In response to a local blog....In remembrance of Dennis Rogers

Oh, how the years wound their way through the development of young minds and bodies, once weaving an afternoon get-together with Cactus Jim and Kinston kindergarten friend, Jimmy Rochelle, and me—sitting on a bale of hay in a Greenville TV studio, sipping on bottles of Sun Crest orange soda, my proud mom smiling at her two little boys in cowboy hats in a make-believe western horse barn with big Jim in his polished black western boots.

Goodness, what great memories you evoke.  What would happen to that little boy and his friend who daily made their way along Holman and Highland packing holstered Hopalong Cassidy six-shooters and carrying Red Ryder air rifles—shooting at marauding Injuns and bad guys cruising by in those slow moving DeSotos and station wagons with wood on the sides

From innocence to finally figuring it out, the way often a bit  bumpy and perilous....

A near-death encounter in snowy Lebanon on a job-seeking trip to Beirut-- American U., ending in a first-time bar-tending gig for me at a famous Raleigh nightclub-- the Long Branch Saloon.  And with that job came a regular customer, Dennis Rogers (a devout country-western music fan). He liked to lean up against my bar with a can of Budweiser listening to the Lone Star Band on the country side where I hustled drinks. He enjoyed a few cans of Bud and was a pleasure to have around.  Kinda gave me a feeling of importance.

But before Dennis and the Long Branch.....A hazardous roadtrip (with my sister and brother-in-law) to Bsharri in the dead of winter to see the Giant Cedars of Lebanon (Cedars of God).

An armed militiaman guarding a mountain pass on a snowy night....

I remember a click of the rifle, its cold iron barrel pushed up against my left temple as I was on my knees, with hands raised high, in six inchess of freshly fallen snow.  We were detained that night at an alpine outpost by an element of the Lebanese  Phalange (Christian) for about an hour before they finally warmed to us and let us go--amid smiles and friendly banter and pats on the back.

The young lieutenant in charge of the garrison, a recent graduate of UCLA, had his men bring us coffee and Marlboro cigarettes and tangerines and engaged us in friendly conversation about America, especially about college basketball. Most particularly he was interested in the great David Thompson-led N.C. State Wolfpack team which knocked off his great Bill Walton-led UCLA Bruins in 1974-- on the way to State's winning the NCAA National Championship. Wolfpack basketball became our ticket to freedom.  :-)

The coffee was scalding hot and spilled out of that tiny Arabic cup, burning my shaking hand, but I didn't let on.....We finally bid goodbye to our new friends and continued on our way back to AUB.

  My first Hemingwayan adventure......

A Farewell to Arms

The Country side (the small side) of the Long Branch

I hear now that the Long Branch is no more. 

My first night bartending there was on a New Years’ Eve—needing a job I fibbed to the interviewer when asked if I had ever bartended. Thank goodness they served all drinks in plastic cups.  I did not know much in the bartending vernacular, and the number of drinks that I knew how to make reminded me of Doonesbury’s Uncle Duke, the bartender—he only made gin and tonics.  Cowgirls walking away with puzzled looks as they sipped their whiskey sours eventually lost themselves against the steadying embrace of a beefy cowboy on the dance floor.  I lasted a few years there.

New Years' Eve at the Long Branch on the big side.....My first night  bartending :-)

Then along came entrepreneurship and an eventual excursion to Thailand where I am today—hunkered down daily along Pattaya Beach in a pleasant atmosphere—watching beach bunny volleyball, skirting that virus as Thailand is doing very well. 

Read you every week and enjoy reading the comments, especially from the regulars (friends that they’ve come to be). 

You really know how to remind us that we are all somehow connected—it would seem.

A lot of stress out there, but we’ve seen worse—I remember those awful hurricanes and tornadoes. A little street scuffle and murder and mayhem, and we will see our way through it—that I am sure.  November will be cataclysmic so hold on. 

Wonderful Dennis and Kay may make way for more Dennis’ and Kays.  I hope so—we cannot afford to lose their kind.

A bit rambling, I know, as I type away in my place in the wee hours along Pattaya Tai Road. And my soi (street) cat Lily is anxiously awaiting dinner.  Later—Keep em coming.

Thailand

In memory of Dennis