Teach
02-24-2017, 10:06 AM
I had a nightmare. “I was tossin’ and turnin’ turnin’ and tossin’. Tossin’ and turnin’ all night” (Bobby Lewis). Yes, I had a nightmare.
This spring, I plan to visit my cousin in Houston. He told me it was safe to come as at that time of the year the “Blue Northers” of winter will have long passed (When we speak on the phone he always kids me by saying: “Fill’er up and check ‘the all’”).
In my nightmare, I had just entered Boston’s Logan International Airport. I decide, before I pass through TSA security, to have a bowl of "chowdah" (not that wishy-washy, tomato-based, watered-down stuff they call “Manhattan”).
Well, I find a seat in this seafood place and place my order. I am frankly a little nervous. Although I’ve tried to remain anonymous (I knew there were those who wanted to know the true identity of the man they knew only as “Teach” (Walt)). The question has kept coming up: Who is he? Is he a communist? A nihilist? An anarchist? A fellow-traveler? A fifth columnist? None of the above. Just a “middle-mannered” former teacher from a quaint suburban Boston community.
Anyway, as I enjoyed my chowdah, I felt a sense of serenity. I would soon be visiting one of my dearest relatives. It was then, as I was about to leave the table and head for TSA security, that two women approached. They looked like they had just come from “Hooters”. Suddenly, and most unexpectedly, one, very subtly, put the palm of her hand across my mouth (I’ve been reading too many accounts of Kim Jong-nam). It was then that I woke up. I believe I let out a sigh of relief. I then went back to bed.
This spring, I plan to visit my cousin in Houston. He told me it was safe to come as at that time of the year the “Blue Northers” of winter will have long passed (When we speak on the phone he always kids me by saying: “Fill’er up and check ‘the all’”).
In my nightmare, I had just entered Boston’s Logan International Airport. I decide, before I pass through TSA security, to have a bowl of "chowdah" (not that wishy-washy, tomato-based, watered-down stuff they call “Manhattan”).
Well, I find a seat in this seafood place and place my order. I am frankly a little nervous. Although I’ve tried to remain anonymous (I knew there were those who wanted to know the true identity of the man they knew only as “Teach” (Walt)). The question has kept coming up: Who is he? Is he a communist? A nihilist? An anarchist? A fellow-traveler? A fifth columnist? None of the above. Just a “middle-mannered” former teacher from a quaint suburban Boston community.
Anyway, as I enjoyed my chowdah, I felt a sense of serenity. I would soon be visiting one of my dearest relatives. It was then, as I was about to leave the table and head for TSA security, that two women approached. They looked like they had just come from “Hooters”. Suddenly, and most unexpectedly, one, very subtly, put the palm of her hand across my mouth (I’ve been reading too many accounts of Kim Jong-nam). It was then that I woke up. I believe I let out a sigh of relief. I then went back to bed.