While I did not live this chapter of my autobiography firsthand, I have been told this information so many times over the years by Dusty that I can recite the whole episode verbatim in my slumber. So, that is what I am going to do.


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For the first two weeks after we shared McMuffins at Mickey D's, Dusty vacationed in the Poconos, where he would one day take me to show me one of his favorite getaways. While there, he enjoyed several rounds of 18-holes. A sport he attempted in vain to teach me how to play. I never did comprehend the logic behind hitting a golf ball, then chasing it, only to whack it somewhere else again. I guess I could not see the sense in those actions. However, Putt-Putt's a different situation altogether.

Dusty also favored whitewater rafting on Lake Wallenpaupack. That activity is a first class blast! He also explored the Hickory Run State Park and Boulder Fields, where he hiked the scenic, out-and-back, mile-and-a-half long Shades of Death Trail as well as enjoyed several other luxuries.

Upon his return, it was 9:30pm on Saturday night and Dusty was back at the Nashville Palace on MaGavoc Pike across from the Opryland Hotel. To this day this venue remains a popular tourist destination. Lorrie Morgan, Ricky Van Shelton, and perhaps Nashville's most famous dishwasher of them all, Randy Travis, got their starts here. On this particular night, the house-band Zelder Mill rocked the stage.

Seated at the end of the bar nursing a double-strained, emulsified, whiskey sour, Dusty observed a long-time acquaintance mouth to him from across the room, "Sounding good tonight as usual, dude."

The lighting and sound engineer for the establishment, Dusty prided himself on the quality of his work. This became another lesson over the course of time he taught me to learn well. Dusty was never satisfied with his efforts unless the crowd obviously savored the live performances of the Palace. To him, there was nothing better than excellent food and even better Country music. Not in our town, anyway. I can not state I disagree with his assessment.

Dancers gyrated to the beat of the music and boots were scooted. Contented, Dusty sat back, relaxed, and soaked up the pleasant evening. He finished the drink in the rocks glass he held in his hand and called the bartender's attention for another round. Three was his limit while he was on the clock though.

"Okay. I've known you well for the last four years, my friend. And, I know you only guzzle your drinks when there's something important on your mind. So, spill it already. What's gnawing at you tonight?" Travis MacNamara questioned as he placed another full glass on the bar in front of Dusty.

"Sometimes the damnest things happen when you least expect them to, amigo," Dusty responded. He never had any problem opening up to the bartender.

"Let me take a wild guess. You've been offered work, and more money, somewhere else. Right?" MacNamara asked him. Then teased, "You're always moving up in the world, aren't cha?"

"If you stay stagnant you tend to fizzle out," Dusty laughed and answered his friend's question. "No, nothing that exciting is happening, Travis. To tell the truth, I've met someone I can't get off my mind even though they probably have no business being there cluttering up the crawl space."

"Do I hear the wedding march "dum dum, de dum!" in your future, you sly mongrel?" MacNamara wondered. "You of all people. That would be a shocker around here."

Dusty laughed, "Me? Get married? Spare me the agony. As you know, I never say never. But, matrimony bells are not going to happen in this lifetime."

"Okay, now you've got my curiosity up. But, first, let me go pour these guys another round. You know, make some cashola if I have to," MacNamara told him. He pointed to two customers at the end of the bar, departed, refilled their liquor, and returned to Dusty. "I'm all ears. Squawk. Pocahontas."

"I met this kid panhandling at Walmart on Nolensville Pike and I bought him lunch at McDonald's," Dusty began.

"Holy sh__! You did what?" MacNamara exclaimed stunned by the news relayed to him. "I'm not sure I like the reverberation of where this is going, Dusty. Go ahead and get it off your chest, I guess. Man, you play with fire you're gonna get b-u-r-n-e-d!"

"He's a boy from Hermitage Hall," Dusty admitted.

Concerned for his workmate, MacNamara wanted to know, "The plot sickens, Dusty, but, the question is have you lost your ever-loving gobstopper mind?"

"Maybe I have and perhaps I have not," Dusty responded, "I don't know. I'm not sure."

MacNamara received another request from a money spender. He hurried away to pour a drink. Inquisitively probing, he returned to the conversation he'd left and said, "Continue your tale of woe, Dusty. This ought to be real good. The best joke I've heard in a long time. How could you have possibly gotten yourself wrapped up in such a mess like this? That's all I want to know."

"I only intended, out of the kindness of my heart, to help the kid out with some nourishment. Anyway, he proceeded to tell me quite a story about his past and being an orphan alone in the world. What a doozy his narrative was, too. The kind of stuff Hit Country songs are written about. The problem is. Travis, I believed every word the little elf said. He seemed so sincere he actually cried when he ran out of McDonald's. I don't think he wanted me to see him do that, but I did," Dusty reiterated.

"They all do, Dusty. So, once again I will distinctly ask you are you off your rocker, your meds, or do you have a screw loose in that noggin of yours? Git a grip on reality will you, my friend, before it is way too late? Cause right now, you're so far out there in La La Land some place you'll never get back," MacNamara told him.

"I'm considering fostering him," Dusty confessed.

"Say what? Since when are you, of all the people in this world, willing to sacrifice YOUR freedom? The very freedom you hold so near and dear no one could pry it away from you with a double-edged crowbar, especially for some kid you don't even know. You want my opinion, I think you need a shrink. You've been working much too hard," MacNamara chided him.

"His name is Brett," Dusty commented hearing a noise he did not like. "I need to go look at that squealing woofer." He handed his empty glass to the bartender and stepped down off his stool to attend to the nuisance that distracted him.

As Dusty departed, MacNamara shook his head from side to side and said, "Man, I hope for your sake that's just the whiskey talking and you return back to your senses pronto. Amazing!" He wiped a glass and turned to serve another patron.

Dusty had heard much the same response from others he'd discussed the subject with. Each one of them thought he was making a huge mistake. Every time he asked himself, "It's my error to make, isn't It?" He knew the question required resolution.

(TO BE CONTINUED:)

In Chapter 26, Dusty placed the wheels in motion.