Rainwise,
it's an Amazonian kind of day.
Betty Sime braves the elements to take a trip to Coral Gables. She is anxious about getting a yellow fever shot because it needs 10 days to start working and she's got just 10 days left before embarking on expedition to the Amazon River.
"It's something I've always wanted to do, go to a rain forest and jungle," she says, then laughs. "Maybe I'll get a chance to swing on one of those vines, like Tarzan."
Betty is no newcomer to adventure travel. Previous trips have taken her on safari in South Africa and to Thailand, Malaysia, Indonesia and Bornea.
"In Bornea, I canoed up a river and stayed with headhunters," she says. "But my favorite was the safari in Africa. Being in an open-air Jeep 15-20 feet from a leopard or pride of lions...it's a sense of nature you can't get any other way."
As she drives along the rain-splattered streets of South Florida, she talks about her recent excursion to the Ashram in Calabalas, California. The Ashram is a rather spartan retreat where mostly rich and sometimes famous people go to try to buy a little peace of mind. Activities include long hikes, yoga, meditation and dining on the kind of food that you eat to live rather than live to eat.
"The Ashram attracts a lot of stressed-out people, especially from L.A.," she explains. "You tend to get so busy with the daily matters of life that you don't take the time to be introspective and consider how you affect the world and the world affects you. It's not a luxurious place--the food is plain and you have to share a bathroom with someone down the hall--but by the time the week is over, you feel so good and so well focused."
Betty Sime likes to make eye contact when she talks, which makes you feel a little uneasy while cruising down South Dixie Highway. But you're struck by the clarity and blueness of her eyes, in part because their focus seems to be too often on you instead of the road.
The yellow fever shot takes about five minutes and costs more than $100. She also picks up some typhoid pills.
"I'm excited about the trip, but also a little bit nervous," she admits back in the car. "I guess that just goes with the territory. I love to travel and see new places. You can read and read, but you can never get a true feel for a place unless you're there and get off the beaten tourist path.
"Travel broadens you tremendously, which in turn gives you a better understanding of your home territory."
Betty's home territory, of course, is Key Biscayne. She was one of the driving forces behind the municipality's incorporation and has served on the Village Council almost since its inception. As she guides her car over the Bear Cut Bridge, she explains how she got involved in the local political scene.
The story dates back to November 1987 when her friend and fellow environmentalist Mabel Miller called to complain about the county cutting down trees in the median near the Tennis Center at Crandon Park so they could build an overpass.
"A few of us went down there and literally stood in front of the bulldozer," she reminisces. "Then we organized a protest parade, which got citywide publicity. It then took several trips to the county commission meetings to convince them to put in a stoplight instead of the overpass."
Coincidentally, the furor over the trees happened just before the election to establish a Key Biscayne Council. Residents who felt like pawns on the county's slanted chess board overwhelmingly decided to elect a body to represent them. Eventually, a nine-member council was elected and Betty Sime wound up serving as its chair.
"At the time, I was suffering from empty-nest syndrome and was wondering what to do with myself," she says. "I was considering going back to work, but this became an obsession."
The Council was mainly concerned with development along the causeway and in Key Biscayne proper. There were five Developments of Regional Impact (DRI) being considered, including a 1,000-room, Fountainbleu-style hotel.
"Those five DRIs would have had a massive impact on our residents," she says. "If those things had come to pass, Key Biscayne wouldn't be the friendly little Village that it is today."
Despite the presence of a newly-elected body of representatives, the voice of Key Biscayners was lost in the sauce of big city politics. Betty's blue eyes almost seem to spark when she speaks of the frustration.
"The more I dealt with the county, the more outraged I became," she says. "So much was going on that the people of Key Biscayne knew nothing about. And no matter what we did, we had no chance. The commissioners did whatever the developers wanted them to do."
By and large, the residents of Key Biscayne felt the same way and eventually approved incorporation. Betty vice-chaired the Charter Writing Committee and then ran for mayor. She lost, but a few months later was elected to fill a vacated Council seat and has been there ever since.
Betty has been a relatively liberal voice on the Council, bold in appropriating funds to improve the quality of life while wary of overlegislating. She was an outspoken critic of the debt cap ordinance, insisting that fiscal responsibility should be governed by the democratic process instead of written law.
"If the people don't like the way we're spending their money, they can always vote us out of office," she has stated again and again. "But once they elect us, they should trust us to do what's right." Expecting the taxpaying public to trust elected officials might seem naive or even out-of-touch these days, but Betty contends that the Village government isn't really susceptible to problems that plague larger bureaucracies.
"When you look at the complexity of the federal government, or even Miami and the county, you understand why they need safeguards," she says. "But our government is small and simple and open, so why make a lot of restrictive rules. It's like painting yourself into a corner." As far as Betty is concerned, the priorities for spending taxpayer money are to purchase as much of the remaining open space on the island as possible, build a community center and permanent police and fire rescue facilities and somehow solve the playing field shortage.
"I did water ballet from seventh grade to college because other sports weren't available to girls," she says. "That's one reason why I'm so concerned with the playing field situation. Organized sports are wonderful character builders--they teach dedication, discipline, camaraderie and sportsmanship--and I think it's a shame to put them at risk for lack of playing fields."
Betty has always been into sports. As a child, she used to go to Detroit Tiger and Red Wing games, and she giggles like a school girl when admitting a fondness for professional wrestling. Now, she follows the Miami Heat and Panthers as well as the Denver Broncos, because her daughter Lisa is married to a Bronco split end named Ed McCaffrey.
"He made this one catch that was unbelievable," she says, her blues eyes drifting up to focus on an imaginary ball. "The ball bounced off a couple of defenders and Ed came down with it in the end zone to win the game. It made all of the highlight reels."
Betty's other two kids live nearby: Sherrie is on the Key, and Scott lives in the Gables. She also has six grandkids, some of whom she babysits occasionally in her huge house on the bay.
Betty was born in Ocala, the oldest of three by six years. Her father worked for Goodyear, and they moved around a lot, mostly in the midwest.
"We moved almost every year when I was in grade school," she says. "It was tough but also good for me because I was always the new girl. It forces you to learn how to make friends and teaches you that people everywhere have the same things in common and are alike."
There still seems to be a bit of restlessness in Betty Sime's nature, despite the fact that she's been one of the cornerstones of the Village government. Soon, she'll be moving from the lonely house on the bay to the Ocean Club, and she no doubt will continue to travel the world, searching to identify the common denominators that make us all click, and in turn, find another little piece of herself.