Friends,
I’ve taken a break, in case you haven’t noticed, to take care of life. It’s been a tumultuous month or so but you’ll be pleased to know that the tumult is largely over. I’ll get back to that in a little while, but you should know that I took a little trip to Hemet today.
I had a check to deposit and the closest branch of my bank is in Riverside County’s home of potato farming, Hemet, California. Once I managed to wade through the traffic, the incessant lights and the low-motor skill holders of driving licenses, I rolled up to the parking lot and caught the attention of enough skinhead loiterers that I thought I should head inside.
Once I was buzzed through the outside doors and the vestibule doors (not entirely unlike this, and you know how that turned out), I was greeted by a pudgy security guard who insisted on shaking my hand and disco playing from the overhead sound system. Friday. Disco. The teller at the end motioned me over, “I can help you.”
Then I noticed the name badge on her teller window. “Excuse me, can I ask you a personal question? Is your name really Shimmy?” “Well, my name is much longer, so most people call me Shimmy.”
“With the disco playing and your name, this may be the most fun bank branch I’ve ever visited.” “Why thank you,” she said. “We try.”
So if you’re having a bad week, head to the Hemet branch of my bank. They seem to be having a pretty good time.
Your pal,
– bob