Good Ol’ Boys
Gamesmanship, and Glynn… Where To Draw The Line?
Have you ever wondered why in a world full of rules and laws, some people are made to follow those rules, and yet, oddly enough, those exact same rules, do not apply to everyone? Is it that some of us are, actually, in possession of an internal, moral code, or compass, that guides our actions, and others aren’t? Do we all have that same little “chip” hard-wired inside of us, but it just speaks louder to some than others? Does it make us, the ones who abide by society’s norms, naïve and stupid? Does it, somehow, make the “outlaws” smarter, because they’re so adept at manipulating, or operating outside the system? I’m in search of answers? So, if you’ve got any pearls of wisdom to share, or have any insight into this subject, that might help me make sense of this, please reach out and let me know!
The proverbial “Moral Compass”
For myself, I choose to live as a person of faith. I, genuinely, TRY to adhere to the law, and play by the rules, every single day. “Somewhere Down The Road,” is a sweet Barry Manilow song, whose lyrics were once written inside a note and sent to me; that note now rests in my black,” Love Letters” box, along with the original, handwritten recipe for Easy’s Lemon Cake, and other such things. Anyways, as the song proclaims in its title (that’s pretty much where this analogy ends, though), I too believe that somewhere down the road, there will be a “day of reckoning;” a day, when we all “meet our Maker,” and I’m going to go one step further, and contend that on that day, there will be no legal provision which includes a “Statute Of Limitations.” We’ll all just be divided into two lines; it won’t matter whether a year, or ten, has passed, since you were found guilty of defrauding five different courts in three different states, lying in depositions, or committing perjury to achieve your own end…you’re still going to be issued a “special E ticket” (probably via Ferrari, as we can’t afford to waste any time getting you there), directly into line #2.
Line #1 will be comprised of the people who tried; the ones who never purposely “thumbed their noses” at the world and her rules, and legitimately did their level best to play fair. We are all only human, after all, so there may still be some people who stand in that line, who we’d prefer to see “queing it up” in the other line…Line #2? Maybe the ones who “tried selling out” their business partners, talking garbage, and “leaking” to third parties that the business partner was expendable, because she hadn’t invested any ‘hard money” in their Coterie just yet? What about the landscaper/developer, who sees absolutely no conflict, or problem with the “physical extension of boundaries” that will surely disrupt an entire, “eco and environmental system” on a pristine strip of South Coastal Georgia’s oceanfront dunes and beach, where Sea Turtles and Skimmers have made their home for centuries, so that her client on 18th Street can fully maximize every opportunity to absorb each and every square inch of real estate to build their dream resort retreat…environment, history and neighbors be damned? Or, there’s the question of the Executor/Trustee of an estate, whose task was to FAIRLY distribute the belongings of a beloved Mother, to each of her four daughters, EQUALLY; observing the certain notes she had written on specific items meant for a certain child? A thorough inventory and transparent process was promised by the Executor/Trustee, (also the Nephew of the Mother). As a note of reference, the Mother, already had a professionally, drafted and legally executed Trust, Will, and Advanced Health Care Directive. One Friday evening, the Nephew and two of the daughters, took the Mother to dinner, and that exact evening, at 10:30 pm, the Mother’s legally drafted, and executed Will was changed, in handwritten notes, without witness or notary (until many days or weeks later), and which resulted in the nephew being left in charge? The result not only NEVER included any inventory being done, nor distributed, but the Mother’s belongings, when she passed three years later, were offered to two of the girls, while the “Trustee” took what he wanted, and the minimal leftovers were offered to the remaining two daughters. Which line do those people stand in?
Maybe, the lines are not that, clearly, black and white though; should a third line be considered? Maybe those people and their transgression(s) weren’t as blatant or as consistent in their offenses, as Al, and his 70+ years of repeated abuses? Better yet…maybe in place of a third line being created, a circle could be drawn in between the two lines, and that circle could become a “holding pen,” so to speak, for the not so obvious candidates; not the ones like Al, that have earned nothing less than the express train to line #2, and on to hell? Ok, now I believe I may be on to something?
The middle representing the “holding pen”
One late Saturday afternoon, the Twenty-Fourth of April, 2004, I was soaking in a lovely bath filled with bubbles and the relaxing aroma of French Lavender oil, relaxing for a spell before starting to ready myself for, what was “slated” to be the wedding of the decade, at the Georgia Resort. The Ocean Club had been closed for almost 10 days to be prepped and readied for the onslaught of finery that would adorn that day, symbolizing a memorable union, and dress the stunningly clear tent, that spanned the distance between the club building’s, exterior edge across the sweeping green lawn towards the barrier that signaled the beach dunes and ocean just beyond. The crystal chandelier that was suspended from the center of that twinkling room with its thousands of tiny, white lights, was the perfect contrast to the stunning glitterati that would fill the space in a matter of just a few hours! I suppose if there was to be a “short list” of the presiding families on that treasured little strip of land stretched between the warm and balmy waters of the Southeastern seaboard and the ebb and flowing mixture of marsh and water on its western edge, The Cardinals, hosts of that special evening and parents of the Bride were certainly among the first to be counted.
Our own invitation to the much celebrated Nuptials…
As I enjoyed the last few moments of the quiet late, afternoon, and the quilt of bubbles that enveloped me, I heard the shrill buzz of our “Draper” doorbell, and knew Al would answer the door. Martha had picked up Emily and PJ a couple hours earlier to take them to the movies and then back to the beach club for dinner, as Al and I were attending the celebration of the season. I had just wrapped the huge white bath sheet around my body, as I exited the bathtub, when Al appeared in the doorway of my bathroom and dressing room. The drained and stricken look that had turned his usually tanned face to a pasty shade of yellowish grey, stopped me in my tracks; “what is it, what just happened?” I must have repeated that phrase at least three times before he answered. The low tone he took while slowly explaining was not at all customary, and I immediately feared what was about to be revealed. He handed me a stack of papers, and said there had been a Sheriff at the door, serving him with a Warrant for Assault and Battery. He was almost too detached as the words left his mouth, but I knew he was indeed shaken, as he lowered himself to sit on the wide limestone surround of my, now drained bathtub. “Wait, who did you assault I asked, and when? What was this all about?” He had just started explaining when his cell rang. The rest of the story I overheard, as Al recounted the details of the event to Billy Ray, who just happened to have called at a most precipitous moment. Al explained, the charges were made by a man who had been one of several security guards at The Ocean Club’s second gate (the one usually reserved for service and construction vehicles, but also happened to be a bit closer to our home’s driveway than the Main Guard gate). Apparently Al had driven through the service entrance one afternoon a couple weeks back, and the guard, being somewhat new to his post, had had the audacity to step out and stop Al’s Porsche. Al kept on relaying the events as they had occurred; of course, upon being stopped, Al was out of his car in a moment, exclaiming, “don’t you know who I am?” The guard answered, “no, he didn’t and Al could just get back in his vehicle, turn around and go back to the main gate, as this gate was reserved for credentialed personnel only!” Oh yee gads… I could only imagine the reaction that comment had to have elicited, and I wasn’t wrong either! Turns out, Al had not only NOT gotten back in his car and done what was asked, but had confronted the guard, who he guessed was about 65 – 70 years old; Al grabbed him just below his shirt collar and shoved him into the little guard shack building, while telling him exactly who he was, and that he’d better not forget it again! Only then, did Al get back into the Porsche, but he didn’t turn around; instead he drove straight ahead and towards home. I didn’t want to interject or interrupt the conversation, so I listened as was my role, but it did occur to me later…the guard had absolutely taken Al at his word. Not only did he not forget who Al was, but he remembered so well, he had gone and filed a police report, filed a lawsuit, and now we were in the midst of dealing with that reality! Hard to believe there could be more to heap upon that “little encounter” but it got worse. Apparently, the guard had experienced some shortness of breath and a heaviness in his chest after Al drove off, and experienced a heart attack; an ambulance was called, and he was checked into the hospital. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing? With every word, Al wasn’t just beginning to recover his composure and usual bluster, but was getting indignant, as he told Billy Ray, “it’s all just all b__sh_t!” I’m not sure how the rest of their conversation went as Al got up, gesturing to me that he was going to get dressed and left my bathroom. I finished getting myself ready; putting on the long black silhouette, closely-fitted dress with the strappy, jeweled stilettos I’d been dying to finally wear and were the perfect compliment to the Ruby drop necklace, that had been my Christmas gift that year. Even while reeling from the events of the past couple hours, I glanced in the mirror before walking downstairs. I knew the exterior shell was sharply put together, but my insides still felt shaken, as I accepted and digested the gravity of the drama and consequences that Al (we) were facing. We drove the short distance (which didn’t even necessitate leaving our gated enclave) to the Ocean Club’s entrance. The procession of guests entering the painstakingly, decked-out and glamorous building (also Al’s first project at the resort) was a magnificent sight and the evening promised to be nothing short of magical. We were greeted inside by many familiar and shining faces, and tray upon tray of chilled, and full champagne flutes, as well as the fantastic, musical accompaniment of a “Louis Armstrong style” big band; truly NO detail had been overlooked!
Within five minutes, Billy Ray and Bubba III, much like the rest of the other men in the room, all looking quite dapper (I do love a man in a Tuxedo), were animatedly talking and headed straight for us; we exchanged brief pleasantries, before the two men excused themselves, asking Al to join them, and off they went in the direction of the men’s richly, wood-paneled locker room. I’m still not sure what was discussed that evening, or if there was anyone else back there, consulting with them, but I know when the three of them rejoined the party, Al was smiling, holding a glass of champagne, which he offered me, as he grabbed me by the waist, and suggested we dance. The entire episode was never mentioned again…period! It was disturbing, but just one of the many illustrations, and part of my education on the topic of “good ole boy gamesmanship in Glynn.”
Not so differently, a couple years earlier, Al and Emily were going to drive home for our summer break; he wanted to get this one specific car from Georgia to California, and thought it would be a fun experience for Emily to plan the trip, and the stops along the way. Two days before they were to leave for their cross-country drive west, and PJ and I were set to fly home, Al was stopped for a traffic infraction. Thankfully, that officer knew, all too well, exactly who Al was, so there was no ticket and no drama ,but he did point out a fairly important side note; Al’s California Driver’s License had expired on his birthday two months earlier. Not a great way to start a road trip? But, alas…no need to worry; in the world of Glynn, that was, both, easily, and instantly, fixable. Again, with the Bubba III/Billy Ray “homie hook-up,” anything was possible; in this equation though, there was another player, so the next afternoon, following a few meetings, and Al’s tennis routine, Al and Billy Ray were off to the local DMV, to meet Bobby Short, and fix the license mess. Al and Billy Ray called not 30 minutes later, and asked if the kids and I wanted to meet them at the beach club for an early dinner; I was shocked, but said sure. They already had secured a coveted table, and J.T. was delivering my glass of Pinot Grigio when the kids and I walked in the beach club entrance and greeted Marquetta, sitting behind the entrance desk, before joining Al and Billy Ray. Al couldn’t get over it; he was like a little kid describing the candy he had collected at Halloween. He proceeded to describe the process; they met Bobby Short, who walked them in to the Mobile Trailer that was the “interim” DMV; they immediately walked up to the first clerk, bypassing the line of four to five people waiting, and Al gave his fingerprint and signed his name; next they walked to the front of a second line, where Bobby told Al to stand still and look a certain direction…a camera flashed, and BOOM, Bobby Short said he’d personally deliver Al’s license the next morning, bright and early so Al and Emily could be on their way! No muss, no fuss…it’s the Bubba III, Billy Ray and Glynn way!
It’s not that things like those last little “dittys” don’t happen all the time, all around the world, but the preponderance of those occasions that occurred there, and seemingly with always the same cast of characters, has a ring of “shadiness” that “warrants” closer observation. Also, I just have to think there’s a correlation between those types of happenings, and the people who will end up in line #2, right? There should be no confusion about line #2! That second line is reserved for that distinct breed of person who woke up one morning and decided that the world and her rules, were not meant for them. The line #2 group, consider themselves so superior, so clever, so beyond reproach, that they’ve spent the majority of their days, figuring out how to, with exacting precision, bend, break, reconfigure, reinterpret, or simply disregard the rules! My guess, (or hope), is that that the line #2 candidates will someday be ushered to a place where the rules CAN no longer be ignored, and accountability will be both swift and fitting. Will there be “fire and brimstone,” or will there be a little, red, horned-devil standing there with a hoe (oops…no, that whole “Hoe” thing might actually work in the “outlaws” favor…take “Candy,” for instance…she’d be only too thrilled to be of service again) or a rod, ready to take their place “at bat?” Either way, I have to believe in a system of justice that works more effectively than the one we have now, the one here on planet earth; a system that can be manipulated, even by the very people who are tasked with overseeing that the rules are upheld? A judiciary, who doesn’t abuse his 50+ years of experience, representing and protecting the most elite of outlaws, and then turns a blind eye, further abusing his title, position, and the, new, elevated station of higher justice, with the same irreverence, or feigned ignorance that governed the “gamesmanship” of his past.
One wonders how in the world things like this were allowed to happen… but then again… “Outside the Law” Right?
The diehard “outlaws,” the ones like Al, and Billy Ray…well, it’s a given that they’ve spent the majority of life, living outside the law, figuring out ways to cheat, hide, manipulate and make their needs and priorities, ALL THAT MATTERS, disregarding the cost or pain their actions cause others? Then there are outlaws, like K. Ass, Al’s accountant, or Bubba III; they’re a bit more challenging to diagnose. The resulting damage, inflicted on the target is the same, but would these particular, “tier-2” outlaws have figured out how to defraud and manipulate the system all on their own; or did they fall prey, requiring an extra nudge or push, that secured them a place in line #2? One thing’s for sure, that’s going to be one heck of an interesting day. Being a Libra, I’m fascinated by balance and equality; I can’t wait to see which line is longer, but my personal experience dictates that I’ll be betting and putting my chips on line #2.
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