Buying a hat from the Hat Lady is more than just buying a hat. It is to peer into the life of a beautiful woman who has lived an intriguing life on more than one continent. I’ll call her Golda and if you want her real name and contact info you have to write me.
I was looking for a Panama Hat to cover my lily white melon and ended up on a tree lined street in the shadow of the nations capitol. The parlor is lined with gorgeous hats and various collectible headgear. But the real attraction here is not the hats but the scintillating (love that word) conversation provided by the hostess, Golda. I only got a scant look into her past but I want to know more, and you will too.
We spoke of hats, Jews, Ireland and the English. I am looking for an excuse to go back and think I have found it. I have an old straw fedora that is too big and I know Golda can fix it. Even if she can’t it will be an eventful visit.
Golda has a PHD in a subject I barely understand, is a published author and is writing a book right now. If you need a chapeau and you are anywhere near DC write me and I will steer you into a memorable visit.
I noticed him in Starbucks but paid no attention. He left right before I did and appeared to be heading towards a car in the lot as I was. When he turned in my direction I immediately went on guard because I sensed he was coming at me. He was.
He suddenly appeared confused and I smelled the alcohol. All he wanted was to talk but he had trouble saying what it was he wanted to talk about. I let my guard down a little and told him I would listen but he had to spit it out. He made no eye contact with me and rolling back and forth on his feet he told me he was lost and needed help…he was looking for someone to help him.
I am still not sure exactly what he expected of me. It occurred to me that he might have targeted me in Starbucks. I seem to be a magnet for the destitute. What I know is he is 52 years old, a drunk with pipe dreams of being an artist. What he needs to do is toss the bottle of Vodka in his backpack, remain sober until morning and get his ass to an AA meeting. That’s exactly what I told him. I gave him my email address and if he wanted to talk email me after being sober for a week and I’d meet him for coffee.
Did he think I had some answers he had never heard before, did he suppose I would befriend him and let him just go on and on with the woe is me bullshit all substance abusers want some poor soul to listen to. There are no easy answers, there is no yellow brick road. Life is equally unfair to everyone and it has been since the beginning of time. I told him to get sober and help himself with the support AA is so good at offering. Maybe not what he wanted to hear but what he needed to hear.
I am a human being. I expect to be treated as human being, and I treat everyone the same. I will meet him for that coffee if he does what I told him to do.
Everyone in America should find and go to a gay club in their area and stand in solidarity. Show those fucking bastards that when they attack any American they attack all Americans. We will not let them divide us and all of us will fight back.
Met an interesting chap yesterday while fishing a nice little pond in Rockville. I was fiddling around with my camera with my rod tucked under my arm and sank a treble hook in the back of my shirt. Thinking that I must look like a farmer struggling to free the hook I blurted out…I hate treble hooks…when I heard a voice with a Spanish accent offer to help. With a few quick nips of a pair of pliers I was free. His name was Roberto and he was from El Salvador. He pointed to a rock and a half submerged tree across the pond and told me that’s where the fish are. I thanked him and trudged to that spot around the other side of the pond.
I love casting artificial baits. Every now and then you launch the perfect cast and the lure lands softly right where you want it to. It was a phone message from my step son that got me thinking about my failure to preserve my marriage. Something that I fear will haunt me for a good long time. I heard a voice and it was him again. Roberto saw I was troubled and sat down next to me on the big rock. He spoke of his love and devotion to God. He said God would make everything alright. Then he left.
I feel better now, a man of God, a couple perfect casts and a beautiful pond…life is good.