Skeletons, Closets, and it really is a small world.

I'm sitting at one of the two lunch tables watching two guys eat chicken. A father and son, both eating chicken out of a plastic container warmed in the microwave. Picking at it like you should while eating chicken. There's not one half a napkin between them. Just rubbing their hands on their clothing, both of them. The son eating just like his daddy taught him. Oh well.

Speaking of eating chicken, or crow rather, let me tell you a story about a wife and her husband. I have been asked to change the names to protect the guilty so; we'll call her "Cathy" or "C" for short. The husband we will call "Jack" or "J" for short as well.

C owned a sports bar on Main Street in downtown... um, let's say Cheesburg, got it? It was named something like "On Lookers". J was her bartender and they obviously met and eventually, eventually, married. They now have a house and a mess of kids.

Recently C has found time to participate in some school activities and one of those activities is a play of sorts, we'll call it a play. There C met another mom who was also helping out and became friendly. Nice woman, nice kids and it is hard to meet both these days. C is happy. She likes the woman. The woman's name is Amy. C doesn't have many people she calls her friends. Let's see, there's me, I think, and maybe even my wife. There may be another one or two but they slip my mind right now.

On the day of the play J comes around to watch. This is very unusual because when it comes to school activities, that man is Houdini. J is there and after the play he comes over to the ladies and patiently waits for C to introduce him to her new friend. C does the introduction and both parties are pleasant and forthcoming with the please-to-meet-chas and so forth. Then J smiles at C in his special sort of smile he saves for rare occasions.

A few minutes later, alone, C asks J what that was all about. He just smiled again. I think one could call it a "Cheshire Cat" smile. I have seen that smile before and learned from experience that one should proceed with caution, if one is foolish enough to proceed at all. C proceeds. C asks again, a little more serious this time and J smiles and asks the woman's name again and C says,"Amy, why?"

Another Cheshire smile. He also does this thing with his eyes while he waits for you to catch up. "What's her name?"

"Amy!"

"Right, Amy"

C begins to realize, slowly, what J is getting at. C is no dummy, but there is no way, no way what she begins to realize could be true.

J just stands there. Cheshiring, if you will.

C says,"No way!"

J chuckles,"Oh yeah, way."

"That can't be the same Amy!" C says.

"It is, the same Amy," the cat says. Grinning even bigger if possible because he now has someone in there with him, you know what I mean?

"Well I have to get back to work. See you later sweetie." J says and sort of struts away.

C just stood there. Is she really friends with J's ex-girlfriend? Afraid so.

After few minutes of stunned silence while C wondered about the cosmos and the jokes it is willing to play on people, she asked Amy if she remembered J. Amy said she remembered C, but not J.

"Well, he's your ex-boy friend."

Of all people, C wonders. She really likes this woman but she used to hate her.

Later in the day, at another school event where Houdini did not show, she told me the story. She had been doing the math all afternoon trying to figure the odds of meeting a befriending the only other woman in J's life in Florida, the southeast, the entire eastern side of the country.

I am sure J is still smiling and strutting.

There are no odds C. It is a small world and the skeletons get restless in the closet. Perhaps one should take friends as they come and husbands too. Everybody has a past.

They are Next

It is Tuesday night 6:00 p.m. and I'm feeling in poor health and buzzing by lack of sleep, moody, cranky, and sad. While my youngest daughter plays the sax at the middle school football game, my oldest daughter and I are at a meeting about class rings. My oldest daughter is sixteen and a junior. As a man, a grown man, I have a hard time thinking up a larger waste of money. As a father it would be nice to be able to to afford one for her. As an under-employeed former construction manager it is all moot because the funds to purchase this luxury just doesn't exist.

My daughter is holding out hope though, bless her heart. She's at the table right now with her more fortunate friends pondering choices- ring styles and stone cuts. She does deserve one. Her older brother didn't get one, didn't want one.

I'm here embarrassed, the only parent not in line or thumbing through the catalog( also the only father in the room). She knows I can't afford it. She doesn't know how much it breaks my heart for her.

"Form three lines!" the school superintendent says.
"Get your check books ready!" he says again smiling...at me.

One look at him and you know him. Never been broke, poor, hungry. Never been to a single place where he's ever feared for his life, or wallet. Doesn't know how close he is right now to getting punched in the mouth, the spoiled arrogant asshole.

You know he was never popular but was successful in school, his whole life in school. Never a star athlete, maybe participated in something lame, like...track, but now he runs this school. He's probably fired people due to budget cuts but probably has not been effected in the least by the recession. Guys like that believe those who have been effected deserve it: didn't study enough, not smart enough, not good enough.

But those who have been effected will make it and be what he will never understand. We will be survivors. We will win. He will not be stronger for these times. We, I, will be unstoppable. His spoiled bratty kids won't learn anything. Our children will be next greatest generation.

My sixteen year old daughter, without her class ring will have more life, soul, and responsibility. They will be next. They will be great regardless of how many video games they play, regardless of how much they txt.

They too will be survivors and there is no one anywhere stronger or better than a survivor.

I am proud of her.

Planes Aren't Angry and Buildings Aren't Innocent.

The High School band was to march with much of the community to commemorate 9/11. The march, really a walk, around a small lake and through a good part of the town was scheduled to start after some speeches and before a nice cook out. India and the rest of the band stood around, restlessly, in their plain black uniforms and berets looking like a rather large group of not quite ready french mimes. Unlike mimes though the band had a very hard time keeping anything close to quiet.

India thought about how hot and miserable it was in the early afternoon dressed all in black looking like a mine, she in fact mimed to her dad that she sooo hot by waving her hand at her face like a makeshift not very effective fan, like the kind fat ladies in church used to use in the old days. Her dad nodded to her in acknowledgment with a bemused look on his face. No one shared in the humor and Dad wondered how nobody else was getting the loud non-mime, miming. Too subtle he thought, to much going on.

There were many things going on, or so it appeared, but after walking around City Hall for ten minutes visiting the sparse and sad collection of vendor's booths one who was really paying attention realized there was really nothing to do but wait. Being the first time that India and her dad attended such an event, they didn't know what they were waiting for. India had that frenetic energy freshmen high school children always have when they are doing anything out of the ordinary, before they realize later in life how ordinary it really was. She was excited, the whole band was and they were swarming together like bees. Hot, black bees. Dad and other adults gave up on hoping to find anything of interest in any of the booths or in City Hall, where every adult at least walked through looking for a little air conditioned relief but found none. Dad hoped that City Hall was usually air conditioned because if not then the idea of a city job being a good job would be bunk.

India's dad knew what he was waiting on, he was waiting for the event to end so that he could simply go home, which was the last place India was thinking about right now. She was waiting for the march, the show, the first time the new band was going to march, but not the last. Dad, a veteran, had long given up the notion of patriotism and knew that most, not all, of it was marketing. Still they were here for a memorial and he was a trooper. Besides, he thought hopefully, if there is no relief from the sweltering heat soon India would start to beg to go home regardless of the excitement of the moment. If nothing else India was certainly practical and she does not like to be too hot. Dad thought that the heat may work for him today. The more she waved that ineffective fan the better. Then again maybe the food will be worth it, sometimes one gets a pleasant surprise at events such as these.

Speaking today is the local mayor, a sort of beefy looking lady the kind who has glasses hanging around her neck on a chain and hammed up the country small town image by saying "Ya'll" constantly. Following her is to be the local State Representative, just a man in a suit. Dad had never heard of either of them but then this was the next town over and not his district.

The ceremony was set to begin after what seemed like five or six hours but was probably only thirty minutes. The band quieted down and formed up and the band parents, who kind of congregated together near the front steps of City Hall making small talk about how hot it was, eventually quieted down as well. The National Anthem played first but not with out problems, eventually whoever was running what Dad thought just had to be a cassette deck figured out the proper sequence of switches and the music played loud. Too loud. It would seem the organizers hoped that anywhere between ten and fifteen thousand locals where going to attend instead of the two hundred, twenty five of which were band parents. Hats came off and hands went to chests, some "hoorah" types even saluted, keeping their hats on. Dad thought those were probably the bald guys.

Most people stared, eyes fixed, at Old Glory religiously, not Dad. India's dad did what he always does and looked at the people. He found jaded amusement in watching people during these ritualistic moments. Right next to him a little girl asked her mother what the flag next to the American flag was. Alright good question. The Answer? "I don't know honey. It must be the town's flag". Dad's eyebrows went up a little and his eyes kind of flickered back and forth and he said I'm sorry but that is the State of Florida's flag. Oh. Really? Yes ma'am, really. Oh.

The way too loud music finally subsided and the marching band went to parade rest and hats went back on heads and the bald dropped their salutes and hands came off chests and tears were wiped off the most patriotic of faces.

The mayor made her way to the podium, she began by telling the crowd that the state rep would speak next and then she reached for her glasses dangling around her neck on the fake gold chain and took out her piece of paper that she probably worked on for days. All Dad heard her say over and over was "ya'll". Upstaged by herself he thought laughing inside. She finished her country speech and stepped off the podium and walked away right though the middle of the crowd and was almost to the stairs of City Hall before she stopped turned around and returned to the podium to introduce the Representative. The rep she, in her speech fervor, momentarily completely forgot about. This is getting good thought Dad, and the band continued to stand in parade rest. India's shoulders sagging a little bit, hot.

Now the State Representative is a politician. Dad hoped he was a good one, he hoped India would get to see and here a professional speaker step up to a podium on a vital issue and just blow everybody away. That didn't happen. Dad had heard good speeches before and to be fair this one was not bad. Hell, the guy didn't have to do too much though, the crowd of small town country folks was already keyed up after the buffeting of the Anthem and it was after all, a 9/11 memorial ceremony. It would have been easy enough for this guy to push the crowd over the top. Instead he laid up. The speech did have its moments though and not bad...until the end.
He closed the speech by recalling the events of that horrible day and tried to rally the crowd and actually said with a rising voice,"When those angry planes flew into those innocent buildings". What? Wait, what? Did he just say angry planes and innocent buildings? He did didn't he. Dad asked the same band mother who didn't know the state's flag. She said yep, why? Nothing dear. Never mind.

Did anybody hear it? Oh yeah! Everybody heard it! Thundering applause! Good for the state guy. Dad was now thoroughly entertained but sadly could not find anybody else who realized he just gave objects personality traits with out simile. Maybe it isn't such a big deal he thought maybe he expected too much from the guy. Heck no! That guy is a professional. To Dad he was like your home team losing. Again. He was happy that the small town rally did not pull any news coverage, then again it would have been nice to have video. After asking s couple of people who just looked at him blankly Dad was worried that the gem was lost. It WAS lost on the crowd but there should have been some who he could have at least giggled with. Nope.

After the speeches the band was called to attention. The memorial walk began. Thirty minutes later it was over and everyone felt that they did their part to remember a tragic day in recent history. Time to eat. The band put away their instruments and relaxed a little, a good job done and there was new life in India's face. They were given permission to remove their black over jackets and Dad knew it was still going to be awhile before he would be able to drag India away.

The food was not bad, not great, not bad. There was plenty and there was something to drink and they were in the shade on the City Hall property. The community kids and the band kids and what must have been other kids bused in just to eat where running around raising all kind of hell and the trash cans filled up with paper plates, styrofoam cups, and napkins. Band parents where looking around for their kids and their kids were trying to make plans to go home with other kids. The hick mayor was not in site and the air conditioning was probably running in City Hall, and the State guy was probably half way back to Tallahasee. Dad was talking to some other parents, full, quenched, and finally, with a breeze, comfortable.

That was when India hugged her dad and said she was still hot and ready to go, then she pulled back and said Dad! Did you here that second guy's speech? He said that the planes were angry and the buildings were innocent and that's not right is it? People are angry and innocent not buildings, and I'm tired. Can we go? Yeah Baby, we can go!

At least it's over.

Steve picked up the bag and dusted his hand once more before slowly walking back up to the rubber. He's made this trip at least a thousand times maybe more. He sets and looks around the bases at his new team mates. The strain of the moment he loves and fears at the same time. Everyone, everyone is watching.

Johnny digs in. He's ready. Steve tries to out think him again. What pitch will he be looking for? He knows Johnny's good but he can beat him, he has before.

Steve has never seen the stands full before, not even playing college ball but tonight, his first road game, he is not in college, and the stands are full. His parents are even here for this game. There really is a crowd. Don't think about it right now. Just look at the catcher Steve, look at the catcher.

Steve was drafted to play minor league ball a year after John. John came up out of high school and Steve played a couple of years for the local community college and decided at least to start a college degree program. Baseball called. Hard. Steve settled for the time being with an Associates Degree. Johnny has bigger things in mind. For now they are both minor league players.

The catcher signals first pitch fastball low outside. Steve thinks it better be way outside because that's his little brother's favorite pitch, but Steve, a rookie, knows better than to shake off the catcher.

He throws fast.

Low.

Outside.

Way outside, ball one.

Steve hopes the catcher is a quick study because he knows that there is nothing Johnny wants more than to tee one off of Steve and go yard in front of their parents and Johnny's home crowd.

Breaking ball called, breaking ball delivered. John watched it go by. Strike one. Good call blue. He's not gonna like that Steve thinks. Focus. Focus.

Really? Low and outside again. OK. Ball two and the catcher doesn't like being behind in the count. Well neither do I, Steve practically yells out loud, but I'm not letting him hit a homer. Rather walk him.

After a time out and a quick discussion the catcher is on the same page. Thank god.

Fast ball.

High.

Inside.

Strike two.

The count is 2 balls, 2 strikes and what is Johnny looking for now? Steve knows what he's looking for and there is nobody in this packed ballpark that can make him give it to him even if his own mother came down to the mound and begged him.

Another breaking ball. Hangs on the corner and Johnny takes it. Hard, far. Very far.

Foul ball!!

Steve nearly passed out. Time to walk around the mound again. Whew.

Change up? Why not.

Ball three. That's why not. Crap.

Full count and it looks like everybody is on their feet. One pitch. One pitch. Next season Johnny will probably be in the majors. This next pitch will be discussed at the family holiday table for generations.

Fast ball. Low. Inside.

Steve delivers not inside enough but catches a break. Another foul ball.
He knows Johnny will never miss that again.

Fast ball. Of course. High, well it's better than low. Middle? I don't think so. We are going inside catcher.

The wind up.

The pitch. Boy that's blazing.

Crack!

Johnny gets every bit of it! He knew. Of course he knew. He's good. Nobody can hit like Johnny. Is that ball still flying? Steve knows he's going to hear how Johnny knocked the cover off of Steve's pitch the very first time the met on the field against each other.

And an RBI? It's over. Better to just leave town and baseball. Perhaps the Army could use him. That stings. Steve drops his head and sighs deeply. At least it's over he thinks.

The right fielder runs back and back to the warning track and keeps going to the fence. He jumps as high as he can not even really aware of what he's doing and comes down.

With the ball.

Well, at least that's over the right fielder thinks.

Still Straight

9/4/11

Went to a gay bar tonight. Kimber has a new BFF and I'm out : ) Kegan has a couple of gay friends and we all went out.

I shouldn't have gone with them just because I decided earlier today to get drunk at the pool and set about my goal with zest, meeting it with great success. After getting pissed and stumbling around for awhile at the pool, I changed to water and began to sober up. Of course that left me really too tired to go out but I ate and took a nap and got ready to go and because I don't go out too often, out I went.

It's small place on a back road in Ocala called the "Pub". They have a drag show on Saturday nights but as Laurie pointed out via text message "those Ocala "girls" are burly". Which turned out to be very true.

It was a shame I was too tired because it would have been fun and there was no weird pressure on my side because Kegan was there. They were all over him. He's a young good looking kid. He danced (slow) with a queen...twice. The second dance had some--well, ass rubbing. Very gay, and good for the queen I guess.

Everyone was very nice and the only mistake I think I made was politely lighting the cigarette of an aging and worn out queen who took the opportunity to rub my arm (a little creepily) and asked what was wrong because I didn't look to be enjoying myself. I was enjoying myself a hell of a lot more before that moment I can assure you.

The vast majority of the time I sat at the bar and tried to stay as close as possible to Kimber which proved difficult because she got very involved with Ocala's gay community tonight. I am however, very glad she had such a great time.

All is well and I am still very straight. It was an experience but regret not being rested enough to have more fun.

Apparently most people thought I was scared and though I may have looked it I was not. Mostly.

Batman Forever was on the TV over the bar and I watched most of it. That's the one with Robin and appropriate I think for a gay bar experience.

It is now 20 after 3 a.m. and exhausted I will try to sleep. One second, one minute, one hour...I continue and survive.