It was a real pleasure to see him however and we had a chill weekend in the city, a weekend spent with drinks and a lot of conversation. He has been down south a few times for business and various trips, somewhere in the course of the conversation I made the statement that at one point in a man's life he should live in the south for some time, at least a year or two.
The last time I resided in the south I was pretty alone for a while. I had the mates from the squadron but at the time most were married and could never be counted on to head out every night. By chance I met a civilian, born in the south, mother from Kentucky, grew up in Savannah, college in Virginia and law school in Birmingham...he touched all the bases. On a nightly basis he could be counted on to head out and like clockwork around eight every night I'd receive a text or a phone call and we'd be on our way. At times we'd start at the country club situated on the St. John's River with low handing trees covered with moss and old time black staff who'd place "Mr." before your given name in historically southern class.
There were a lot of friends with Mossy Oak hats, khaki pants, women with pearls, everyone smoked, shot birds, obsessed with ACC and SEC football...at times it was pretty annoying to be honest but then at other times it was fantastic and just felt "right". This was a group of people who simply lived the way they have been for years and years without second guessing their plight or position in life. There'd be fall afternoons eating oysters off of the grill drinking cold beers in Barbour jackets with the game on in the background, oppressive summer heat and full white linen pants and shirts. I'd make trips up to Charleston and eat shrimp grits, drink gin and tonics at the bar out of one shot bottles (as was the law at the time) and watch cadets from The Citadel walk through the square with their dates under the Stars and Bars, head out to Kiawah, Sea Isle and Amelia and watch the sun come up over the marshy low country and the blue herons wading for their breakfast.
But the first time I heard this song I was shotgun in an old E class Mercedes driving down a particularly beautiful road in my town, moss trees creating a canopy over the road, century old homes with single pane lead windows and large sitting porches passing by slowly. I had a roadie G&T in my hand and my friend threw this on saying it reminded him of his childhood and then jokingly looked at me and asked what was gonna happen to good ole boys such as himself. I laughed because I never thought of him as such, he was more of the southern gentlemen type versus the good ole boy and I think he himself knew that.
However last night I was driving back to Manhattan and this song came on, afterwards I threw it on repeat over and over and again back in my apartment. I started thinking about my friend and those days and gave him a call since it has been some time. He answered and we chatted as this song played in the background. It warmed me and I felt the humidity even as it was 20 out and my radiators where clanking. When I hung up I looked out my window and realized something I have always known but usually forget: It's always the people who make wherever you reside home.
