The music artist, Martin Sexton, is a talent that Mary and I have enjoyed. Becoming a groupie was somewhat accidental. While on a job in Pensacola, Florida, I  was rather shocked to find him booked at a smaller dive bar. It must have been a refueling stop for the bus. Having seen him a number of times before, it was my opinion that the serenade he gave, was simply what he felt like doing, as if it was just him, and no audience. He started by saying, “I like to yodel, I don’t know why”. In my opinion, it was the best concert he ever gave. This is my version of that. Not the quality part, just having some fun:

There was an annual mountain bike race called Burnin’ at the Bluff’. I’m not quite sure what year this story was made, but quite sure it’s been over a decade. I was riding along the lakeside trail, as the sun was setting over water. This time of day, ‘The golden hour’, is what it’s called, as low beams of light shimmer through the trees. As nice as it was, I was quite used to these, but adding more rays, reflecting up from below, this truly did, set the forest aglow. Though I was racing real hard, and giving it my all, the beauty did not escape me, but from the corner of my eye, was the vantage afforded me. Late in a long race, such as this, people get thinned out, and I did not miss. One can even pretend, if one is so inclined, that they are quite alone in the wilderness, just for small snippets of time.

There are plenty of occasions where things don’t go well, but this was not one of those. Life was quite swell. I came upon a female rider, from a different team. She was riding well, cornering smooth and true, then I asked her, “mind if I come through?” She was a joy to pass, and as I did, she said the kindest little thing, though I don’t remember what, but in the sweetest voice, it did make me look up, for only a glance. Though I was racing real hard, and giving it my all, the beauty did not escape me. The light was still grand. Then the trail turned steeply up just as the conversation of only a few words had to come to an end. I might have kicked it in the butt a little, just to show off. I knew her name, and had seen her at various events. I knew that people liked her, and I saw no reason to argue.

It seemed like our overlapping friend group must have done a collective eye roll, perhaps even a mutter, “for crying out loud”, for from out of the blue, one of Mary’s girlfriends laid a kiss on me, her husband right there, then said to my confused self, “That’s from Mary”. Later did I learn, one of my best friends gave Mary a big kiss. “That is from David”, was then what he said.

So the ice had been broken, by people with some moxie, since now we have both kissed, if only by proxy. Neither of them were quick, or pecks on the head, perhaps that is why, we eventually were then wed.

A Burnin’ Story

A little sampling