Well folks, today is my brother Hunter's
In honor of this momentous occasion; a short story:
I can honestly say that I don’t remember the first time I smoked a clove. But I do remember the first time I saw one.
My brother and I were spending some time in Europe for the summer in between his semesters at Oxford when we found ourselves at a hostel bar in Interlaken, Switzerland. We walked in and ordered a beer and spoke with the bartender in English for awhile. He tuned Bob Dylan into the radio and we sat down at a table to relax and watch people.
Sooner or later Hunter noticed a girl across the room and pointed her out. We watched her for awhile and tried to figure out what she was smoking. In Switzerland it could have been anything.
Before I knew it, someone had walked up next to her and started talking to her about something. It was my brother. He pointed at the clove and leaned in closer to speak in her ear over the music and noise. She was as beautiful as she might seem reading this; standing on the edge of the room, shyly glancing our way and talking to her friends. She struck a match and lighted the end of my brother’s clove as they continued talking into each others ears with Dylan singing about heat pipes.
I enjoyed watching them as if it were me and that girl talking in the corner, standing close to each other; because it’s the idea, not the experience that seems like so much fun.
I thought he might have sweaty palms standing there talking to her, but he was playing it cool, he had his all cards lined right up before he even went over there. Nicely done, I told him later.
So whenever I smoke cloves that image pops into mind for a brief moment and I feel as cool as a guy in a bar, with a girl.
And as Peter often says;
“If you feel cool, you are cool.”
Happy birthday broseph, you showed me how to be smoove with the ladies, which assisted in my talking Ki into marrying me, and then having a kiddo with me, whom I believe you love immensely, so thanks.
Have a happy day dude.