A Future To Build

Brooks Stillwell strolls inside the Breakfast Club looking like an Eskimo. Baseball cap, fleece jacket, blue jeans ... I didn't look at his feet but I imagine he had shoes on. Sitting on the stool next to me, he saw that I wore running shorts and a long sleeve tee-shirt ... no shoes. "Hey Micheal," he warmly says with a grin. Brooks has one of the most infectious grins I've ever seen. It's this cross between Impish and Deep. He's also got these dark eyes resting under dark eyebrows so when he grins and looks at me I feel he's really a wizard impersonating an attorney. Everybody working at the Breakfast Club stops cussing as he does so. The radio is quickly changed from the Comedy Channel with lots of cussing to a Blues Station. All of the wait staff go on break. Brooks is the first customer of the day. Well ... Whitley and I are there having coffee but we don't count. Brooks has done everything. He was managing partner at Savannah's largest and most prestigious Law Firm, a City Councilman who could have been Mayor if he'd wanted but he's too smart for that, attended the University of Georgia and likes Aimee Mann. He's pretty cool. "What are you doing these days?" he asks throwing the morning edition of the Savannah Morning Blues on the counter, rubbing the chill from his hands and giving me that grin. It is very hard not to like Brooks. "Well," I stumble to answer, "I'm consulting but I don't like it much." "Oh?" he asks with wide dark eyes. "Yeah, we develop these contracts which we sign and then we spend the rest of our time arguing about what the contract says." He laughs gleefully. "That's my business. You need an attorney." Everybody working at the Breakfast Club stops what they're doing and stares at him ... including the wait staff. Whitley gets up and leaves without saying a word. "So I'm writing a lot ... and working with friends to launch this new multimedia, social media web dimension where everything is posted in real time." "I posted some pictures on Face Book recently," he says with that grin. "Oldies but goodies." "I saw them," I say. We chat about Orange Crush, the annual informal gathering of several thousand African-American college students on the beach, the trash they left behind, the dinner he had last night and the things that people who like one another but rarely see one another talk about. He orders. I slap him on the back, tell him how good it is to see him and leave. Then there is this moment. It happens every morning when I leave the Club. After yelling "Bye Kids!" to everyone and them yelling all manner of embarrassing things back, I stroll into the middle of 15th Street, look to my right, and see the sun rise over the ocean. It gives me pause. A new day is born. I have the chance to start over. The past is wiped clean. Whatever restlessness that happened in the night remains there. My mind's focused on the things I want to accomplish. I am determined. Suddenly, I turn around in the middle of 15th Street and stare back inside. A chilly wind blows as a brilliant sun shines on me. Brooks is reading the paper sipping coffee. The wait staff has no one else to wait on. The Chefs prepare a breakfast for one. The Dishwasher washes dishes. Brooks gets his two eggs over easy, bacon, wheat toast and side of grits. The Chefs prep. The wait staff waits. I am thankful. Sarah is home waiting on me. Wen and Sean are waiting on me to do things. A publisher wants a meeting. Friends are waiting for me in the other island. Dedra will be back soon. The controversy that used to be my life is on the other side of the River where Brooks works ... in Savannah where Authorities on Homeless are blowing up, the place I used to work continues a magnificent downhill slide, Board chairmen who choose to remain anonymous reign because they're too scared to say who they are, and Senator Buddy Carter has hired some company to see how many Face Book friends he can amass. It's been a long, hard road to get to where I'm at right now ... standing in the middle of 15th Street with the chills of the past blowing on me and the sunshine of the future drawing me there at the same time ... I turn around and head home. There's work to be done. A future to build.