From the Desk of The DBeazy One-Man-Think-Tank

At this moment, I’m 56 revolutions short of 62 trips around the Sun. Maybe that is relevant, maybe not. But for whatever reason, I’ll cast my vote tonight for relevance. It is the 23^rd day of August in the year of our Lord, 2025, and I’m in a casino hotel room on the Mississippi Gulf Coast. I don’t do the casino thing much anymore, but on occasion, I like to try my luck and get a “fancy, sit-down meal.” There is something about those tightly made beds, the “comped” room and meal, and the high-story window overlooking limousines and visitors who take advantage of valet parking. I don’t know, it’s just a few hours’ escape from the drudgery of the daily grind.

I hit the slots and was able to play for a while. I eventually lost my slot money, then played poker for a while and lost there as well. I stopped back by the slot machines on my way to my room and won back all of my losses and then some, so I called it a night.

Upstairs in my room, I took out my laptop, took off my boots, and cracked the red waxed seal on a half-liter of Maker’s. I poured myself a glass, pulled up YouTube, and immediately missed my Louisiana Catahoula Leopard Dog and late-night companion, Dumas Walker. After all, my normal nightly routine is whiskey, good music, and hanging out with Dumas, while battling the empty page.

Regarding my good fortune of the week, I sat in the lamp-lit room, and I heard the voice of my dear Grandmother repeating one of her famous but not original idioms, “The Lord takes care of fools and little children.” I looked at the suggested songs from YouTube. I cannot argue the reason, but I clicked on The Statler Brothers’ version of “The Old Rugged Cross,” followed by the Statler’s version of “How Great Thou Art.” I thought, “Damn, Mama Leake.” Mama Leake was a teacher by trade, and as far as I’m concerned, she taught until her last breath.

I poured another “two fingers” of bourbon, and I considered what was transpiring in room 523 at the IP Casino. Again, I heard her voice, “The Lord takes care of fools and little children.” While there are accidents in life, there was nothing accidental about this night.

I considered the glass before me, kicked it back, allowing the amber liquid to sit on my tongue briefly, then gingerly swallowed, fully experiencing the warmth, aroma, and all the physical and spiritual elements absorbed through white oak barrel walls over the past six years or so. I have an image of a Jester, a Fool, that will one day exist as a tattoo on my body, symbolizing how I feel that much of the world sees me, and, consequently, often how I see myself. And again, I heard Mama Leake’s voice, “fools, and little children.”

I clicked on another song: Larry Fleet – “Where I Find God” (with Morgan Wallen). I listened and at its completion, I gave up on the writing and the music and logged out of my laptop. I sat there in the room, in the stillness and the quiet, and just allowed my God to speak to me. Now I am aware that many Sunday Pew fillers might judge me this night, but you don’t worry me. Yes, I thoroughly enjoy the brown spirits. Yes, I like cards, I like numbers, and I will bet on a good game of Roomba Pool. I don’t often darken the doors of a church. I also believe that God can find you anywhere, and on this night, God used the words of my Grandmother to remind me of this.

I made sure the thermostat was below 70, I peeled back tightly made hotel bed covers, and I thanked God for taking care of this fool. I drifted off, thinking about motorcycles, my family, and my passionate pursuit of short-term goals. Most of all, though, I drifted off, reminding myself that it is all up to me.

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