A Highway Refreshment and Others –Dave LaRoche
Red stopped for a burger at Jane’s Diner -- a wide place in the road somewhere along his ambling way.
“What’ll it be?” A perky voice in a laundry-starched uniform that left little to imagination but must’ve been uncomfortable, replied.
“Burger?” He asked
“Hot, spicy, and fresh.” She grinned.
“I’ll have that,” he said.
“Nothing more?” she asked, her voice melodic.
“A beer might be good.”
She leaned in to him across the counter, her fragrance begging attention, her womanliness pouring out, “We have Falstaff and Bud … and Jane,” she said.
“When do you get off?” he said.
With nervously-muttered permanency, I placed my high-school ring on the hand of my steady. We broke up a month later and with her, a goodbye to the ring.
A ruby encrusted fraternity pin, which cost me a few dollars, saw a similar fate.
When I was married, those necessary sparklers hiked their way up a finger and once more the promise was broken, the rings disappearing.
At a later time in life, once again I paid the jeweler.
"It’s a friendship ring," I said with a bouquet of daisies, "only to commemorate our spiritual arrangement.”
She didn't care much for the speech but years later we’ve been solid and I see the ring often.
The Value of a Tan
When young and chasing, I could never quite understand the value of a tan though I sought one every early summer. I lay horizontal, first on my back and then on my belly, slathered in oil and iodine until the day's rays carved their place in the cells of my skin. I have now figured it out, years later, as my dermatologist collects his fee. It was capitalism at play and I was being a good citizen.
I hate getting old – prostate swelling, bladder behaving like an old tire. I'm in the bathroom and here I wait. Things are happening in other rooms and I'm missing out.
Causes David LaRoche Supports