I’m sitting in my car at Lake Wylie killing time. And no, killing time is not killing me. I love to kill time…alone. Just me and my thoughts undisturbed for a while. It’s funny how this yearning has increased with the size of my family. Speaking of family, Keely is at her youth group and that’s why I am killing time. It’s a nice evening, a contrast to the humid day. I hear geese calling, traffic moving across Buster Boyd Bridge, live music coming from the back deck of T-Bones(which is surprisingly busy for a Wednesday night.) I thought we were in a recession. A few men are laughing and chatting as they fish along the bank. I get the feeling that catching fish is a minor concern; just an excuse to get with the boys. A father holds the hand of his young daughter.
I lose myself hypnotically to the dancing, shimmering sun across the lake water. The girl singing at the T-Bones has a nice voice, folksy, I guess, although I don’t know the song she is singing. Probably something by Justin Bieber(he really needs a new hair style). But I wonder, what’s her story? How did she end up playing at T-Bones? Is she old or young? I can’t see from here. What are her dreams or aspirations? Does she still have any and T-Bones is a launching pad or is she just coasting now in the wake of heartbreaks and disappointments? Are dreams meant to torture us? How many singers make it? How many writers make it? Out of all the people in the world who bust it to make it, only a very small few do. How do the rest of us find peace, find rest for our souls?
People are cruising up in their pontoon boats, john boats and speed boats and docking at T-Bones. A day on the lake topped off with a good meal, live music and a drink. Sounds a little bit wonderful to me. This entire waterfront scene has always captivated me, stirred a deep yearning within my soul. The water, the boats, live music, the calling of geese or seagulls, people aimlessly and lazily walking along the shore as if nothing else mattered. As if the mortgage wasn’t late, as if the credit cards had a zero balance, as if the kids didn’t need braces.
The lady singer is now butchering Tom Petty’s, “Free Falling”. It’s a crime. God’s cruel joke on me was that I was born without the slightest trace of musical ability, so I’ve been told. An angry father is yelling at his son. About what? Who knows. A lot of people are angry these days. A man is playing with his pit bull puppy. I know, I know, they are the sweetest, friendliest and cuddliest creatures since Winnie The Pooh. I just wonder why the TV news never reports on a Yellow Lab biting off the face of Little Johnny?
Gotta go pick up Keely.