When we go on vacation one of the things I like to do is meet new people. This trip to the ocean is no exception.Now I have met a few folks so far but the first guy kind of stands out.
His name is Tim. He is from New York. Tim and his wife own the townhouse attached to the one we are renting. He is retired and his idea of a perfect morning was to have his coffee beachside. He told me right away that he lives here six months out of the year and the fewer the tourist around him the better. So I was surprised when he asked me to grab a seat and join him for his morning ritual.
Now Tim is loud, complete with the stereotypical New York accent. He is opinionated. He is passionate. He loves his family and this country complete with all of its "idiots and morons". For a good thirty minutes or so we were agreeing, disagreeing, correcting each other and laughing. Although he also did try to sell me the townhouse we were staying in because I "seem like a nice enough guy". And by the way it was for sale, and he figured he could get me a good price on it but it needed some work.
As I mentioned we had been going back and forth for a good thirty minutes when he pulled a left turn with the conversation and wanted to know what I was selling.
"What?" was about all I could respond.
"Sorry" he responded "but most people who end up stopping by to chat on the beach at this time of the morning are either selling something or need money, and I noticed your shirt."
I was wearing my CDH1 mutation positive t-shirt. The money we paid for our shirts went to support further research on the mutation and look for possible cures. It is a shirt to remind me where I have been and what I have over come not some fund raiser.
He quickly added, " Don't get me wrong I am not mad, I have enjoyed our talk, but want you to know that it's ok to give me you pitch".
I laughed and assured him I wasn't selling anything and gave him the readers digest condensed version of my story. He was a little skeptical at first because I was wearing my eye patch and we all know that folks can't live without a stomach. Though he did have a buddy who knew somebody who had part of his removed he thinks.
So we chatted a bit longer and I decided to head back to the townhouse. I thanked him for letting me join him and maybe we chat again one morning before we leave and I left.
Later in the day we crossed paths again on the beach and I greeted him by name. His wife wife wanted to know how he knew me so he told here. "They're renting the unit next to ours. I told you. The guy without a stomach.
Even here I am the guy without a stomach!
I am figuring he will be telling my story when he gets back to the Big Apple.
All of his life, he's mastered choice
Deep in his heart, he's just, he's just a boy
Living his life one day at a time
And showing himself a really good time
Laughing about the way they want him to be
(The Best That You Can Do, Arthur's Theme Ronan Keating)
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