His smile is infectious transforming the imposing Lumberjack into a friendly Elf.
"How does he do that?" I say out loud sipping my wine.
I'm dressed in a white UGA tee shirt, black running shorts and flip-flops resting on the floor as my feet lay in the window.
He is a multi-talented man ... politician, warehouse manager, elected official but, most importantly, a really fine guitar player and singer.
Monty hosts his own Jam on Tuesday nights in the Bar formally known as "Doc's".
I don't know why it's formally known as "Doc's" but on the plate glass window where it used to say "Doc's" ... well everything that used to be there is there ... expect for "Doc."
I knew Doc and he'd probably turn over in his grave over the whole name thing were he still alive ... which he's not.
I think the names in litigation or something.
But everything's in litigation on Tybee these days.
Most people don't like Lawyers these days ... and there's lots of jokes about them ... like ...
"What do you call a smiling courteous person at a Bar Association Convention ... The caterer."
Or ... "Why did God invent Lawyers? ... so that Real Estate Agents would have someone to look down on."
I checked that last one out with Shirley Sessions.
She says it's true.
Okay ... one more ... "What do you call 25 Skydiving Lawyers? ... Skeet."
Shirley didn't say anything about that one.
Anyway, Monty and I are meeting for beers and friendship ... a pretty good combination.
I have no recollection of anything we discussed and will deny everything when ... not if ... called upon in Tybee Court.
Everybody eventually is summoned to Tybee Court.
I'm denying everything though about Monty and me.
Because that's what friends do for friends.
Which reminds me ... "How many Judges does it take to screw in a light bulb? ... One ... She's convinced the world revolves around her anyway."
