I am learning that becoming a full time beach bum is more difficult than I could have ever imagined. It seems that I have a reputation that I just can’t shake. So as I stroll down the beach, cleverly hidden behind sunglasses and a baseball cap, I see this woman running towards me.
“Micheal!” she screams even though she is only a couple of feet away from me. I pull the buds from my ears and Bob Marley disappears.
She is older and wearing a one piece leopard skin bathing suit that almost contains her breasts. She is a professional tanner because skin is the dark, dark brown that comes from spending time worshipping the sun on a daily basis. Her long hair is frosted some color that I could never have imagined.
“Micheal,” she begins, “I am so glad to run into you. I need your help.”
I am wondering how she could have possibly have recognized me? I wasn’t wearing my normal UGA baseball but to throw everyone off had on the official cap of the Bored that has “Official Tybiodit” written on it. On the back it reads “Tybee Island Bored meeting”. The lady has powerful discernment abilities.
I have no idea who she is.
“Micheal, my son is hooked on crack. Tell me what to do.”
The weariness that I am running away from crept up my spine and rested on my shoulders.
“Aw Baby I’m sorry,” I say giving her a hug.
I call women Babe or Baby a lot. I got it from my friend Herb McKenzie. I used to call everybody “Luv” like I was one of the Beatles or something but Herb got me using his phrases. It is not politically correct and can get you in a lot of trouble but I don’t care. I probably use these words because they can get me in trouble.
“Babe, I don’t run Union Mission any more. Frances Carter does. But this is what you should do if, and the “if” here is big, HE IS ready to do something about it. You can’t quit for him.”
Her eyes grew moist and I didn’t know what to do so I gave her another hug. I think that God created hugs for when words won’t work.
I tell her who to call and what to as; the things that I would do if I was still in charge of anything. But I am not.
I am a beach bum dammit! On a beautifully glorious beach bum kind of day! With a cooler full of ice cold beer right over there! And Bob Marley is patiently waiting on me to return so that he can explain that he shot the sheriff! And there are girls in bikinis everywhere!
But the tears roll down her cheeks and a lump rises in my throat. So I hug her again as the sunshine falls down all around us.
