I just got back from Naples, Florida and I’m reporting the recession is over down there. Everyone eats out twice a day, walks small white dogs that never poop, and the traffic rolls by like an auto show. There are no fire sales, no foreclosures, no discouraging words. The blithesome Florida Neapolitans, it seems, are beneficiaries of $1.2 billion in annual area tourist spending, a tsunami of financial balm.

So I’m thinking: Florida has a Naples; we’ve got a Naples. They’ve got a marina; we’ve got a marina. They fish and play golf; we fish and play golf. They have a three-month season; we have a three-month season. They’re mostly older white folks who didn’t vote for Obama –just like us. So how come they’re attracting the bling-bling, while we’re catering to the two-piece meal crowd? Why can’t we make Naples, Maine more like Naples, Florida?

Here’s the trick of it: to get rich, you have to think rich. Act like money doesn’t matter. For instance, in Naples, Florida they think nothing of charging $200 to play a round of golf. I play locally for $16. Why can’t Maine get the decimal point in the right place?

Admittedly, we’ll need to make a few adjustments. We should start charging $40 for a lobster dinner like they do in Florida, because they’re serving crayfish. We need to put in giant rows of potted Royal Palm trees along our own Naples causeway to give their 5th Avenue some competition, and let’s set up a collection date for everyone to donate their plastic lawn flamingos. Someone should probably tell Dick Dyke we need to turn his house back into a restaurant. Perfect place for one really.

Each of us needs to better look the part, too. Ladies, you’ll need to abandon the jeans and rubberized footwear and start strutting around in something with a hem floating above your new 5-inch heels. Guys, let’s get some hats without earmuffs, and c’mon, tear the NASCAR patches off your sport coat.

We could use some help. Be nice if they renamed the jetport Naples Jetport, and while they’re at it put in a modern luggage system to replace what, however sadly, appears to have fallen under the control of raccoons. There’s really no excuse for having enough time to get your car repainted before your bags arrive.

I’m thinking it would be smart to transform our Dollar Stores into Fifty-Dollar stores, and we might consider adding new attractions, too. Maybe a zip-line tour down the Crooked River. How about a world-famous cosmetic surgery wing at Bridgton Hospital?

We can do this. We’ve got drinkable water; down there what passes for potable you wouldn’t leave in a bowl for your ferret. They have Red Sox spring training within reach, but we have Mother Fenway. They’ve got Jeb, but we’ve got George Walker. Plus we have at least a few places to park. They’ve got alligators sleeping in the sand traps.

I don’t know about you, but I’m tired of living in an over-taxed state that can’t figure out how to make a buck on a half-gallon of imported vodka, or keep Mainers from driving to New Hampshire to buy everything from HDTVs to decent fireworks. So I’m offering this Great Recession Financial Recovery Plan to our state’s department of tourism and economic development. At no charge. I’ll even make myself available for some out-sourced consulting. We all have to do our part.

Besides, if this idea doesn’t work out, no problem. Not far from Naples, Maine there’s a nice little town called Paris.

Rick Roberts is a veteran of Boston’s advertising community and the U.S. Army. He resides in Windham. He is author of two books: I Was Much Happier When Everything I Owned Was In The Back Seat Of My Volkswagen, and the recent novel, Digital Darling. Both are available at bookstores, Amazon.com, or visit: BabyBoomerPress.com.