Passions in Paradise

When people think of passion, their minds probably turn to the painted covers of romance novels—with bare chests and flowing hair twirling in a sun-speckled embrace. Others might think of famous movies—of a couple rolling breathlessly in the sand as waves crash about them. But in reality, passion comes in many forms, often with the power to change our lives. Here are three stories of Southwest Florida residents who have found their bliss by letting unexpected passions lead them to some very special places. 

The Kiss That Drew Applause 

It was April 28, 1960, when Gerry Spicer came home from school, pulled out her pink plastic diary and wrote the following passage: “Nothing exceptional happened today. Rhea N. asked me to the prom. I told him I would go, but I really don’t want to go at all. I don’t have any excitement over it.” 

Gerry was a shy junior attending high school in Largo. Her parents had moved her from New York a year earlier, and she was still pining for a boy there. So when Rhea Nichols asked her to prom, she was less than enthusiastic, but she agreed. 

“She was very quiet, and she didn’t eat much,” Rhea recalls. “We went to a nice restaurant that I spent a lot of money on, and she just picked at her food.” 

In her defense, Gerry’s dress was partially to blame. “My strapless undergarments were so tight,” she says. “I could barely breathe, and I couldn’t eat.” 

Despite these inauspicious details, both now agree they had a nice first—and only—date. Rhea meant to ask her out again, but school activities and sports got in the way. “After a while, I was too embarrassed to call her,” he says. “It had been so long.” 

After high school, the one-time couple went their separate ways. Rhea married his senior year sweetheart, went into the U.S. Air Force and eventually became a pilot for Delta Airlines. Gerry studied to be a nurse and moved to Minneapolis, where she met and married her husband, who worked for Northwest Airlines. 

Indeed, that aviation connection proved fateful for Gerry and Rhea, as they bumped into each other twice in the 1970s. Once, it was on a flight from Minneapolis to Honolulu and again a few years later at a coffee shop near Miami International Airport after Gerry and her husband had missed a flight. 

“They asked me for a loan so they could get home,” says Rhea, joking, who claims he was never paid back for the coffee money he leant them during their unplanned layover.

Time quickly passed—and years went by. The quiet, new girl from New York and the brainy baseball player next saw each other at occasional high school reunions. At first tentatively, then more familiarly, the couple would always reconnect at the events. And soon a tradition of sorts developed. 

“At each reunion, we would talk, and then we would have one dance,” Rhea says. “We would catch up on each other’s lives.” 

By now, dear reader, you can imagine where this tale is headed. In 2001, the Largo High School class of 1961 was preparing for its 40th high school reunion. It would be a dinner cruise with cocktails and dancing out on a moonlit Gulf of Mexico. 

“I am sitting at my computer, and I get an e-mail,” Rhea recalls. “She has written to me … asking if I was going to come to the reunion and reminding me to bring my dancing shoes. I was single at the time … and in the back of my head, I said, ‘Hmm. I wonder if she is single too.” 

She was—and a cyberspace spark was lit. An old affection was developing into something new and tender and blissful. At the reunion, Gerry and Rhea quickly found each other. Their one dance led to an all-evening conversation, a piano bar, a walk on the beach. 

“We came back to our cars parked at the marina, and we stood there all night long and talked and talked and talked into the morning,” Gerry recalls. As the first rays of the sun pierced the horizon, they shared a brief kiss. And suddenly, applause broke out. 

Fishermen arriving for early charter trips into the Gulf had been watching the strange couple that didn’t seem to move—and started clapping at the sign of affection. 

Fast-forward to today, and Gerry and Rhea Nichols just celebrated their sixth wedding anniversary. The couple now lives in Naples. Gerry owns the New To You consignment shop and is a professional calligrapher. Rhea is retired and helps his music teacher son, who owns a local company called Curricu-la-la-la. 

“I think it was kind of fate,” says Gerry about their long-hibernating romance. “I married all my prom dates,” laughs Rhea. 

A bit of foreshadowing can be found in Gerry’s diary, dated May 22, 1960—right after the junior prom: “He gave me two white orchids and were they ever beautiful. I had a really wonderful time, and I’m sorry it’s over.” 

Forty years later, it wasn’t over. It was just beginning. 

Tracking Down the Missing 

Troy Dunn is entirely humble when he looks back on his body of work. He basically says he is just honored to help people. 

Help might be considered an understatement. Dunn, who lives in North Fort Myers, has “helped” more than 40,000 people find and reunite with long-lost family and missing friends. Today, he is known to millions as “The Locator,” which is the name of the television show on the WE cable network for which he serves as executive producer and host. The show, in its second season, is the top-rated program on the channel. 

Dunn’s journey started in the late 1980s when he and his wife moved to Southwest Florida and opened a scooter rental business on Fort Myers Beach. The business became so successful that he began doing speaking engagements targeting other young entrepreneurs.