Southwest Florida's largest incorporated city doesn't have the funds to move forward with a major public works project.  WGCU's John Davis reports.

Southwest Florida's largest incorporated city doesn't have the funds to move forward with a major public works project.  WGCU's John Davis reports.

The Conservancy of Southwest Florida recently completed a filter marsh to improve the quality of water flowing into the Gordon River and Naples Bay.  WGCU’s John Davis reports…

Three
Florida Gulf Coast University students have designed, what many say is,
the first sustainable affordable housing community in Southwest
Florida. The eleven homes in the Renaissance Community of Bonita
Springs show that saving the environment and saving money go
hand-in-hand. WGCU’s Farah Dosani has more.

Three
Florida Gulf Coast University students have designed, what many say is,
the first sustainable affordable housing community in Southwest
Florida. The eleven homes in the Renaissance Community of Bonita
Springs show that saving the environment and saving money go
hand-in-hand. WGCU’s Farah Dosani has more.

Lee had the highest f foreclosure rate per capita than any other county in the state in June. The devolving situation is keeping a group of housing counselors very busy. WGCU’s Luis Hernandez reports.

Lee had the highest f foreclosure rate per capita than any other county in the state in June. The devolving situation is keeping a group of housing counselors very busy. WGCU’s Luis Hernandez reports.

Today is the 40th anniversary of the day Apollo 11 astronaut Neil Armstrong became the first man to set foot on the moon. July 20, 1969 was a day that many who were alive to see it will remember for the rest of their lives. Sanibel poet Joe Pacheco sent us this poem that he wrote on that day:




Where Were You On July 20, 1969? – Joe Pacheco, Sanibel
On the eve of my 39th birthday,

wheeling the TV cart into the living room of my center hall colonial

with my wife and in-laws and my eldest daughter Randy on her grandfather’s lap,

(four year old Allegra asleep in her room), five pairs of human eyes drinking in the incredible —
men on the moon, greatest scientific feat of all time,

and I still struggling with the rabbit ears antenna to make the image clearer;


Armstrong’s carefully prepared “one step, one leap” metaphor

milking in best Madison Avenue style

the great moment for what it would always be worth;


my father-in-law and I engaged in speculation

about how Jewish astronauts could observe Rosh Hodesh,

or say the prayer to the new moon while standing on it,

my daughter interrupting, “Grandpa, I know the prayer by heart”;


then all of us quiet for a long time —

my last hope that it might be a hoax gone, I felt bereft —

beauty and belief and fancies once owned proudly

now replaced by a lifeless sphere;


next day biggest headline ever on front page of the Times:

MEN LAND ON MOON and a poem by Archibald MacLeish

followed a few days later by a special edition featuring several poems,

some acclaiming the achievement,

others lamenting the loss,

a feast for poets but my muse silent,

lifeless.


Since then, the moon reminds me from time to time

that on that day a member of my species trampled on her face,

violating with one irreverent step

a million years of magic and myth and wondrous gazing —

brother Apollo’s module chariot pulling from afar and away from us,

the last ebb of silver dream.

Today is the 40th anniversary of the day Apollo 11 astronaut Neil Armstrong became the first man to set foot on the moon. July 20, 1969 was a day that many who were alive to see it will remember for the rest of their lives. Sanibel poet Joe Pacheco sent us this poem that he wrote on that day:




Where Were You On July 20, 1969? – Joe Pacheco, Sanibel
On the eve of my 39th birthday,

wheeling the TV cart into the living room of my center hall colonial

with my wife and in-laws and my eldest daughter Randy on her grandfather’s lap,

(four year old Allegra asleep in her room), five pairs of human eyes drinking in the incredible —
men on the moon, greatest scientific feat of all time,

and I still struggling with the rabbit ears antenna to make the image clearer;


Armstrong’s carefully prepared “one step, one leap” metaphor

milking in best Madison Avenue style

the great moment for what it would always be worth;


my father-in-law and I engaged in speculation

about how Jewish astronauts could observe Rosh Hodesh,

or say the prayer to the new moon while standing on it,

my daughter interrupting, “Grandpa, I know the prayer by heart”;


then all of us quiet for a long time —

my last hope that it might be a hoax gone, I felt bereft —

beauty and belief and fancies once owned proudly

now replaced by a lifeless sphere;


next day biggest headline ever on front page of the Times:

MEN LAND ON MOON and a poem by Archibald MacLeish

followed a few days later by a special edition featuring several poems,

some acclaiming the achievement,

others lamenting the loss,

a feast for poets but my muse silent,

lifeless.


Since then, the moon reminds me from time to time

that on that day a member of my species trampled on her face,

violating with one irreverent step

a million years of magic and myth and wondrous gazing —

brother Apollo’s module chariot pulling from afar and away from us,

the last ebb of silver dream.

Charitable
organizations are experiencing a surge in demand for services while
donations are down.  The Salvation Army of Collier County is no
exception.  WGCU’s John Davis reports.