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Intersections

I just met the most fascinating young man. Yes, fascinating!

He stepped out of the pages of time to usher me into a place in line (in front of him) at the bookstore. Double-breasted jacket with crested buttons. Shiny loafers with little tassels. A red paisley bowtie. And manners … wow. Right outta the movies!

theBookstoreThankfully there was a long line at the purchasing counter, so we could strike up a conversation. It’s the one time I could have stood in line for hours! How fortuitous for me that Starbucks is just next door to the bookstore — and that he suggested we adjourn to the coffee shop for (sing, please!): Getting to know you! Getting to know all about you!

I shall paint a portrait for you.
A face chiseled from the kind of bronzed sandstone formations that one finds in Monument Valley. Eyes that crinkled into long dashes with the joy of laughter in our conversation. Closely cropped hair — such that none could possibly be out of place. Long slender fingers that would grab much more than an octave.  

That’s the visual. Here’s what was beneath:
This young man is so well read, such an artful conversationalist, and knock-yer-sox off interesting. Skipping from the topics of books, to race horses, history, religion, travel, dancing, music and more … he spoke like a kind of statesman. Or maybe he had just memorized charming lines (lots of them) from an old Cary Grant movie? 

He may have been born the year I started college, but that’s almost not believable. Didn’t he really move through time from an earlier era? A period in history where conversation replaced emailing. When books were held in our laps and pages turned with licked fingers.  During a time when mothers coached lovely manners into little boys. A time when there truly was a Southern Gentleman. 

Thank you for a lovely afternoon.