Perhaps it's because of the limited geography, islands have watery boarders, and it's easy to get from one end of Tybee Island to the other. The drive is only a few minutes. A bike ride from the south end to the north end takes less than fifteen. Depending on the shape you're in you can walk it in under an hour. I suppose you could swim around it but I have no idea how long that would take.
"Everybody who lives on an island is either running to ... or from ... something," Jane Fishman once explained to me.
The trick is knowing who is who.
While my house is nearer the south end it has been the epicenter of activity this weekend. Friday night we had party with my carnival of friends and were having a good time on the beloved back deck. Rocky strolled upstairs which was fine but then these other people followed her route and suddenly there were more of us. Then a friend of a friend who's not a friend at all broke in and silenced the entire party.
So the sign that has hung beside the front door "The Elliott's, Est. 1999" though in face we dissolved years ago, was finally replaced with a new sign welcoming warning.
"Friends of friends may not bring friends!"
Then we ended up at Doc's Bar which is easy to get to from my house. Doc's is Tybee's oldest bar. It's nickname is "The Geriatric Ward" because of the common age of most patrons. Nevertheless it is normally fun and it certainly was then. Johnny O introduced us to a real life "Pocahontas".
After later being questioned about this by his wife Judy O, he responded, "You just don't like the fact that ethic women are attracted to me."
To which Judy O said, "I don't like the fact that you're attracted to whores ... unless they're my whores."
She meant us.
The Carnival of friends.
Yesterday was a blur. We were entertaining as soon we were up. After orchestrating a brunch at the Breakfast Club, we went to Nicki's birthday party. Nicki is the Godfather of the Mafia on Tybee. He owns most of the businesses on the island so we had to go. He's also the bails bondsman on the island so ... we had to go. You never know when you're going to be one of those ... running from something.
Then it was back to the house where the Bar Church band had scheduled a practice for this year's Christmas cantata. Only three showed up and the choir director was missing-in-action. So we practiced without him until out-of-town quests arrived demanding dinner.
I wasn't cooking again so it was off to Jenny O's "Full Moon Party" at Marlin Monroe's. Platters of seafood, fresh grouper, grilled pineapple and ... two chicken fingers filled everyone. And intense coloring contest broke out. Lots of friends dropped by our table, some bearing gifts. The crowd grew into a frenzy. Dancing was fierce. The music was great.
And in the middle of a mosh pit, we looked at one another and knew it was time to go. So quick goodbyes were given and we escaped the eruption of good times and went back home.
A fresh Christmas tree had been put up for the first time in years. Old fashioned colored lights gave it a glow from my childhood. The handful of ornaments that were not thrown out hang on it. "Joy". A peace sign. Santa Claus swimming with a dolphin. And hand painted "Snoopy" sitting on a snow man that I'd done as kid in Port Wentworth where I grew up. On top is an angel that my beautiful daughter Chelsea made me when she was a kid.
So we sat underneath the tree in the quiet of the night, away from the hustle and bustle of city sidewalks, full moons and carnivals of friends.
The first Christmas has begun.
