Last Wednesday Evening

Last Wednesday evening I spoke with Elizabeth on the phone.  She had lots to share.  Sutton has a new album with a big rollout planned in September, they’re going to Greece and Italy for Sutton’s birthday next month, they have extensive plans for Thanksgiving and Christmas, but perhaps the most exciting news is her new book.  It’s coming out in the spring and Arturo Laparra is doing the illustrations. That’s wonderful news for all of us.

I’m not going to spoil BZ’s big moment, but I have a bit to share.  The main character in her second book is a girl named Lena.  During our phone conversation she wanted to be sure I had never dated a Lena.  I hadn’t.  I did date an Aleta, but never a Lena. BZ doesn’t want to use any names of my old girlfriends. That’s probably a wise decision.  There weren’t many so she’s got a lot of options.

I think it’s a nice name, but I really hadn’t heard it before.  That is until the next day.  Elizabeth was the last person I spoke with last Wednesday.  My next conversation was the following day.  I had an appointment with my new cardiologist.  He’s in Grand Rapids.  I don’t have a Michigan cardiologist, and I thought I should get one.  When I walked up to the intake worker, I noted that her name tag read Alenna.  I was shocked.  I related the story about my daughter writing a children’s book and then I said, “The main character’s name is Lena.”

And the intake worker said, “That’s how I answer the phone.  Lena.”

I didn’t say it, but I thought, “Holy Batman.  What are the odds.”  Two conversations and both involved a Lena. I just assumed it was another time Ruth was letting me know she’s close at hand.

After my appointment, I met my sister, Jackie, and her main squeeze, Ted, for lunch in Lansing.  We had a brief conversation, and I continued on my way to play poker with my old crew.  I stay with one of my David friends most of the time.  I planned to do the same that evening.  He called me as I was driving downstate to tell me that he had to head out first thing on Friday morning for a dentist appointment.  I could still spend the night, but there’d be no breakfast in the morning.  He usually fixes breakfast, and we talk a bit.  There’d be no talk this time around.

Six of us played poker that night and told lies to each other just like always.  I started playing with this group forty-eight years ago.  Some of the faces have changed, but the newest guy has been playing over twenty.

Friday morning David was up and headed out early as planned.  We exchanged a few words, and he pointed to the coffee maker and refrigerator.  “There’s stuff for breakfast if you like.  Take your time.  Relax a bit.”  I told him I’d have a cup of coffee, take a shower and be on my way.

He left and I fired up the Keurig.  I sat down with my coffee and decided to see if I had any new texts or emails.  I opened my phone, and a picture of Billy Vera appeared.  It was one of those memory things that pop up from time to time.  Billy Vera and the Beaters sang a song that’s a favorite of mine.  When I clicked on the picture, the song popped up.  I listened.

While I listened, I flashed back to a time when another poker friend, Dirk Greep, and I sang a duet in Detroit’s Wayne County Metropolitan Airport.  We were on our way to Atlantic City on a gambling junket.  Dirk started to sing At This Moment, and I joined in. He sang the lead, and I harmonized. As we finished, two women about ten years our senior asked if we were professionals.  We replied in unison. “Yes, we are.”  And then I added, “We’re on our way to Atlantic City.”

They fired back, “We are too.  Where are you performing?”

I made up another lie and we parted ways.  If they looked, they never found us.

TBC