Sure, all the really cool people in my stories are named Bob. That’s because of Bob. Bob, born on 06-06-60. Check it out. Numerillogically it’s 000-666. A triple-ought shotgun blast from Hell. The born to be a bad influence best friend you wish you had, but I actually did.
Today’s his birthday, 06-06-2011. Numerillogically, that’s 7. Perfect. Today he’s helping to sail David Crosby’s beloved boat, “Mayan” back to Santa Barbara. Bob told me a funny story about his first trip aboard Mayan, which will tell you a bit about Bob.
Bob had been invited to help sail Mayan by the Santa Barbara Boatwright who ran Crosby’s Naval Crew.
(Hold on, there’s a guy trying to sell my neighbor on painting his address on the curb. He’s got a backpack full of stencils and reflective spray paint. Wait a minute, he just told Crazy Terry, “I’ve seen a lot of Brain-Dead People.” Now Terry’s giving him his Global Warming rap, and the guy, rather than running, replies, “What most people call a conspiracy, I call…” and I missed the last part.
Now he says, “Yeah, you got the right rhythm to the wrong song, or like that…” Now he’s running, trying to get away, there he goes! Good Luck!)
Bob was left standing on the dock with the last line cast off, and made an instant and unshakeable vow.
“No Way! I am Not Missing This Boat!” He jumped for Mayan’s rail. He barely made it, the Boatwright hauling him aboard, Crosby eyeing him with pride. He’d passed the first test, and, as Bob showed his character and skill, he earned himself another chance to crew on the Mayan for free.
Which comes today, apparently. His Birthday, Happy Fifty-one! Here’s where we’ve passed what we’ve deserved and know better. Here’s where the gravy becomes the main meal, where what’s left over is best left over and what’s new is best left well behind.
Here is where we who’ve lived this long understand the looks we get from those who have lived longer. Here is where we count our blessings, take them from the bank, and bet them on our one true love.
Happy Birthday, Bob!