The Velvet Caravan

It used to be 60 Minutes that defined Sundays for me. The culmination of the weekend was watching the show. When I was a "Professional Christian" inexplicably in charge of a Baptist Church I set time records for the evening service ending so that I would be home in time for Andy Rooney. I think several of the little old ladies who were the core of the congregation got whip-lash because as soon as they arrived for church ... it was over. Homeless guys just shrugged their shoulders and split another bottle of communal wine. After the Baptists left me ... or I left the Baptists, I'd spend Sundays on the beach looking at girls in Bikinis. It was great! Towards the end of the day, I'd lumber home, throw something on the grill, uncork a bottle, and settle in with 60 Minutes. I'm not certain what the draw was. Initially perhaps it was intellectual curiosity. In those days I walked around reading four books at once while chancing Jeremy and Kristen's diapers. Later, Chelsea and I would log hours on the beach together while I read novels about Travis McGee and I suppose 60 Minutes had become an addiction. Besides, I've always thought Lesley Stall was hot. Those days are over. It was a cloudy, rainy day at the beach yesterday so Sarah and I sat on the porch that we conducted a hostile takeover of from Rocky. The Braves game was on the television though I was napping. Sarah was speed reading a Grisham novel (a page a minute!). The rain fell harder. "There is music with no words tonight that I want to hear," she said though whatever fog I was in. "Then there is music with words that we can go to for you." Sarah often speaks in tongues. I had no idea what she was talking about. But at six o'clock we wandered onto the decks of North Beach Grill where I was immediately accosted by their hoodlum waiter Sean, the lovely bartender Amanda and the other not-so-lovely bartender Travis. Sarah stood in horror while these people attacked me. After I fought them off, we found a table. Dedra ... known on the island as D-Luv ... as opposed to Jeremy who is know as J-Luv ... joined us ... walking like an Egyptian. We ordered crab cakes, meat loaf, red beans and rice as the band occupied the deck next to us. Our friend Al joined us. Laughter erupted. The band consisted of a violin, classic guitar, upright base and an electric piano ... The Velvet Caravan. They were freakin' great! A little blond haired girl with blazing blue eyes danced in front of them. Grayson, who apparently forget to pay his Al Qaeda dues, stood clean shaving and smiling. The congregation of listeners all seemed happy and content. "You ever been been to Splash Mountain?" Sean the hoodlum waiter asked in my ear. "This is the band." We cracked up. Then it was off to Doc's Bar for "Singer/Songwriter" night. Commandeering stools at the bar, Jefferson Owens told us that there is no such thing as "Ordinary People" and that C. S. Lewis told him so. It was wonderful news. While all of this was happening, 60 Minutes was on television. I have no idea what they talked about. But I do wonder ... is Leslie Stall still hot? Ah, it doesn't matter. Sarah and I came home together. There are kids. Sarah is hot and got on the velvet caravan.