And the Beat Goes On.

Here’s the thing.

My friend Jessie from high school had a heart attack last week. She’s going to be OK, but I haven’t talked about it until now because I just didn’t feel to. That and I didn’t know how.

“Hey, Sugar, you wild woman. Let’s run to the Black Oak after work. Barney can get us in. Purple Passions, Baby! Woo-Hoo, party!”

I honestly think Jessie was the first drunk teenage girl to coin that phrase.

“I can’t. You know Prissy’d have my hide.”
“So, just tell her you’re spending the night with me.”
“We’ve got school, tomorrow, Jessie. Besides, you know I’ll get caught.”
“Sugar, you are too scared of Prissy. What is she going to do, disown you? C’mon, it’s a pool party. …Shep’s going to be there.
“Shit!”

She was the instigator and the organizer. If there was fun to be had and no good to be done, she was your gal. And damned if I didn’t trail after her.

At midnight, Jessie would run laps at the track. She had legs from here to… to…well-there, and the poor girl sported DDD’s. Many a man was heard crying into his pillow when she had a breast reduction 10 years ago. To answer your question. Yes, she still looks gorgeous.

She should still be tempting me to live a little.

She shouldn’t be alone to take care of her son.
She shouldn’t be 2000 miles away because of her rat-bastard ex-husband.
She shouldn’t have had to miss the reunion because she had no money.
She shouldn’t have to cry on the phone because she’s sad and lonely.
She shouldn’t have a 100% blockage of an artery!

But, maybe, after thinking about it, I know why.

At 39, It’s still not fair.

But is it fair at any age?