The Unloved and Unfinished

  Teaser:  What would you do to meet your favorite star and what would you give?  Find out how one such encounter affected the fan.      Her painting took my breath away.  Leaning against a chair in our hotel room, I couldn’t stop myself from moving closer and crouching before it;  the scene drew me right in.  The tall pine trees of a northern forest filtered the strong sunlight into dramatic streaks.  The lush foliage covered most of the woodland floor, with a small path wandering its way into the horizon.  Along the trail, ever so small and off-center, stood a lad looking up at the beam of light streaking down on top of him.  For the simplicity of the composition, the message was quietly dramatic:  spotlight.        I was overwhelmed by her labor.  But the artist, Alice, was less sure.      “I hope he doesn’t just throw this in a closet or something,” her voice offered, not co...

 “Good evening, Mr. Bowker,” Mrs. Richardson coos with her shaky, elderly voice.  The New Orleans’ night air is always so thick with magnolias and Cajun spices.  The sweet, piquant aroma touches deep within, like a lover.  Who could stay in on such a lovely night? “Good evening, Mrs. Richardson.”  Her hand tastes of Ivory soap and Aspricreme.  She bows and lowers her eyes as a proper lady should.  Despite her age, Mrs. Richardson remembers how society behaves.  The street light, painting my neighborhood into a sepia picture, does her justice. Her granddaughter, on the other hand, is the painted jezebel.  She rolls eyes and snaps her gum like a common harlot.  I stare with a belly-full of brimstone.  Her lady business smells of all the men she’s begged.  I could fix that. “Nice evening.  Are you on your way home?” “Yes.  Brittani was kind enough to escort me for some ice cream.”  With her age-spotted hands, Mrs. R...