An Open Letter to Dame Angela Lansbury

Miss Lansbury,

I think you and I need to be a thing. A romantic/sexual/bang-buds/whateveryouwannacallit kinda thing.  But after we go through a whole getting married kinda thing.  A getting-married-with-no-pre-nuptual-agreement kinda thing.

Because, you are a lady. A dame even.

And because there's no reason to mince words.

The young ladies and I? That's just not really working. 

Also not working is me.  Well, that's not true at all.   I'm the opposite of not working. I'm working too damn much. All the time really. And working doesn't work for me.  In fact, I've been relying on work, well, money, for half my life and it (work) really sucks.  I think I've given it the good old college try and it's not for me.

You know what is for me? You. And your money.

Why should I deny it?  We're both adults here. 

Wow. Just...Wow

I've been working at a personal injury law firm for the past year. We have clients all over the state. I have been doing a little bit of everything at the office: I carry cases as an attorney,  I help with organization and operations, and I sign up clients and bring them their checks at the end of their cases.

I was making a run of checks out to clients today and my last one was outside of Pinewood, South Carolina.  I was running earlier than our scheduled appointment, but most people don't mind if you show up early with money.

I pulled up to the trailer and a young black man was standing on the porch. In a thick country accent, he said, "You here for Lorenzo?

"Yup. Sure am," I replied.

"Lorenzo ain't here yet. Come on in the house."

So I followed him into the trailer. Inside, a grandmother was sitting in a comfortable chair watching a large screen TV. One of those judge TV shows was on. There were framed pictures of Martin Luther King and a black angel with white wings and there was a cross on the wall.

The unnamed young man, the brother(?), silently led me into the kitchen and sat me down at the kitchen table. He sat down in the chair next to me. The mother(?) was frying up something in the kitchen. An aunt emerged from the back bedroom and they all started chatting.