It was sometime around my freshman year of college when I got the call. I still remember it to this day.
Cute as a button and small as a purse, Ginger was a scampering, yipping puff of hair. She was a tiny black Pomeranian, which is classified as a toy dog breed because they're small like children's toys.
Our cousins gave her to us, back when she could fit in a mug. They called her Cookie, because she loved cookies. My Mom carried her home in her purse.
Hi, I'm Mike Lee. No, not that Mike Lee. He's someone else. No, not that one either. Me, Mike Lee, from New York, now in California.
Oh, you know a Mike Lee too? Nice. I know a bunch too. There are four at my company. And there were at least twelve at a previous company. Us Mike Lee's are everywhere.
A March 7th issue of The Onion was lying on the kitchen table next to a pile of newspapers. Gemini, whose hippie parents obviously named her during a drug-induced haze of sensibility, flipped through the paper. She sipped her coffee and turned to the horoscopes.
"Ah, Gemini," she said to herself. Which, obviously, was her horoscope. Damn those hippie parents.
Her horoscope read:
In a tragic twist of fate, you'll be overwhelmed this week by both a sense of fear and a pack of wolves.
"So you must be single?" asked the dealer with a grin.
I chuckled. "Yea. Is it that obvious?"
He patted the dashboard. "Yup. Married guys don't usually buy convertibles."
"We all have a purpose here. It's up to us to discover what it is."
I leaned back to catch more of the conversation. The somber cafe music gave their subject a serious tone, like they were discussing the fate of the world.
"There are a lot of people in the world," said a younger voice. "How can they all have a purpose?"
"White meat only."
- L. Spencer
"I'm trying to get with a white chick right now," Tim declared.
"Oh yea?" I raised an eyebrow. "How's that going?" I leaned back in my seat while keeping one hand on the steering wheel.
"You ever wonder about those missed chances?"
I scratched my chin. "What do you mean? Like Missed Connections on Craigslist?"
"No, no," Tim shook his head. "I mean, like, you meet someone briefly, but you don't really follow through. What if that person was The One for you? And now you lost your chance?"
"Doctor! Doctor!"
A torrent of tiny bangs shuddered the door. Zach leaned up and tried to focus on the clock. 3:00AM.
"Doctor! Doctor!"
"Why do so many girls go for assholes?" Ken asked.
I shrugged and took a swig of beer. "Maybe it's not as simple as that."
"Huh?" Ken shifted in his seat. "What do you mean?"
"Maybe those girls don't think those guys are assholes."
"Do people really live happily ever after?" asked the eleven year-old. He stared up at me with wide, eager eyes.
"Well…" I paused. I sucked in a breath. "That's a big question."
He continued to gaze at me, unwavering. I knew I had to give him an answer. It's rare nowadays for the young to seek advice from their elders, so I couldn't let him down.
Weekly random rambles, musings & writings of Mike Lee in San Francisco, CA