Funny how things happen, isn't it....

     Ray, George and I celebrating Geo's birthday a few years ago on the porch "Up in the Canyon"

It's October 3rd, my pal George's birthday. He's old like me. I've known George since the early 70's and we've celebrated a bunch of birthdays together, maybe too many. Not really, we're both glad we're still alive. This year's birthday is being celebrated in Tampa, Geo's baby daughter, college girl is throwing a party for him. I hope he can keep up with Cami and her friends. I know he'll do his best. Know Geo like I do, he'll fade.

In 1996, George and I were working together in the Fairbanks Corporate office in West Palm Beach. When our Boston stations were sold that spring, I was transferred to West Palm. I hated to leave Boston, but I needed to eat, so off I went. In short order, I was out of my relationship in Boston. 

In January of '97 I was at a charity event at a classy bar on Clematis Street in downtown West Palm. I let myself be picked up by a dazzling, British woman. In a few weeks we were a "thing". She swept me off my feet so to speak. In March, I took her to the Palm Beach Film Festival, Formal dress for the banquet, Very nice evening at the Breaker's Hotel, we had a great time. I pulled in her driveway at 1 in the morning, Sheila put her hand on my arm and said, "Love we have to take some time off." I asked "Why?" Sheila continued in her posh, Brit accent, "My husband is coming home for a few weeks and I can't let things get messy. We have an understanding between us, so you can see how this could create a problem don't you Robert? We can resume in when he leaves."

I was stunned, I was speechless, I didn't know what to say, I simply said, "Get the fuck out of my car!" 

I drove home and drank a half a fifth of Basil Hayden and went to bed. On Sunday morning my head was pounding. I took the dog for a walk, The dog and I drove to the Palm Beach News Stand and bought the papers. I swam in my little pool, by 10 that night by hangover was gone. I decided I was finished with women. I also decided I was pretty much done with everything except work. I stopped going out, I stayed home all the time. I went to work and went home for 7 months. George and our buddy Eric would come over on Saturday night, I'd cook, we'd get drunk, smoke cigars and watch "Cops" on TV.  I just stayed home in my little house on Rutland Blvd.

 

For months, I read a shitload of books, made excellent meals and played with Straka the Dog. I had enough money to finally pay off my divorce attorney, my back taxes and keep up with spousal support all at the same time. No sweat when all you do is shuttle from the office to home day after day. I even saved a buck or two.

7 went by, I finally agreed to go out for dinner on George's birthday. Eric, George and I met at an Italian place on Clematis, the food was good, so was the wine. We drove over to Palm Beach, hit a few spots. Eric didn't have a jacket on, at Au Bar, they made him slip into one of their "emergency" jackets. Eric, the spitting image of John Candy, was a 50 long and they tucked his fat ass into a 42 short and portly. It was a greasy, brown, nubby wool number. It looked outstanding with his Hawaiian shirt. Eric didn't care he reveled in it. A snotty Pam Beach type, said "Nice jacket." Eric, a Harvard drop out, said, in his deep baritone voice, using his best upper class Boston accent with a wide but insincere smile on his face, "Why don't you go fuck yourself,"

                                                       Eric Chaney, RIP. One of the best.

The three of us went to another club and as usual George faded from the scene around 10:30. Eric and I felt the urgent need to smoke a cigar. The Chesterfield Hotel's Leopard Lounge was just down the road, off we went. Eric in his huge, black, early 80's Fleetwood sedan. (he bought it from a funeral home) Eric loved his old Caddys and me in my 5 Series. 

The Leopard Lounge was empty, just a piano player, a tired looking woman server, a bartender and a guy with two women sitting at the bar. Eric and I sat down, we ordered from the bartender, lit our cigars, Eric asked me, "What do you think?" I said, "I think I just saw the best looking woman I've seen since I moved to Florida."

It was Jan. She had been to a birthday dinner for her friend Susie, they ended up at the Leopard Lounge too. Jan, Susie and the guy, neither of us can remember his name, joined Eric and me, we started to chat. The stars and the moon aligned, I gave Jan a ride home. We made a date, I got a peck on the check and the rest is history.

A few weeks later George starting calling her Cakes and that's how that got started. 

We were talking about Geo's birthday last night. I said "1997." Jan said "21 years", We both rolled our eyes.We always remember George's birthday!