Bright sunshine on a warm cloudless morning made Savannah especially lovely.
Wandering out of The Savannah Bank towards moss draped Johnson Square, I pause to notice the political rally taking place."ELLIOTT," Congressman Jack Kingston screams, "I NEED TO TALK TO YOU NOW!"
"Shit," I mutter but it's part of the job so I meander across the street.
All the Republicans in charge of everything are there and, after Jack greets me warmly, it seems as every one of them are glad I'm there, appreciative of something I'd done for them and needed something now.
Completely surrounded I'm the center of attention and enjoying every second of it!
"DADDY," I hear from the familiar voice. "DADDY!"
And Willie Page shuffles his uncooperative legs towards me.
The Republicans part like the Red Sea as the little black man with yellow teeth, flaky skin and a child's brown eyes strolls in and hugs me.
"HEY DADDY," he says in his raspy voice while keeping an arm around me.
"You're his Daddy?" Kingston asks.
"It's a long story," I reply ready to kill Willie on the one hand but absolutely loving him for coloring the rally something other than red on the other.
Then again, I love the red and black ... Go Dawgs!"
The Republicans are done with me though so Willie and I make our way to the Ice Cream shop beside the Barber Shop on Bull Street where he likes to hang out.
I buy him Ice Cream and ask, "What do you want?"
"Daddy, can I come home?" he explains giving me his sad child face and licking the Ice Cream.
He means Grace House, the homeless shelter I ran. He'd lived there twice and loved it both times.
The first time he was a "success story" because we got him on disability and found him "permanent housing" in a boarding house but ... Willie missed us ... so he got himself kicked out and moved back into the shelter.
"Willie," I yell, "you cannot live in a frigging homeless shelter for the rest of you life!"
"I love you Daddy," he sheepishly replies.
"Listen," I fire back, "you get yourself kicked out of your next home then we're not going to be friends anymore. I'm not giving you any more birthday money either."
Horrified, Willie suddenly became the perfect client and a few weeks later we find him his new home.
A decade later he stumbles into the Republican Party and me.
I love him.
"Daddy, come see me play," he begs so one day I go to City Market and watch him play a string less guitar with Bucky and Barry, happy and in love with the people who love him.
It was the last time I saw my son.
He died today after a long stay at Hospice having stamped himself on the hearts of many.
So hey Willie, on behalf of a lot of us ... Thank you.
You were incredible making more lemonade out of the worst lemons ever!
And I can only imagine how long it's going to take the Angels to drag you from the Heavenly Banquet because ... God you love to eat!
Thank you most for teaching me by being you.
Because you were incredible!
