People were watching us. Staring, actually. My 17-year-old daughter was uncomfortable, as was her mother, my modest and distinctly non-Greek wife. On the other hand, our 16-year-old son, who shares his father’s Zorba-like hamminess, was lapping up the attention. We...

Driving in from Pensacola Airport, we hit the beach road, passing the loud, legendary Flora-Bama Lounge as we entered Alabama. High-rise condos, framed against a glistening turquoise ocean, mixed with modest beach shacks. BMWs shared the road with rusting Ford...

Remember that killer blonde in high school? Sure you do — every school had one. Tall, aloof, didn’t give you a second look — or a first. The less enlightened among us might have described her as “smokin’ hot to...