An Old Mistress of Mine

I first met her way back in 1974. We were both much younger and had a bit of a wild streak in us. Little did I know then that our lives would be intertwined for over twenty years. My wife and children knew about her from the very first but rarely interacted with her. This was good because I loved her dearly and would have been heartbroken if I had been made to give her up. A lot of my friends were jealous of our union. My business partner gazed at her and simply said, "She is a real sex machine". She and I both had a penchant for traveling, and we went many places together with great pleasure. It was a rare occasion when we were apart for more than a few hours. Her upkeep was not cheap, but the joy she gave me was well worth more than mere money. Sometimes, I felt as if I had waited my whole life for her to come to me. As she aged, she became like a fine wine; more precious than ever. She watched my children grow up, and even a second wife was tolerated. Her health remained good until the very end. When I had to give up up, she was still a daily delight in my life. I know that she has found another liaison, but I have not seen her in many years. I do keep her picture with me and often look at it with a certain longing in my heart. She has become more and more valuable as the years have passed.

A 911 Porsche Targa. In 1974, she cost 13,500.00 brand new, and in 1994, she fetched 9,800.00 on departure.

Dummie

Dummie was all that I ever heard him called. As a preschooler, I sometimes would see a large black man in our neighborhood. I say large because everyone was large to me, but I used my father as the standard. If someone was taller than my dad, he was large. Anyway, my mother told me that the man was called Dummie because he could not hear and therefore could not speak. That, in itself, was a new revelation to me.

I suspect that Dummie did yard work for some people, but I never saw him except when he was walking in the street by our house. He always had a big grin on his face and would give a wave. Shortly after I began school, Dummie seemed not to be around anymore. One can hope that maybe he went to The Tennessee School for the Deaf, but I doubt it. In this day and time, his life would have been very different.