The best summer of my life was working in Nantucket right after I graduated from Virginia. Southerners have a way of gravitating to one another. While other regions of the countries have 6 degrees of separation, we often have just one. I remember meeting a University of Georgia co-ed working at sandwich shop. I asked her where she was from. “Washington, Georgia.” You must know my friend Marsh Pierce. “Yes, he’s my cousin,” and BOOM, friends for life. To this day, I keep up with friends I met that summer from Virginia, the Carolinas, Georgia and Tennessee. We all consider that the best summer of our lives.
I bartended and worked the grill at the Miacomet, the blue-collar, 9-hole golf course on the island. It was the perfect job. I opened the place up at 10 am and closed it around 9. During the day I would make $65 in tips, a veritable fortune back then. Then that night I would blow it all at The Muse, 30 Acres and the Chicken Box. I can still remember the songs those places played (Rick James, Give It To Me Baby), and still know the DJ who worked those 3 places. Everything about that summer was perfect. Although I was not the girlfriend type, I met a tall Tennessean and before I knew it, I had a girlfriend and was quite smitten.
Towards the end of the summer, my old nemesis, Mr. Protestant Work Ethic appeared. I can see him now, dressed in black with white linen, tugging on my shirt sleeve. “It’s time to go, you’re having too much fun, don’t you want to amount to anything? How are you going to end up on Wall Street working at a bar and hanging out on the beach?” There was absolutely no reason why I should have gone back to Virginia. Miss Tennessee was staying through Columbus Day and afterwards moving into an apartment on Comm Ave in Boston, but that fella dressed in black has always had a hold on me. He’s done me a lot of favors, but he can be a real pain in the ass too. I should’ve stayed longer. I still have a mental picture engraved in my mind, Miss T was crying as my ferry slipped away from its moorings. It’s an endearing thought because most folks cry because they are sick of me, and I won’t leave.
What a dumbass I was. I was feeling blue, why in the world would I come back to Richmond and give up on the best time of my life? And then it happened. The first day back in Richmond, I stumbled into Nelson and Gwatkin, an old and venerable men’s clothing store. At that time, I did not know the two gentleman who ran the store, Sam Sutton and Stokes Grimes, but somehow, they knew me as soon as I walked in the front door. I had been in Massachusetts for several months to the point of being used to a Boston accent. Suddenly, I noticed the mellifluous, truly musical Tidewater Virginia accents of Mr. Sutton and Mr. Grimes. I had heard people talk this way my whole life, but this time after being away, it was beautiful, downright operatic. They were so courtly and friendly. Mr. Grimes told me how my Uncle Massie had been in the store a couple days earlier and what they talked about, and Mr. Sutton told me how he was related to my Aunt Caroline and my conversation with those two gents could not have been more delightful. Walking out, I was a bit overwhelmed. “I really am in a different place, Virginia really is a unique place. I’m home, and I like it.” I remember that day because I felt an emotion that I was not used to. Thankfulness.
I’m not the best Christian in the world, but I will say I know my theology better than most. I’ve read about everything, am a Sunday regular, participated in countless bible and study groups, blah, blah blah. But despite how much I think I know, every now and then I get hit over the head with a 2 x 4, suddenly a startling revelation appears of something I should have grasped years ago. Thankfulness. The Episcopal liturgy is filled with references to give thanks unto God. The references are so numerous, it has always been a somewhat perfunctory exercise. One could reasonably think “God is a good guy, but he sure does want credit and praise for everything.” What has burst into my consciousness is God wants us to be thankful because it is good for us to be so.
I recently got back from a 2.5 week trip to the south of France and Italy. Like Nantucket years ago, I could have stayed. It was awesome, and of course I thought about how cool it would be to rent a flat for 2-3 months in Antibes or Milan. I wasn’t overly excited to be back in Richmond and was thinking about my next trip, but then my Nelson and Gwatkin experience resurfaced. My gardenias were in full bloom when I arrived home. Next to tobacco curing in an 19th century barn, the greatest aroma in the world. When I walked down the sidewalk in my neighborhood, everyone spoke, often stopping to chat. Complete strangers would extend pleasantries. I had coffee at Stella’s one morning and my friend L. W. sat down and told me about the bullet holes that are still in his family’s house from the Battle of Sailor’s Creek. My friend Bullet Bill invited me to go to Charlottesville and watch Virginia play baseball in the NCAA Tourney. We sat in the fancy hospitality section where the food and beer were free (of the 8 billion words in the English lexicon, “free” is my very favorite). Several people invited me over for supper. Virginia Beach is not my favorite place, but one morning I grabbed my daughter Ella and we drove there. Virginia Beach seemed different, more acceptable; my perspective had changed. The beach was a mile wide. The people were nice, and we ate at our favorite sandwich shop of all time, Taste Unlimited. Although we both had been there 100 times, we were so jacked. The nice college girls there on 36th and Pacific fixed us a picnic lunch which we ate on the beach. On the way home, we stopped at Pierce’s Barbeque in Lightfoot. Again, we were like children on Christmas Eve. Excited beyond belief to make new memories at a place where we had old ones we talked about. Ella and I had a glorious day. Since I’ve been back, I’ve had good friends from North Carolina and then Alabama come through town for visits. I’ve attended a couple funerals of 90-year-old plus ladies, friends of my family and reconnected with great people I’ve been blessed to have part of my life.
I am lucky, and I am thankful.
I’m not sure how long my current buoyancy will last, but the one thought I’d like to leave with the Real Clear Markets crowd is being thankful is good. Everything bad is the opposite of being thankful. Jealousy, envy and hatred are at the root of everything that causes trouble in the world. As I ponder the high that I’m on, being thankful is good for business and investing too. Generally, when we make an investment mistake it stems from the old adage “hogs get fat, pigs get slaughtered.” Maybe if we were in a state of thankfulness, we would have more temperance, not rush into bad decisions and be more tolerant of others?
Look, I’m much closer to being a scoundrel than an angel, but I think I’m on to something with this thankfulness kick I’m on.
