Down to the beaches of North Carolina, college town, my home town, with my 2 sons to see the grandparents and my lone brother. Divorced since I was 10, both my parents are well into their 70’s. My father married 3 times, he likes women, I have his knack for talking to people. My mother married twice, she really doesn’t like men, have wondered whether she was a closeted lesbian and Deep South attitudes just kept it submerged. She can open a conversation with a mailbox. I have this as well. It’s hard to watch your parents age, is it because you fear you’re the next act up?
We hang out at our beach club where we’ve been members for over 40 years. Everyone knows you. And they remember you when you were 8 years old too. Nice, but I wonder what they’d think if they knew what I’d be up to. Everyone is from someplace, this is where I’m from. I switch gears to operate in Southern mode. “Hi you doing?” to everyone. It’s nice, but it’s a shell. High school kid is working in the kitchen, long blond high lighted hair, beautiful almond eyes, he should be a fashion model, I find myself chatting him up, bad dog.
After dinner one night, I’m wandering the old downtown, new bar, interesting, it’s a gay bar! My god, I go in, it’s early. 2 stories, outdoor patio. This is very nice. It’s only 9. No one in the place (plus it’s summer). I chat with the bartender, starts rocking at midnight and goes until 3. Wow. How times change. I wonder my fate had this been here during my college days.
Back home, haven’t been in my own bed for last 2 weeks, exhausted. Tomorrow, back to work. Region VP on the line with me, “Can you come to Panama and Puerto Rico?”. Sh*t. More brown. “Only if you have handcuffs”, I replied.