Terry Tomalin loved him some Florida — especially the fishing.
His master’s thesis? “Mullet: The Political Fish.” I once asked him why mullet launch themselves out of the water at random intervals.
“Because they can,” he told me. Terry made Florida’s outdoors accessible and real for people, and since his unexpected death last week it’s been hard to imagine a Florida without him.
Below, fellow Floridians share their memories.
Kanika, Kai and Nia Tomalin
Terry approached home like he approached everything. He gave it every single ounce of all that he had. Up before the sun. Feed the dog. Make the coffee. Read the paper. Fold the laundry. Put it away. Cook breakfast. Prepare lunches. Wake Kanika and the kids. Work on USF class material. Take kids to school. Talk to them about whatever is on NPR… and how much I love them. This is all before 7 a.m. The balance of his day would be equally busy. Go fish. Deliver catch to friends. Write a column. Figure out dinner. Lead a Boy Scout excursion. Pick up kids from Grandma. Take each to a lesson. Drop them off at track practice. Plan and pack for next week’s adventure. Teach a class at USF. Kiss Kanika and tell her she’s beautiful. This was his list, how he got through the day. Sometimes he’d write it down, sometimes he’d just randomly share the list out loud — but he always had a list. Every day, no matter the day. It was long and it was done by the time he hit the bed. He rested well…for a few hours, at least. He had to get up early, "lots to do!" We’ll love him forever, in the fashion of his lists: constant and full of force. We’re comforted to know he’s resting well. Our world will never be the same.
Jon Tallon
“You guys are gonna drown.” That’s what Terry said to my friend Shawn Reynolds when we asked about the logistics of kayaking William Bartram’s path on the St. Johns River. Terry was a guy that looked like he knew what he was talking about. He dressed like Carl from Caddyshack and was wind- or sun-burned, and always just returned from some Hemingway-esque adventure, involving water craft or wildlife. Our excursion ended up less nature writing/eco-criticism and more Fear and Loathing in Welaka, Florida. We made it there and back, wind-burnt, soggy and just enough danger to keep the adrenaline going. Tales to tell and miles on the river — the way Terry liked things.
Jon Wilson
Terry and I are in a canoe trying to fly-fish on the Peace River. We flog the stream for a couple of hours with nary a nibble. I mention casually an Irish pub has opened in Bradenton. Urgently, Terry strokes 180 degrees and we head back upstream. The only word he utters: “Paddle!” We rush-load the canoe, tying poor knots to hold it down. Terry breaks rural speed limits on the way to Bradenton. We find the pub. We raise our mugs, toasting Ireland, toasting New Zealand, toasting rugby, toasting the fish that maybe we would catch another day. The Guinness does us fine.
Jeff Klinkenberg
I would see him in the hallway and he always wore Hawaiian shirts, and I would […] say, ‘That’s a nice shirt’. Time would pass, and one day, he’d give me that shirt. I guess Kanika told him "if you buy a new shirt you have to get rid of an old one", and he remembered. He was an amazingly generous guy.
Ray Aresnault
Terry was "a force of nature," as they say — the kind of person you meet once in a lifetime, if you’re lucky… A bundle of energy and street smarts wrapped in wit and good humor — a boyish, adult imp. It wasn’t enough for him to swim across Tampa Bay with the Navy Seals once a year; he had to tease me with an invitation to join the swim, knowing that I would probably drown within a half-mile after the start. As his advisor and graduate instructor in the Florida Studies Program at USFSP, I learned early on that he could derail a seminar discussion with a single well-chosen quip, reducing his classmates—and me—to convulsive laughter. Getting the intellectual train back on track was nearly impossible, and when I capitulated and let the students have a 15-minute break he would wink at me as he went out the door.
Even so, he obviously loved the back and forth of class discussion, and it didn’t surprise me when he turned out be a natural and gifted teacher. He was always full of wise counsel doled out in witty one-liners, and once when a fellow student who hoped to land a full-time job with the St. Petersburg Times asked him for advice, he said, “Start with a part-time position, do some investigative reporting, and bring down a sheriff. That’s the way I did it.” In truth, no one could do anything exactly the way Terry did it. Like many unforgettable characters, he was sui generis. A human amphibian, he was at his best on the water, and never more than when he was in a canoe or kayak. For several years he led the Florida Studies canoe trips on the Withlacoochee, instructing us along the way but often paddling so fast that we were all left in his wake. That’s the way I will always remember him, stroking hard with the wind in his hair, heading for adventure in his beloved Florida.
Denny Stypinski
Hiking the Appalachian Trail with about 13 Scouts and several adults a few years ago. For most, our first time. A day and a half in and at 4500 feet, both of my knees began to fail; the combination of old knees coupled with the weight of my backpack and the brutal terrain was more than I could endure. I was either going to slip and fall (more like roll) down the side of a mountainside with 35 pounds of gear on my back, or hold up, call for help, allow the Scouts to continue on toward completion of their Eagle required 50 Miler merit badge, (and hope I wasn’t a nice chubby dinner for the momma bear and her two cubs we saw a few miles back). Terry called the adults together to tell them my situation. We moved forward at a much slower pace to accommodate, “Pop’s” cooked knees, but the pace would not allow the boys to get the 50 miles in the few days we’d planned. The next thing I know, Scouts gather around me, taking my gear. Terry’s idea allowed me a much easier descent for the balance of the trip and ‘toughened up his Scouts’ in the process. Needless to say, we all completed the merit badge. Very proud moment for me and my two boys, to say the least. Earlier, I had heard Terry tell both of my boys as well as the other Scouts, "You make damn sure you dad completes the mission." At dinner that night Terry pulled me aside and said — and I quote — "If you thought we were going to leave you behind you’re fucking dumber than you look! We are a team; we leave no man behind." We laughed hard, but profound words I’ll never forget!
Gary Mormino
Terry brought a wonderful new perspective to the Florida Studies Program. He had seen more of Florida, experienced more of Florida and tasted more of Florida than anyone else, but he brought a new-found hunger to understand Florida, or at least to consider new perspectives and ideas. When Terry heard that the Florida Studies Program was holding a fundraiser (c. 2009), he wanted to contribute. In higher education we now call this an “in-kind match.” Terry´s contribution consisted of two freshly killed hogs that he had personally shot, dressed and smoked. I asked him how much we owed him and he said $1.25, for the two cartridges! I gave Terry five quarters. I then filled out the paperwork and asked the USF Foundation to reimburse me $1.25. They were not amused. USF lawyers were even less amused over the prospect of wealthy donors dying from an infected wild hog! Terry, however, was amused.
Eric Hornsby
Terry Tomalin was extraordinary. We only met a few times, but it was obvious from the outset that Terry was one of the good guys. He made a big impression on me. Back in 2006, Terry and I took a canoe trip down that tangled stretch of the Hillsborough River known as Seventeen Runs. It was a wild and wooly adventure and he wrote an article about it in the St. Petersburg Times. To this day I'm extremely proud of it.
While on that trip, I found myself analyzing him. I was a park ranger and I saw him as a real-life success. He was telling me about native tribes of South America, paddling the west coast of Florida, and circumnavigating the St. Petersburg peninsula. I thought, these are the things that I want to do! And here is someone in the flesh actually doing it—and in a style so generous, rugged, humble and clever.
His ambassadorship of the state, his deep knowledge and love for her many great and beautiful virtues are things that also made him extraordinary and greatly impacted me. He lit a fire in me to get out and live the adventures! And I have had many since. I even have a YouTube channel where I go out to the backcountry to film and interpret this beautiful state that Terry loved so much.
I now work for Hillsborough County's Conservation and Environmental Lands Management Department at Cockroach Bay, still immersed in the Florida wilderness and loving it. I have to give props to Terry for showing me that the path I had just started leads to someplace extraordinary!
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A public memorial for Terry Tomalin will be held at Fort De Soto Park’s East Beach near Shelter 14 on Fri., May 27, at 7 p.m.
This article appears in May 26 – Jun 2, 2016.
