Dangerous

My friend LaNae always has a vignette here & there.

I love to be in her home- it's like exploring ten little stage sets. 

He strolls into my office with his chest pushed forward and the waistline of his pants inches above his belly button. His belt displays different types of fish and whales and since it is almost at my eye level, I admire it for a few moments. His joints are over 90 years old which is why we have had the pleasure of meeting. The first time I meet someone (and usually thereafter), I always ask them how they are doing that day. Without falter he always responds "I'm so good I'm almost dangerous." Now when I retrieve him from the waiting area, I just say: "It's time for danger" and he pops right up with a smile. (Usually the others in the room look at me like I am a weird but this is one of the most glorious hours in my week so I barely even notice.) 

I always ask for a joke and lately we have been recycling through jokes. I demand them anyway and I can almost watch his brain churning through 90 years worth of files looking for a new one. Once he remembers a joke (which is so sudden and exciting it is like his brain is a child running after fireflies which flicker moments of joke recollection and then not) he begins to laugh at the joke as if he has just heard it for the first time. I have to wait patiently until he is done being amused at the punchline before he shares it with me. They are simple jokes. I tried to tell one at a campfire a few weeks ago and I did it no justice. But coming from Danger, they are delightful. 

Once, during a resting break, he told me he would love to be twenty four again but didn't know how he would spend his time. I told him he might be doing exactly the same thing he is now: golfing, dining, and hanging out with girls. His caregiver smiled. He nodded slowly. "It would be different though. To be 24 again. I just can't even imagine it. It is so far away. I would hope to raise hell." When we are done and he is ready to leave he always becomes serious and leans into me. "I have to tell you something." I also become serious, nervous that bad news is about to be delivered. He drops his voice. "Are you behaving yourself because I certainly hope not." I consider that maybe he is right- you only live once.