, after I moved to South Florida, in ignorance, I called a native Floridian a Yankee. His eyes blazed, his body went rigid, his face blossomed red, and his nostrils flared to accommodate the building steam. I was grateful that all I received that day was a short, very intense lesson in American history with extra emphasis on what my friend called, “the war of northern aggression.” The label “Yankee” no longer resides in my vocabulary.
