De Day Start Okey-Day

Shades of a certain day in 1972 when my writing jones kept me from going out to play. It's a beautiful day at the lake, but my impressions of the day's adventures begged to be written about first.

At 9 AM my friend called me. I dozed twice, then recieved him and offered him a home-cooked breakfast. As I expected, as we'd planned, he offered me brunch "out" instead. I offered to pay but, as I expected, he insisted on taking the tab. We both knew I couldn't afford much of anything, but that would not have kept me from paying for brunch today. Because today I was resolved to have a serious talk with my friend -- we'll call him Kyle, and I didn't expect him to like what I had to say. Then again, I didn't expect him to prevail against what I had to say, which is what ended up happening, for better or for worse.

Last night I suffered a good deal of anxiety over the whole idea of this divorced man taking such a liking to me. I'm a Christian and a Catholic. If I understand this matter correctly then, in the divine reckoning, Kyle's ex-wife is in fact his wife, and for him to regard me the way he does won't do. It makes me feel guilty. At the same time, I'm all keyed up and full of myself because somebody likes me. Last night I discussed it with Russ, who agreed that I should stop keeping company with Kyle. I said to Russ that I generally don't mind taking the role of muse; but the fact that Kyle was divorced made the difference. But Russ wasn't giving me that much credit. "I'm a good muse!" I protested, "I'm good to the people who like me." He said that, yes, I was, but that this kind of situation was a temptation to me because I was prone to enjoy it too much. I'll allow that, I guess.

So I got in Kyle's van and he started driving east. Now, the job interview to which he was driving me was south of my apartment, as was the restaurant (Baranoff) which would have been a natural choice for brunch. When I asked where he was going he replied to my dismay, "McDonalds." When I wouldn't have that, his next try was Jack-In-The-Box. Now, I had offered him healthful food at home, so I was well within my rights to nix both of the above. We turned southward, the bad news on the radio dampenening my mood (more about that later, perhaps.)

I told him about my resolution, which was difficult because at first he didn't understand. He thought it was about the way he treated me. But at length I managed to convey that, in the context of his marriage, it was the disposition of his heart that really counted. He agreed to keep his heart true to his wife, but asked that I not refrain from keeping him company since she had left him all alone and he needed a friend to talk to. It wasn't what I had planned, but I decided to keep our friendship.

Please, dear reader, don't get me wrong. As far as I'm concerned, people can love me or be attracted to me all they want -- unless they already have a wife; then it's no good.

By now we were pretty far south, near the port of Seattle. We finally settled on brunch at Denny's. I should not have been surprised when he suggested splitting a Grand Slam breakfast. "I eat small," he explained. Not a bad idea, I must confess! I didn't miss the luxury of a big breakfast.

At brunch, the conversation went from food to diet, and I had to admit that eschewing junk food may or may not have enhanced or protected my health. Kyle allowed he'd eat anything under the sun. Has he had the expected circulatory problems? Yes. Have I had the [in my case unexpected] circulatory problems? God be thanked; I have not. Does this mean that I'm right, he's wrong and I have gloating rights? No, you really can't tell for sure. But I'm sticking to my guns on the one hand, and remembering gratitude toward my maker on the other. I imagine there are people who do all the right things and sink; while others do all the wrong things and swim.

Kyle took me (we joked that he Shang Hai'd me) to his familiar haunts. He spent an hour picking through a Goodwill store, purchasing things for both of us. I think he appreciated the humor when I said, "You have to be really bored to hang out at a place like this." I don't know what he's going to do with all the stuff he got for himself. At one point he showed me what looked like candle holders and asked what they were for, to which I replied, "They're for dusting. When you dust your apartment, you dust those too." He put them back. I'm sure he appreciated the humor there too.

One thing I appreciated about Goodwill that morning is that they played 70's music on the public address system -- the music of the heyday of America -- while peddling the old junk of America. It was archaeology with ambiance. Bye-bye, America. I hope Barack Obama can save us.

[to be continued next post]