Opiates are GOOD for you

I was in a bookstore when I noticed a black guy wearing neon green mesh running shoes. The rest of him sported a neon yellow outfit running outfit. We got in a conversation. What I liked was that he totally paid no attention to the fact that I was using a wheelchair. He was a high school coach from an outlying area. I said that even though I went to the same high school as President Obama at the same time he did, I did not remember him. He would have been the only black guy. I also grew up in the area he lived in and my father worked at the university his mother worked at, since 1949. In those days, people in town knew each other, especially if they were white or black--both minorities there. I did read Obama's book about his father and the details of growing up in the area were accurate. My birth certificate also looks just like his. I'm not a birther and I have no axe to grind, I was just making observations. My conversation partner however, had theories. Among other things, he said that he thought President Obama was 6'6" like it was something that had been hidden. I didn't think that sounded sane, but I bet him a Starbucks that he was wrong. We went around the store to try and find some proof one way or the other. A guy who worked at the bookstore said he had seen Obama in person and he was about six feet. Two more people in the elevator concurred. The books on Obama didn't list his statistics like a baseball card, but they did have multiple photos of him in groups of people. He looked to be about six feet. And there's every public appearance he ever made. I urged my new friend to admit defeat, but it wasn't enough for him. I don't know what would have been. I didn't get my Starbucks. A school teacher stiffed me on a bet because in his mind a 6'6" Obama secretly roams the earth. He said he would be there on Monday and maybe I collect the bet then, if there was more information.

I tried to turn a conspiracy-minded companion into a free cup of coffee but I ended up with nothing.

I wish I could have an experience where I end up sharing a reasonable conversation and a cup of coffee with a new friend instead of getting into a weird area. I wish life was more like a John Cusack movie.

The phone rang about midday today and I heard a familiar cigarette-cured voice wishing me a happy Father's Day. It was my old friend "Maggie." We had a falling out with a few years ago. I had to take a break from her because she was so deep into her dysfunction. We did get into some rocky areas but we basically had a nice conversation. She is finally housed for two years in a row and that helps. I'm jealous actually because I deal with a less than optimal shelter situation. We both agree that we hate the police. !#$%heads! She's had some adventures like the times she escaped from a Mexican jail, dated Janis Joplin's drug dealer (yes those are related) and drove a Magic Limo around Maui picking up startled hitchhikers. I was with her when the last thing happened. I missed her but she's a handful. I don't like getting a lecture on how THC kills cancer and opiates are GOOD FOR YOU according to SCIENCE. Other than than I did enjoy connecting with an old friend.