Coronado & Andy

As is customary in late December the lawn that lies between

our coffee/cookie table, and the Pacific, has been converted to an

ice-skating rink. Per our agreement with the God that controls such

matters, the morning is as ordered: warm enough for shirts and

shorts, under a cloudless turquoise sky, with a touch of ocean

breeze.

Sitting on the ocean side patio of the Coronado Del, as we have

done three or four times a week for the past two years,

we continue a conversation that began with our initial

constitutional along Ocean Avenue. That was perhaps 200 walks

ago. I suppose all dialogues have nuances that set them apart.

Andy and I are in the enviable position to pass judgment on the

“foreigners”;  whether from Arizona or Abu Dhabi, now staying at

this magisterial hotel.

This morning, between comments covering small children, well

invested young women, and the ocean’s temperament,

we, as usual, cursed new and outrageous claims on the part of

political conservatives, and I thought “how lucky both Andy and I

are to have found each other”. We have similar political, religious

and social views. Both of us retired runners who enjoy walking. I

think we leave our medals in a distant desk drawer and do not

bring bullshit to the table. Most important, we find the same things

funny.  

On Friday mornings Andy will bring his copy of my latest poems,

duly annotated. Maybe it took knowing me a while to move from

“I don’t know what you’re  trying to say”  to “what the hell are you

trying to say,” but we lost no passengers on the trip. We review his

comments on my poetry, pausing only to remind ourselves  that we

struck a brilliant deal with the aforementioned God.

Those three or four mornings each week are not without an

occasional discovery, that proves we are not finished with this life.

Toward the end of the ice skating season at the Del we tried an

experiment. Instead of each of us getting our own chocolate-chip

cookie we decided to split one.  After almost two years of asking

Pattie, or Mary, or Emma for our “regular” they were  mildly

shocked by the reduction from two to one chocolate chip cookie.

Fortunately, Andy, being a retired physician, was able to manage a

very inferior plastic knife, never intended for use in such exquisite

surgery, and produce more or less evenly divided halves, thus

saving $2.27 (including tax) three or four times a week.