Thanks Dicky

I have no idea who Dicky Trotter is but he's invited me to lunch on his dime at the Liberty Street Fresh Market with an outside restaurant.

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.

The Long Way Home

Forty years ago sometimes seems like last night.

It had been an awful day.

I spent the morning and early afternoon in back-to-back-to-back classes beginning at 8 am and ending at 2 on a glorious sunny afternoon I barely saw because I was in the Library ... remember those? ... until 4 when I arrive at my job.

Storming through the heavy metal rear door, I leave the grittiness of a shopping mall back lot full of dumpsters to enter a state-of-the-art kitchen.

On my left Mitch Wesley's already washing large pots and dishes from the prep Audi, the large former women's Olympic Gymnastics coach for Germany had dirtied, sat to my right smoking a cigar, drinking a Heineken under a wild mess of snow white hair.

Audi looks like a clean shaven Santa Claus.

I mutter greetings, enter the bath room and change into a white shirt, black pants, red socks and black shoes and a red vest.

Exiting, I'm greeted by Audi's wife, the Wicked Bitch of the West.

She'd surpassed Witch status decades earlier.

"Hallo Michael," she evilly smiles taking the long black string and magically transforming it into a Bow-tie around my neck.

"Ve shalt be busy tonight so you must be at your best." she grins patting my chest with both hands each finger adorned with diamonds before returning to the restaurant.

Turning I look at Audi and grimace.

Grinning, he nods his head so I grab a crystal stein, stumble to the tap on the refrigerator wall, fill it with Heineken, immediately drink half, refill it and stand between Audi and Mitch.

"How is she?" I ask.

Audi puffs on his cigar and shrugs his shoulder so I look at Mitch.

"It's bad," he explains from behind a mountain of soap suds.

"Vat das von do?" Audi sighs draining his beer, filling it again from the same tap, clicking his stein to mine and we both drink.

A soaking wet Mitch exits from behind the soap suds faces us for a moment, makes a face and quickly fixes a plate of Bratwurst, dark bread and real butter.

I throw a hand full of spatzle into a frying pan with mushrooms, chopped onion, diced ham and bell pepper ... after it cooks I cover with Mozzarella and bake before garnishing with hot paprika.

Mitch gets a Pepsi from the counter and we eat quickly as the first customers arrive.

Within minutes, he's submerged in soap suds as Audi frantically works the stove and ovens as I take orders rushing back and forth from the 8 tables in the restaurant and the kitchen.

The only one moving slowly is Marlene ... the Wicked Bitch of the West ... Audi's wife and owner of Keinle's German Delicatessen serving fine European food, excellent Beers and the richest wines.

She greets and seats and takes their money when all's said and done.

Forty satisfied customers later, she happily counts cash and credit card receipts while Audi lights another cigar and sits as I haul dirty dishes to Mitch before gathering filthy linens and resetting the tables for the next night.

At some point, Audi hands me another beer.

Taking Seminary far more serious than me, Mitch doesn't drink leaving Audi's uncertain how much to trust him.

On a table beside Mitch is a large container where he's been instructed to empty the fine meat leftovers for Marlene's dogs ... things he and I aren't allowed to eat ... as employees we only get the cheaper cuts.

"How ya doing?" I ask Mitch who's drenched in sweat and soap suds.

"It's a night," he sighs.

I spit a big loogie into the container of fine meats for the dogs.

Mitch laughs.

Audi does too.

Marlene enters with a bag full of money, grabs the container, smiles curtly and leaves us to finish up.

"I gotta go," Mitch says grabbing a coat. "Paper due tomorrow," he explains rushing out after he watches the Wicked Bitch of the West drive away.

"Vant a-not-ter von, Micheal?" Audi asks, not wanting to rush home to his wife.

"Nah," I sigh. "It's a long way home."

Home is a crappy apartment twenty minutes away where my son and his mother are already asleep.

Audi embraces me as I turn to leave.

I love the man.

He loves me.

Our common bond is hatred of his wife.

It's cold outside so I stick in Jimmy Buffett music and take Interstate 265 to bypass the North end of Louisville to get to the South side where my son sleeps in the crappy apartment.

Then I don't know what happens ... it's one of those moments when I seem to be at the Exit in no time ... how did I get here so fast? ... it was one of those trances we sometimes fall into where we drive but are somehow not completely there at all ... almost like an out-of-body experience except I'm obviously still there driving.

I don't want it to end so ... I keep going.

Buffett's normally soothing songs aren't doing it so I hit eject and ... Super Tramp erupts from the speaking agreeing with me to ... "Take the Long Way Home."

I don't know remember how many times I drive around Louisville on Interstate 265 that night ... but it was several ... the bright lights of the city on one side ... the dark star lit expanse of Kentucky bluegrass on the other ... I just went round and round ... heading nowhere.

"Then Jesus was led by the Spirit to the wilderness to be tempted ... after fasting for 40  days and 40 nights he was hungry ..." (Matthew 4:1-2).

Here's the dangers of going to Seminary.

You learn things it could be better off not knowing.

God led Jesus to be tempted ... that just doesn't sound right does it? ... but sure enough it's God kicking it off the temptations.

Forty (40) days and 40 nights just means a long time ... it doesn't mean anything else ... it could have been half-an-hour before Jesus got hungry ... it doesn't matter ... he just got hungry.

The Devil shows up ... "Satan" in Hebrew which means "the Adversary" ... not a horrible monster wheeling in death and punishment but ... someone taking the opposing view ... and advises Jesus on how to eat ... nothing more sinister than that ... those Jesus takes issue with it.

By far the most interesting thing, though, is ... it's the "wilderness" Jesus is led into ... follow me here ... in Hebrew there's only about 200 words ... none of them have vowels ... a,e,i,o,u and sometimes y were added by Scribes later ... and depending on where they put the vowels give us the particular word ... the same Hebrew word can mean lots of different things.

The same Hebrew letters that spell "wilderness" also spell the word "word" ... or "speaking" ... or "thing."

If you study it long enough you come to conclude that "wilderness" means "the speaking place."

So God leads Jesus to the speaking place ... away from everything ... so they can talk.

Satan shows up with God and Jesus gets lots of advise ... mostly to take care of himself first ... though Jesus doesn't seem interested in anything other than actually conversing with God.

The Satan disappears.

God speaks to Jesus.

Jesus talks to God.

They reach an understanding.

That night in Louisville on Interstate 265 I was driving through the Wilderness ... where you can find yourself most anytime ... most anywhere ... Super Tramp's blaring on the speakers ... God's definitely got things to say ... and I'm in the right place to listen.

"It's all getting ready to change," God's saying.

"I'm ready," I answer. "I'm ready for different."

And just a little while later, everything changes.

The funny thing is I knew it was going to because ... I don't know ... I just did ... I think it was God ... it could have been Super Tramp ... but I don't think it was ... it was God and me having a moment.

I'm not where I was supposed to be ... doing what I'm supposed to be doing ... and that's often the way it is ... you have to break out of the ordinary to hear God ... not be where you're expected ... taking the long way home ... surprisingly putting yourself in a position to listen.

The ancient Israelites wandered around the wilderness for 40 years before they finally made it to the Promised Land.

That's a Hell of a long time ... but ... in the end they make it ... and I think the reason it took so long is because it's hard enough for one person to get to the point where they can have a moment with God ... add a bunch of others and it's bound to be more difficult.

Jesus' time in the wilderness was "only" 40 days and nights as opposed to 40 years ... a mere drop in the bucket of time ... but he seemed ready for the moment, even in spite of Satan's distractions ... whereas the Israelites took the time to explore each and every one they encountered.

Within days of taking the long way home, a tiny, broken down Church in the inner city of Louisville lost their collective minds and bullied me into becoming their minister ... seriously I was bullied by 5 little old ladies, once with a butcher knife ... and in a moment of quiet after much argument ... I said, "Yes" ... everything about my life changed.

Mitch was the first person I called for help and he brought his guitar and we made music for the sad souls who came.

I left the restaurant a short time later and, after one last beer with Audi, I never returned.

We moved from the crappy apartment for a really nice one in the city's worst neighborhood.

The tiny little Church took off ... taking me with it.

"And it was good,"  as God says when in the midst of creating something new.

So next time you find yourself brooding over a beer with a three mile stare ... or seemingly lost in thought when there's not a one in your head ... that crazy half asleep/half awake state when dreams are still real and reality is foggy and misty ... or you suddenly find yourself at the Exit way before you could have imagined and you decide to take the long way home ...

It means you're ready to listen and perhaps hear something far bigger than yourself.

You're in the wilderness.

And if you make yourself ready, God's ready to speak some words just for you.




Micheal Elliott
March 2018