We were staying with David Harper (Robert Palmer's manager) in his condo-enclave across the street from the Atlantic Ocean, on the north shore of New Providence (Bahama's) not far from Compass Point where Robert lived, near the soon to be opening, Island Record's Compass Point Studio.
After a couple of days acclimation to the perfect weather on the Caribbean island, I took my son for a walk on the beach with the intent of introducing him to the ocean. I didn't have a bathing suit, so Toni lent me the bottom to her gold lame suit. Kristan was 4 ½ years old, had no fear of the breaking waves, and rushed to embrace them without regard for the fact that he had not learned to swim yet. I held him back, and briefly explained the dangers of running out into the surf. I took his hand, and methodically led him to the edge of the gently breaking waves. We kicked and splashed, slowly going deeper into the water. When we got to about his waist depth, I allowed him to feel the power of the water while maintaining a firm grip on him. As he experienced the push and pull of ocean, I could sense his confidence growing. We crept farther out into the sea where it was deep enough for him to float and ride the waves. When one finally crashed upon us, and my little boy found himself completely submerged (I still had a good grip on him), he opened his eyes, spit out salt water and had had enough. Back at ankle depth, we walked along the beach, drying off in the warm tropical air. It was truly one of those magical moments.
As we strolled along shore, however, I noticed there were now quite a few people on the beach with us, and the number was growing. They were staying a ways away, but seemed to be following us, and taking pictures. My mind search for a reasonable explanation for their obvious interest in me and my family. It was annoying and unnerving. Our perfect morning had been ruined by these rude people, and their obtrusive behavior. We left the beach and crossed the road to our condo.
David was up and making coffee. I told him what had happened, not expecting an explanation, but he had one, nonetheless. It seems Peter Frampton also lived in the little enclave of condos, and apparently, the crowd of people we'd drawn was most likely meant for the guitarist…I didn't know whether I felt flattered or insulted. What I did know, was that it was not cool to be followed and have ones lives intruded upon by strangers. Celebrity brought with it, unintended consequences. Be careful what you wish for…dreams can sometimes reveal themselves to be nightmares.
