One block up the avenue and one block over is a street corner and a street lamp.
Twenty years ago, the fellas used to hang out there. Under that lamp were young men
devoid of wealth, proud by nature, angry with society and in possession of an indomitable
spirit. Under that lamp, a literal beacon in the dark, was a daily meeting of young minds, a
meeting of souls and a launching pad for great achievements.
One block over and one block down the avenue is a similar street lamp that shines through
the darkened windows of Clee Simmon's barbershop. The shop however is occupied.
Clee and two childhood buddies Greg Gills and Don Vasco Wilson carry on a discussion
in the solitude of near darkness.
During this custom of customs, the conversation drifts from sports, weather, politics, social
science, music, and religion. It varies from Saturday to Saturday, but the discussion never
ends without the mention of women. They may speak of their wives or of girlfriends past.
They may comment on the generous protruding rump of the latest Hollywood feme fatale or
nostalgically reprise a moment of physical conquest. They will mention women.
It was/is always about women. Every dollar earned, every book studied, the continued
drive for success was about attracting women, attracting smarter women and attracting a
better class of women. Even now, the contentment within their marriages ride the ebb and
flow of financial tides. The thrill of marital embrace often defers to night classes and the
pursuit of advanced degrees.
They will mention women but the phone rings. Clee answers and then stares blankly at Greg
and Don Vasco...