Slice of Good Ol Boy Life

Uprooted Olive Tree

Hurricane battered we enter the autumn of this chapter. There are no physical seasons in Florida. Only hot and hotter.

I’ve been going to see my friend Jubal lately. He doesn’t have any cats and I’m okay with that. We are roughly the same age. A contemporary you might say. He gets me which is why he can invite me into his inner sanctuary or send me away without hestitation.

Jubal owns a loft in Fort Lauderdale, near the city’s urban core. He works with his hands and often goes away for months to work on ships. He is intelligent in a way I cannot think. Like a lot of my friends, Jubal believes the world is screwed and yet he seems to come up with an amusing antidote for all of the world’s ills.

As we stood on his rooftop watching jets hum all around, Jubal noticed me studying the surroundings.

“No, we’re not in the country,” Jubal remarked.

Buildings in the horizon and the sounds of bus brakes and car horns on the streets below signal we are indeed in a city.

Night comes quicker now. Darkness gaining the upperhand on light. Hurricane Irma wrecked havoc on South Florida and the Keys. Hurricane Maria destroyed Puerto Rico. Jubal called the storms “weak.” It was his way of projecting strength in the face of challenging times. The jets we watched arriving and departing were not all commerical passenger airliners. Some were four engine turboprop transport planes carrying supplies on search and rescue missions.

“San Juan will come back,” Jubal said in a serious tone. It was a rare moment for him.

The hurricane season was yet another blow in a depressing year. What started with a change in Washington has went downhill fast. Tricked into thinking I could be a politician again and fueled by ego and regret — a dangerous combination — I lost a summer to grief. Knowing I need to snap out of it before hit with a real loss to my soul I have begun seeking atonement.

David continues to care for me and is a dedicated and loving spouse. Geraldo, Daniel, Jubal and Horacio are friends I deeply love. I am grateful people still pay me to write. Freelance journalism, contrary to what some might say, is not free.

I continue to seek adventures in far off lands and until that day comes I will make the most of my time with family and friends in Florida. As my therapist tells me, we create our own attitudes. We can choose to create sadness or joy. I’m ready for joy. Let me take this phone call.

Ciao For Now.