Mike arrived a week ago, having hitched a ride with his young friend Matt who was going to the twice-yearly flea market/antique event in Round Top. It was an unexpected trip, but it turned out to be perfect timing. Mike finished the project he wanted to finish and took care of me before, during, and after my surgery. They snuck out of here at three this morning while I was sleeping. Instead of waking me to say good-bye, Mike left Post-it note love letters all over the house!
Matt is a twenty-something collector of gasoline signs, like Mike, and a graduate student at Clemson. Those two talk with great enthusiasm about signs, but Matt is more internet savvy and he shops online at eBay and Craigslist almost constantly, bidding on this, selling that, his phone attached to him like another hand.
When he was a little boy, he was crawling around under his granddaddy's house and found some old signs, and he's been searching for old advertising signs ever since--primarily neon and enamel ones.
We took him to Lisa's for dinner last night and he loved our Mexican food. On the way home, he said, "I'm a mama's boy, that's for sure. My mama is the coolest person I know. She was even my English teacher in seventh grade."
Mike adores his mama, too. On his barn, he has a sign, "Dedicated to my mother, a lifetime Democrat devoted to civil rights."
When his daddy knew he was dying, his last words were, "Take care of your mama,"--and, of course, that's Mike's forte. To say someone "takes care of his mama" is about the highest tribute Mike can give another man.
Now the two of them are rolling toward Georgia, talking signs all the way, I'm sure. I woke up with the light on the Happy Deck and no Mike to be found, just a cluster of little notes from a generous big teddy bear of a man. I'm glad he has a traveling companion for the long drive back, but I miss his big, lively presence in the house this morning!
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