Karen Nichols

I've given different ideas about how to put on a successful Open House. I had a great response and many emails from agents who read my blog about holding an art exhibit freaturing the works of local artists at Open Houses.

Another, more basic way to dress up an empty house would be to place a vase filled with gorgeous flowers on a prominent counter. In summer, let me suggest large sunflowers. If the house is a little musty and stuffy from being vacant, choose a more fragrant flower flower arrangement such as gardenia and with Autumn coming on down the road, a great choice may be a mixed bouquet containing the amazing colors of fall.

As for the expense of the flowers, when the Open House is over, you will have gorgeous flowers to bring home or a great gift for your wife or girlfriend. For a great local florist in the Fort Myers and Fort Myers beach area, to: ftmyersflowerdelivery.com

A variance on this theme would be to fill up a box with flowers, place them on the counter, and give one to each person who attends.

Florida Women . . . . .

Make angels in the pure white sand

Pink low tide bikinis

Challenged by a bombardment

Of ivory seashells and blue-black rocks

After the storm

The sand disappears

Everything is flat at the Florida beach

Except the Florida women

Their sun strewn hair

Blowing in the winds

Of just after

Their green eyes as wise and experienced

As the sea

While the winter minds of Northern women

Wander far and wide from home.

I was attempting this morning in a slow, sultry Florida September way those once in awhile cleaning chores, dusting the books in the bookshelves. I have a few bookshelves, both built in and standing, and I realized when I saw the amount of dust that it had been awhile. As I picked up another dusty volume, I happened to note its identity, one of my favorite novels, Just Above My Head, by James Baldwin. I dusted the book and then brought it with me to the sofa and sat down and opened it. I have read it 10 times at least, but my mind wasn't on the James Baldwin's words, but rather on his death, several years ago.

When I learned of Baldwin's death, I was sitting at a bar in Peabody, Massachusetts. I was in my mid-20's and had just left the office. I decided to stop at Brody's to visit with my friend, T.J., the bartender and grill cook. I often made a little detour in order to have a drink and chat with him after work. We were the same age. He had just been dumped by his wife and I had just left my fiance. We were both from Peabody, though I was now living in Marblehead. We had met at Brody's and had become friends. I advised him of legal matters regarding his wife and daughter. He advised me to move on from my fiance. We were chatting about the usual when he left me momentarily to serve customers. I picked up the newspaper, the Peabody Times, that was laying upon the bar. I idly leafed through the pages when a headline on the Obit Page drew my attention. Author, James Baldwin, had died.

The first time that I read James Baldwin was in College. I remember the Professor to this day, a southern middle-aged man who fancied himself extremely amusing and smoked cigarettes in the classroom. It was a class in Modernist writers, Hemingway, Fitzgerald, Faulkner and Baldwin. Towards the end of the semester, we came to our novel by Baldwin, called Giovanni's Room. This was a short novel and I read in easily in one seating. After finishing the book, I recall that I just sat there for a long spell, digesting it.

At that time, I was 19, and considered myself sophisticated and worldly. After all, I read the Rolling Stone and the Boston Phoenix. I laugh now of how I thought of myself, when in truth, I was immature and unworldly. I had never before read a book about homosexuals. Yes, I had heard comics on TV joke, etc. I was shocked actually by the novel. The story concerned an American man who went for an extended vacation in Europe after finishing college. In spite of his father's pleas to come home, he continued to travel about and became engaged to a Swedish, or Danish woman, but while she was visiting her family, he became involved with an Italian man named Givoanni. Through the narration of the story, it came out that he had had these desires since adolescence. Giovanni's Room is, as I stated above, a short novel, but compelling. Something else compelling: When the professor was discussing the novel with his students, he asked us if the characters were black or white. In this novel, Baldwin had written his characters in a race neutral manner, meaning that most people would assume that they were white, though Baldwin himself was black. It had never occurred to me that Baldwin was black from reading this novel. His other novels are another matter. The semester ended. I received a good grade. In the months that followed, I read every novel that James Baldwin wrote. Most of his other novels concerned obviously "black" characters. That was the point, in fact, to depict black people.

What's so Interesting, T.J asked me. He had finished with his customers and had brought me another drink. James Baldwin died, I answered him. Who's he? A writer, I said. T.J. didn't say anything. Just stood there behind the bar smiling at me. So, James Baldwin is dead. Whoopi doo, said Mary Ellen. I had been so engrossed in my thought that I didn't notice that she had slid into the bar stool beside me. Mary Ellen was T.J.'s twin sister. She didn't like me much. She was jealous of me, to be sure. She was jealous because I was T.J.'s "friend and confidant," not his girlfriend. This had been her role for a long time and she wasn't happy about sharing him. If I had been his girlfriend, she would have more tolerant of me.

Just Above My Head was Baldwin's last novel, his greatest in my opinion. This lengthly story centers upon Harlem in the 1950's and 1960's and a gospel singer and his brother. I was considering reading it yet again, but the day was burning outside of my protective air conditioning. The rest of the books would wait for another day to be dusted. I decided to go to The Lighthouse for a swim and a drink. My husband was working on the computer. I tell him to meet me when he is through with his work.

In this day of Internet and IPOD's, a built in bookcase is still a wonderful thing.

Houses are filled with memories, the reason why Mrs. Closson lived in her mansion until the day that she died. Mrs. Closson was our landlord when my husband and I first married. She owned an estate in Manchester-By-Sea, Massachusetts near Singing Beach in the exclusive section of exclusive Manchester known as Smith's Point. On her grounds was a guest house. Long ago, the house was probably the servant's quarters. When I met Mrs. Closson, she was in her 80's. My husband had known her from just living in Manchester. When he told her of his upcoming marriage, she asked him if we would like to rent her guest house. The couple that was living there had put a deposit on a house in Beverly. Lloyd brought me to see the house and to meet Mrs. Closson. We had tea in the main mansion. Mrs. Closson was an old-fashioned type lady, but yet she was extremely vibrant. She drove to Rockport to paint most days. As for moving into the guest house, I was excited. It was a two story, two bedroom home with views of the beautiful gardens and fields and it was a short walk to Singing Beach. I remember a girlfriend visiting me and commenting that I must feel like a princess living there.

We stayed there about a year, until we left for Florida, and eventually ended up on Fort Myers Beach. While there, we met Mrs. Closson's son, who lived in Essex, another charming New England town, the next town over, and her daughter, who lived in New York. They both tried to convince their Mom to sell the mansion and and purchase a smaller home in town. But, she was stubborn to the end, Isabel Closson. She protected her home and memories until the end.

When Realtors are showing homes to clients who intend to live there, as opposed to an investors, they should remember that the client's are thinking of making future memories and that is an unspoken factor in their decision to buy or not buy a certain property.

As for Mrs. Closson, she died a few years ago, well into her 90's. We heard that her kids sold the Estate soon after she died. Not only did Mrs. Closson's Estate provide beautiful memories for her, but also for me.

With gas prices high and the environment precious, to be able to bike to work is more than fun and a great way to stay fit. Of course, this isn't often possible with Realtors. There is often several houses miles from each other that the clients wishes to see. The weather may be problem, espcially for those Realtors outside the great State of Florida. But, I live on a small Island, Fort Myers Beach, seven miles long. For Realtors living on this Island or in a simialr situation, one beautfiul day, try biking to that Open House. Instead of showing off your stylish car, try showing off your stylish (or rusty old) bike. Your clients may even be impressed, and jealous that you ride to work on your bike. If so, next showing, tell them to bring their bikes.