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Brazilian Court

Take my Palm, let’s (not) see the Beach

in Potpourri by

My earliest memory of Palm Beach was a visit with my parents when I was about eight. We stayed at a Holiday Inn (long since razed) on South Ocean Boulevard. My dad loved it for the tennis court, and the pro—named Buck like my grandfather—who taught me the art of the drop shot. Forty years later, I spent two weekends house shopping with a friend, helping him decide to buy a townhouse in a nifty location at Sloan’s Curve, down a shaded private lane inside a large high-rise apartment complex right at the corner where South Ocean Boulevard becomes a stretch of eight-, and possibly nine-, figure homes. It was on the ocean, had a nice private pool and hot…

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