Wending northward, I had one of my many LGH (Let's Go See!) moments.
Strolling the quay, who should appear, but Rosemary!
It's been years since I've seen her. We met when I was the College of Education's computer ombudsman. Rosemary selected the softwate for the University and taught the classes in how to use it. Over the years we became friends.
When we met she was a Harley chick with her own 1200. Her husband, an automatic-weapons enthusiast enjoyed firing one of 15 or so machine guns when not out riding. We became friends.
Soon long after her husband died (of cancer) Rosemary retired. Bored, she accepted a position as installer-trainer for a software company that linked together Jamaica's banks...and all their associated offshore accounts.
On Sunday evenings Rosemary'd fly to Jamaica, spend the week, and on Friday, fly back. It was different from her Harley life.
The owner of the company was vegetarian and health-conscious. When they weren't working, he'd coax Rosemary into hiking around the island with him. Eventually, he even managed to wean her from her weekend jaunts with cocaine.
We lost track of each other after I started traveling. And besides, I was always too fat. But that's what cocaine'll do for yuh.
It was nice to see her...albeit only in my mind's eye. She was much slimmer than this Rosemary.
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