I'd always meant to check it out but never had and here's my chance.
Arriving the stocky jovial man meets me, gives a tour, instructs me to get anything I want and we take heaping plates of fresh cooked vegetables with mason jars of sweet tea to an table under a tree.
"You probably have no idea why I invited you to lunch," he muses as though sharing a joke with himself.
"You'd be right," I answer popping fried okra in my mouth.
Nodding his head with mischievousness eyes, he looks away for a moment and goes through the motions of blowing a smoke ring from an imaginary cigarette ... the silence hangs.
We're the only ones eating outside on a hot Savannah day.
The roar of traffic on Liberty Street is intermittently timed with the Red Lights.
"Let me get you some more tea," he finally says, standing and grabbing my jar.
It's a terrible time in my life.
A thirty year career is blowing up around me ... I'm "suddenly single" ... living alone ... desperately trying to hold onto things that simply aren't there anymore ... uncertain of what to do next.
Placing the fresh jar of tea in front of me, he forcefully states, "I want to thank you."
I stare at him.
"You have no idea why," he laughs.
Shaking my head, his face radiates as he's obviously enjoying the moment, as though it's been rehearsed a thousand times in his head.
"For I was stranger and you took me in," he grins ... quoting Jesus.
"I was homeless and stayed at the place you ran ... we met a couple of times but you don't remember ... no reason you should ... I was in pretty bad shape ... but here I am now and ... I need to say thanks."
And Dicky gives me a lightness at that moment I hadn't felt in years.
We keep up after that.
I left the work.
He did too making his way to Tybee Island, first living in an apartment where he hosted "Fried Egg Sandwich" night to meet his new neighbors.
Sarah and I are there.
Then he found the boat so we rang him up asking if we can bring lunch.
Subs from Tybee Market carried us through a lovely afternoon on his boat though ... his damn cat Noir isn't everything Dicky made him out to be ... and Sarah's starting a Book Club and Dicky wants to attend and bring his friend Jan Elders.
Dicky never read a single book though he brought the most fantastic food which earned him a pass.
The Book Club fell apart and we saw each other only by happenstance.
He starts Dicky Trotter Promotions posting everything that's anything happening on the island.
"It's a good day to do good things becomes his mantra."
The last time we talk is October when I asked if he'll promote a Bar Church service we're having on the Beach to thank God for sparing Tybee Island from another Hurricane.
"Of course," he says ... and does.
You know how you hate it when people you really like die?
Yeah ...
I understand it's illegal to permanently live on a boat in the state of Georgia but Dicky Trotter somehow pulled it off which, of course, make us all love him more.
So ... hey Buddy ... it's my turn to say, "Thanks" ... for giving me some light in a very dark time ... for delighting my wife with the culinary creations you brought ... and for living on that boat right up until you died.
Your story goes on.
Just like you do somehow.
I don't know how.
Like living on that boat all those years.
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