Real Strange

Life is sometimes really strange. Yesterday afternoon I returned from my trip to Boston and as I entered the house the dogs jumped for my attention. Kathy, Jake and Sam were on the couch watching the football game and eating an ice cream. They all said hi, but they didn't jump up and clap, which was great.

Because, you see, I had just been through a real weird experience.

I headed to Boston to accept an award for a book I never imagined writing. I wanted to introduce the people to Jeff though so I was on a mission. I just never truly grasped all of it.

It was a big award, I'm told. 5% of books entered received recognition....so there were a lot of books in the competition. The event was held in the Parker House where a lot of history was made. JFK proposed at one table, Longfellow and Thoreau sat over there. Everything was elegant and they were passing around shit I'd never eat, but shoveled in anyway whenever one of the snooty waiters passed.

All good, so far, nothing on my shirt...which Kathy picked...which didn't show any nipples.

Yet I had a cold...and I hadn't warmed up much. I stayed in Boston with Lyndsy and Dave, two great people who had the Western New York roots. We lounged all day after seeing some sites and I enjoyed their company so much because we were just regular folk.

The guy who sat across from me was in a tux. He wrote poems. He was a big-time professor at a big-time college. He told me that he'd waited all his life to be recognized in such a manner. That was when the woman who organized the festival came by. She hugged me and said

"Welcome back! You're our first two-time winner!"

I had won in 2008 for Nobody's Home.

The guy in the tux almost choked on the Vietnamese spring roll.

Anyway, I sort of hung out. I stopped every single waiter with a tray and tried their food. The steak rolls were the best.

"Are you nervous about your speech?" the guy's wife asked me.

"Uh, nope."

And when I went up there I heard voices in my head. Voices of Jim, Jeff, John, Carrie, Corinne, and Mom.

Make it funny.

Walk tall or don't walk at all.

Clean yourself.

And then Dad...

Do more than what they expect.

And it was perfect too because the guy before me droned on without any regard for timing or laughter.

I thanked them for the award and then I said simply:

I lost my brother to a tragedy and it broke the hearts of a lot of people. Let me introduce him to you.

And I went off. I felt lousy (from a cold) but I was right on time. When I told them about Jeff saying "I can see your nipples, dude," the roar was unreal.

All those well-dressed people were getting it straight from the heart.

And I went on and on...the canned goods. The ahahahahahaha. The spirit of the man I loved so much, alive and vibrating the walls with laughter.

And then I was done.

And I looked up, and it hit me. The people were standing up in the back and clapping and smiling and I was walking back to my seat, fighting the tears.

Back home, 10 hours later...

"I took the hamburger out for dinner," my wife said as I tossed my bag on the counter.

"Perfect," I said.