Tuesday, August 9, 2011

Little Girls

We were in Nickie’s, a Tybee Bar and restaurant oprated by my friend Dean, and Sam and Gordon were playing damn good live music. The atmosphere was festive, the food good and the people were supportive of one another.

It’s a shame it was a funeral.

But that is why we were there.

It was a glorious Tybee night. I’d taken the bike to have dinner with four girls and we feasted on Pizza. Then there were tattoos given and laughs had. Then I rolled home only to be told of the service. So I jumped back on my bike and got there just as the service was ending.

The bar was filled with a different kind of emotion. Normally it is laughter, sadness, lust, depression, community and lonliness … all happening at the same time. That is what happens in bars … but last night t was … filled with two things only … sadness … and people sharing it.

Jennifer the bartender had drowned in Florida. She has a four year old daughter and a boyfriend. They were there. As were a crowd of people who have little … except for one another.

This is the Bar Church crowd at its best.

Mostly those who struggle to raise enough money to pay rent so that they can continue to live in paradise. Sam had a bucket for people to throw in money that they do not have for the little girl.

It is hard not to love them. Especially when you see how we prop each other up. This is really what church is … not most of those steeple places.

Back home I sat on the beloved back deck sending love into the night. How can you not after experiencing such loss?

God had suspended a bright half-moon to shed me a ittle light. I needed to pack but I didn’t. The night was being too good. I whispered a prayer for Jennifer and her little girl who will grow up without her mother. I thought of the girls I’d delighted in pizza with earlier and sent them prayers too.

Dedra blew back in for all of this and was at the funeral and then later checked on me while I was on the deck. Dee is like a tornado … she blows in and out. Last night she brought a real one with her.

Storms blew the moon away.

Now I’m back in the airport … waiting on another plane … this time to Puerto Rico … where the very famous Dr. Jim Withers has somehow booked himself two ridiculously expensive hotel rooms when he only needs one … we’re meeting with Chaco (who thinks he is Che Guevara) but the three of us really love one another and do interesting stuff.

But what I am thinking about today are little girls.

One who lost most every thing.

And others … who have everything.