High Above The White Sandy Beaches I flew down to Pensacola, Florida for my cousin Ian's wedding. Ian picked me up from the airport and took me to the rented high-rise condos overlooking the white sandy beaches of the Florida panhandle. I had feared that the beautiful coral sand would be stained with black, sticky oil from the BP spill, but no blemish was to be on the wedding or the beach. Ian is the youngest son of my mother's youngest sister Kathy, so Ian is over a decade younger than I. He is also my godchild, but I had lived away most of his formative years in California, England, Taiwan and Colorado. When he was a teenager, his family moved down to Pensacola, so by the time I moved back to Kansas City, he
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