Every Little Thing

I bought new flip flops yesterday in the Bahamas. Bob Marley's. Who knew Bob was into flip flops? I mean I know that he wore them when he has to wear shoes but to have his own brand 40 years after his death ... the man remains incredibly cool.

My old pair was worn out. There was no cushion to them at all. They were Reefs that had logged many a mile. They were a gift from Julie a long time ago. Having grown up in Port Wentworth, Georgia, flip flops were not a part of the southern culture. Sneakers were although we called them tennis shoes for some reason. I mostly went barefoot which remains my shoe of choice.

When I first started wearing the flops it was awkward squeezing my toes together to keep then from falling off. Eventually I got the hang of it and if shoes were required then flops became my first option if I couldn't go barefoot.

So I left Julie's gift in a Bahamian trash can and slid into my Bob Marley's. The temperature was in the 80's, I sipped a Tropical drink, listening to a really fine Reggae band play an outdoor show on the Straw Market. Sarah was shopping for the girls and the plan was to work on our tans as we prepare for bigger things in a few days.

Sliding her arm into mine, we made our way back to the boat. My feet felt great though my arm felt better. We ran into Johnny O and Judy O getting off the boat as we were getting back on. Twenty minutes later we were all at the poolside bar with the Carnival of Friends.

A Reggae Band played Bob Marley. "Three Little Birds" ... With the refrain "Every little thing is gonna be alright.".

It was a rotten time when Bob wrote the song. Jamaica was in Civil War and he was am international Superstar. The warring factions tried to recruit him but he cared little for politics. The masses wanted to know what he thought. So he invited the leaders of the warring factions on stage with him and grabbed their hands pulling then over his head. Six tightly glassed hands.

"One Love," he said.

And that was it.

They were pissed and the violence got worse. In despair, Bob smoked a spliff and heard three little birds sing. "Every little thing's gonna be alright." and he wrote a song about sitting there listen to God speak through three little birds.

Sarah and I locked eyes for the briefest of seconds. There is a lot going on and all of it is not good, family and friends have forsaken us, work is being created and defined by the seat of our pants, there are families to blend and I've never dine corporate taxes before ... but you know what?

Every little thing's gonna be alright.

And when I forget, I'll slide into my Bob Marley's ... while Sarah's arm slides into mine.