Hope

"I'm sorry sir," she says as we enter the Club House at "The Landings", "but I can't let you in."

The elderly man and I stop in front of the maître d, smartly dressed in black slacks, vest, starched white shirt with a beatific smile.

"You're wearing a tee shirt," she explains.

Of course I'm wearing a tee shirt. When shirts are necessary, tee shirts are my first option. Today's choice is a formal black cotton with gold embroidery proclaiming to the world that Sarah and I along with Jan and Dick had dined at "Palm Coast" in St. Martin.

My 94 year old companion leans on his cane and waits. We're close friends. He's a mentor and in his twilight years, when most of his friends have died or no longer bother with him, I make the hour long drive every month or so to spend time with him. I owe the man a lot.

"Well then," I say in exaggerated fashion, "what can we do about this travesty?"

Smiling, the maître d tells me she has a collared shirt that I can wear above my kaki shorts with tons of pockets and flip flops. The Club House at "The Landings" is serious about dress codes!

She hands me a God-awful orange, gold-fish colored collared shirt which I slip on in front of everyone already seated in their collared shirts. All stare at me, forks suspended in air, tea glass in hands and the more refined taking quick gulps of white wine.

"Hey!" I say to the maître d, "I look damn good in this God-awful shirt! Will you take our picture?"

Thrusting my I-phone into her hand, she giggles as she snaps our photo. Then we're allowed in the Club.

Earlier in life Ben would have been embarrassed but he no longer cares. Every Club member watches as we're led to a window side table. After we're seated, he laughs.

"You've always love to make an entrance," he says tucking his cloth napkin into his collared shirt.

"I think it's a great tee shirt," I explain. "It matches my shorts and flip flops."

As he giggles, we can't help but notice that every single employee of the place, loves us! We're given the best service by multiple waitresses. They share laughter with us. As soon as we take a sip, our glasses are refilled while the collared people wait for more wine.

We talk as people stare, two old friends who have done a lot together, spend a while looking back. Ben repeats himself several times and I'm not used to it. I don't like thinking about when he's gone.

"What are you doing now?" he suddenly asks and I explain that we sell hope in desperate times.

Greying eyes suddenly burst into the crystal clear baby blues I've always known him to have. Half-an-hour rushes by as we have an intellectual conversation about hope. Lots of people are selling it. Everybody desperately needs it. Most of what's sold isn't meeting people's needs. He questions, challenges, debates and ... is inexplicably young and full of venom and vigor.

At 1:45 I hold up my hand and say "Betty told me to have you back before 1:30. You have a doctors appointment at 2. I think we're in trouble again."

"Screw her!" he yells ... obviously ready for more debate and the entire room is as silent as a church as I burst into laughter.

The next moment takes a thousand years.

Greyness returns to his eyes. He asks if he's paid the bill. His back hunches forward. He searches for his cane. He struggles to stand. He doesn't want to leave.

I drive him home and when we arrive Betty is obviously not pleased.

"You're late," she says with her hands on her hips.

"We were picking up girls," I explain.

Without missing a beat she counters, "I'm the only girl for him. Ben, get in the car."

He does as he's told but as I turn, he winks at me with blazing blue eyes.

And I cry all the way home.
_________________________________________

There's still time to sign up for "Embracing Peace in your life now" beginning in October 3. Do it for yourself at http://www.meellc.com/wordpress/onlineclass/