to all of you fine-looking children, and may I say how smartly you're
all dressed. You seem to get better looking every year. I'm
always especially gratified when I'm asked to speak to a good-looking
bunch of kids like you are. I think that appearance is so important
these days, don't you? By the way, you can sit down now. Did
your mothers and fathers dress you this morning? They didn't?
Well, you all certainly did a good job, and may I ... What?
Alright, I'll start over.
What was Santa Rubia Island? I
guess that I'm sure the right person to ask, because I've been watching
Santa Rubia Island through my 10x40s for over thirty- two years. The
porch of my house in Gorgonzola City looks out across the Santa Rubia
Straits, and I could see the coral sculptors and necklace weavers
and snakepod pickers. I watched the blue termites being crushed
and ground during February, and I watched the purple wannabies as
they came down to the beach for their daily sand baths. I got
to know them quite well, and I even gave them names. Yes, names!
But I never had to go over there. I could watch them
right from my porch through the binoculars. I knew which ones
were fooling around, and which ones weren't, and I knew ... WHAT
NOW? OK, OK, I'll try to stick to the subject. OK?
Santa Rubia Island was the jewel
of the Santa Rubia Straits, the single green spot amidst acres of
blue water, the only place where Santa Rubia Island pink coconut palms
grew almost unfettered, the one solitary site where Santa Rubia Island
coral lawn fountains and chessboards were sculpted and