Thursday, December 31, 2015


Dwight Brooks.
Reader Dear, it was the final chance meeting of a stranger-turned-friend in the year of 2015.

All I can tell you is that we were both waiting for the Giant grocery store to steam our shrimp (he for a party in Delaware at his sister's house; me for the traditional party with the friends of The Yard Man and me.)

Well, honestly, I could tell you far more!  We had fifteen minutes to visit, we two kindred spirits.  Though I could give you all kinds of details of his life story,  I'm just going to say he's got 23 grandchildren.   "But you don't look more than forty!" I protested. (Let me tell you, Dear Reader, he's far older! "It's your black skin!" I told him. "Unfair advantage! Hides the wrinkles!")

We hugged and said goodbye with our wrapped packages of shrimp- with-"medium"-Old Bay-seasoning-treatment.  I'll likely never see him again in my life, in spite of our pact to meet again on New Year's Eve 2016 at the seafood counter. The fifteen minute friendship put a sparkle in my final day of 2015.  Happy New Year 2016 to you, Dwight Brooks!

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