Now let me talk to you about Seven and Kimberly-ni and them. In case I mention them later, I want you to know who they are.


The and them first. They were the folks I worked with at Aspens. We sold steaks and crabcakes and wine together. And my relations there transcended simple friendships: complicated, smart, multi-faceted relationships for many of my co-workers and me there. It was educational.


Like most tedium, it was more parts misery loves company than parts love. But it was love. Many of us honestly and openly cared for one another. Scott and Matt were little brothers to me, Alexander a best friend. There was Chef – who can’t cover me – and Pretty and Ernesto and Jack and Brett in the kitchen with a band of Immigrants and Freaks. Christy who I pined for, always wished were single. And my dear friends Andrea and Keith who helped me think of my art. And three Cool Js and Christa and Little Baby Dino and GOP and Brandon and a rotating cast of “quality servers” and stoner-dude Bussers – the S.A.s- to be amused by. BP, Big ups. That was and them.


Kimberly-ni was different. She pushed me to do this. She was the first person to really encourage me to write about GEORGIA, to enhance this side of my literary repertoire. I did. Plus, she was there for me a tough time or two, and it meant a lot to me. She’s a good DAWG.


Seven is the UGA we have moved onto – a damn fine young dog. May he live long and prosper. He is one-and-o so far; C. Michigan is next. In numerology, as Black Francis from my favorite college band, Pixies, used to say: “God is seven.”


God Bless and Glory to Ol’ GEORGIA. We are Number One.