I hope you get that unit squared-away. If you have body pains, and who doesn't as you get older, a spa or a hot tub can save you many pains.
Not about a spa problem, but an interesting story:
When I was moonlighting on my off-days from fire-rescue I worked for a company owned by Bob Kuechenberg of the 'Perfect Season' Miami Dolphins, an All-Pro and Pro Bowl guard (6 times for the latter). He had a Miami attorney as the general manager of his spa and hot tub company. I would hop into my '61 Ford Econoline pick-up, then stop by the shop where they manufactured the redwood hot tubs, head to another shop where they sold the corporate account the PVC pipe and the fittings, the pump, the aerator, and the cartridge filter. I'd install the hot tub or spa and the equipment, but since I wasn't a licensed electrical contractor, that was left to someone else.
The
Miami Herald newspaper had a Sunday magazine named
Tropic. It always had interesting articles. Crime, government scandals, politics, local events, popular culture, and more. The humorist Dave Barry was a columnist for the
Herald. Since newspapers have gone downhill, the
Miami Herald isn't what it used to be.
The Miami Tourism Bureau hired the Miami Beber Silverstein ad agency to come-up with an ad campaign advertising the benefits of Miami during the below-zero degrees F winter season, to be used in the metropolitan Northeast and Midwest. An attractive flight attendant who also modeled, was chosen to be the sole person shown on the ad. She was facing away from the camera, head turned to the left, so you saw her face smiling, in profile, She was wearing a snorkel and a skindiving mask pushed above her forehead, and a string bikini bottom. She held a weight belt and a pair of swim fins. Nothing else. I guess she hadn't gotten around to slipping on the string top. The picture was sent out to tourism bureaus in the north, as mentioned. It became an overnight phenomenon.
Churches commenting about it decried the downfall of Western civilization. Mothers walking past travel agencies where the large poster was prominently featured in their storefront would cover Little Johnny's eyes so he wouldn't be exposed to such depravity. Meanwhile, Little Johnny's daddy was running the cost of a Miami/Miami Beach winter vacation through his head. He was hoping that his choice of accommodations would have its swimming deck populated by such comely women. Preferably wearing similar outfits.
The ad was a success from a merchandising standpoint. People planned to spend their winter vacations in Miami, and the ad had caused enough backlash that the Dade County Commission withdrew it from circulation, the few which were left undistributed within the tourism industry.
The attorney who managed Bob Kuechenberg's hot tub and spa business, offered Gail Kelly, the model, a performance contract. They would duplicate the iconic picture of Gail, and they would market it to anyone who wanted one. The picture was done, the copies were printed, and marketing consisted of a small ad maybe 1 or 2 column inches in The
Miami Herald on a Sunday. It had the price and directions on where to go to buy one of the reproductions, and when the location was open for business. The sales location was the attorney's office.
That Monday after the picture of Gail Kelly was advertised, was a spa and hot tub workday for me, being off from fire-rescue. I made my rounds picking up equipment and supplies. My next stop was the attorney's office to pick-up the paperwork.
I was a block-away from where the attorney's practice was. As I headed towards the building I saw a line of people, the length of the building, and down the street. I don't recall seeing any women, just men. Lots of young men, looking to buy a picture of the flight attendant/model, who made the most-famous half a bikini picture in Miami's history.
I parked the '61 Econoline pick-up, and walked into the attorney's office, and there she was, Gail Kelly. She was busy signing autographs on the pictures, and there were a lot of happy guys leaving with their autographed copies. I found the attorney, I got my job paperwork and I headed past Gail. She had seen my speaking with the attorney, and she stopped me and sweetly asked, "To whom should I sign this copy?" I gave her my name, she signed the poster, and I reached for my wallet. "No charge for this one," she said as she handed the poster to me.
Off I went to do the day's jobs, with a fond memory of one of Miami's most-famous models. That and a poster she made memorable.
Ask anyone who was an adult, or perhaps a hormonally-hypercharged teen male in Miami back then (1978), and they will remember the "See Miami Like A Native" poster. I still have mine. Thanks, Gail Kelly.
I am shocked. Shocked to find out that Miami, Florida once used *** to appeal to tourists, luring them here to spend their money. You may remember a similar “shocked” line from that timeless, classic movie from the early 1940s Casablanca. It was spoken by the great character actor Claude Rains...
communitynewspapers.com
Decades later our adult son told Mom about trying to find one of the posters of Gail Kelly in her (in)famous pose. I quietly listened to him telling us about trying to track-down one of them. He exclaimed, "They're asking
$1,200 for them on ebay!"
I mentioned to the wife and our son, "I have one of those. It's signed, by the model, to me."
Our son didn't believe me. I went to a closet and pulled-out a cardboard tube. From the tube I pulled a rolled paper. When I unfurled it, there it was, my poster from 1978, and signed by Gail Kelly to me. Forty-five years in storage. I also had another memento which Ms. Kelly, she of the skindiving gear, a deep tan and half a bikini had given to me. It was one of her modeling cards, used by models to hand-out as advertising for modeling jobs. Our son had to say, "I thought you were B.S.'ing me!" He eventually found another copy, he bought it and it's framed, and on the wall in his home. Every time I see it, I get a big smile.
friend at church is bringing me a tool to test the gfci breakers. Will see how that goes….
