Life is Normal Again

Friends:
Life is Normal Again


Whatever that means.

Life is never really normal, as you know ... something's always messing with it to make it incongruous and difficult. But on the island things are returning to what we'd like to call normal. First of all, traffic is manageable, without license plates from all over the country, particularly California. And the whole place has the feel of "empty," which is what it was before we all showed up here. Property is getting mold on it since the real estate market has collapsed and values are plunging. If you don't believe me, just go up to any of the banks and observe: people are frantic, withdrawing their money, buying shovels at Ace for burying it in the yard, restructuring their loans ... and bankers are no longer calling with lunch invitations. It all has the "feel" of an impending tsunami.

Even restaurateurs are kinder these days, what with plenty of tables for locals without having to go to the back door down the ally and beg for a takeout. Tourists on bikes are no longer a menace, and the beach is virtually unused now. Well, that's not quite right, if you consider over on East Beach one still has to dodge dog dung when you walk ... who are these people (they live over on Sea Island, too!)?

But over here at the hangar, things are always happening, and life is anything but normal.
Why, just today we had beautiful ladies, models and photographers, posing on Mr. Gruber's fleet of airplanes, pretending to be off to some exotic spot like Maine or Palm Beach. I attempted to join the one most beautiful model, Mary Bryan (her phone number is my very own secret), whose picture is included (except she reminded me I had coached her in soccer when she was 12 ... young women no' longer have any respect for age). And to compound my efforts at being suave, she reminded me that her father and I were business partners! So much for that fantasy! They suggested that my orange shirt didn't match any decent football team colors, Tennessee, notwithstanding, and I volunteered to remove it so I'd appear to be a Dawg or Clemson Tiger ... we never wore shirts in Colquitt in September!

But the most exciting thing happening this morning at dawn (well, it was 9 AM, and just seemed like dawn to me!) was the Georgia National Guard esoteric exercise. When I pulled up, they were taking names and kicking you-know-what...young, virile men, running around madly in full camouflage, biceps bulging, testosterone oozing, sweating profusely, frantically setting up to counter extraterrestrial aliens or some sleezy politician who might show up (which I thought was appropriate). I had first assumed that Mr. Gruber had purchased all the equipment and was adding that for screening purposes for his airline empire. But things turned nasty and we had to submit to body searches for weapons or other terrorist paraphernalia. Grown men were running around in moon suits, in 95 degree heat, pretending to counter some supposed threat from those innocents here at the hangar. It was all very weird and other­worldly, but we enjoyed the entertainment.

But like most things, it ended. They broke camp, packed up and by 2 PM were gone. Even the models left and nobody but us regular normal folks remained behind having survived another normal day. We who witnessed all this will not only sleep better tonight. but it will give us, and you as well, great comfort that Mr. Gruber is on top of things around here.

Bud
September 6, 2007