Week #7

It was a slow week as far meeting folk, and sort of a sad weekend- my last in Arkansas for a while.  I won't be driving to NY until the 10th of March, but the next two weekends will be spent back in Texas visiting family and friends. 

Today we went down to the H&R block and filed for our tax return.  That's where we met Gladys.  She was a considerably well-rounded lady, with a kind smile, and almost a sickeningly sweet demeanor.  If she hadn't been so consistently nice, patient, and genuinely interested, it would have come across as quite staged- but by the time we were done, I was convinced that she is genuinely wonderful.  We need more people like that.

Tonight a friend of mine arranged a "going away" party for us.  It was really nice of him, and we had friends show up from different circles who'd never even met!  We all gathered at a restaurant for Mexican food, and then migrated over to a small pub called Lucky's that I'd never been to before.  It was a pretty clean little place, small, with one pool table.  A live band was playing- and they were talented.  The volume, however, seemed more suited for a place about 8 times the size of that room.

There was a guy in his mid-fifties, wearing a Razorback jacket, playing pool.  He had graying hair, scruffy cheeks, a baggy 2nd chin, and apparently too much to drink.  The only reason I know his name is because it was etched into his western-style leather belt.  I can't count him as an official acquaintance since I never introduced myself- but didn't really care to.  He was behaving in a way that hopefully would embarrass his children, if he has any-  using his pool cue as an anatomical prop for immature antics. 

The older I get, the more clear it becomes that some people never mature.  I think I must have grown up assuming that everyone eventually becomes as mild-mannered, dignified and self controlled as my parents- I just assumed it was a natural process.  Boy, was I wrong.