really looking forward to seeing her two best friends and mother every day for five weeks this summer.
Initially, Sue's enthusiasm far outweighed mine. I have a great many friends in Port Huron, but only one of them is a teacher. Sure, Scott might be good for eighteen every morning—but who would I tee off with in the afternoons?
The more I thought about it, though, the more I liked the idea. My best friend, Tom Garrett, is taking a vacation from his job at the auto plant for the last three weeks of our stay. Tom loves to golf, go to Detroit Tigers games, lie on the beach, and quaff a few cold ones. In my book, the guy is perfect.
When Sue and I go to Port Huron for the weekend, we follow a fairly set routine.
We arrive Friday night at around eight-thirty. We usually go straight to my parents' house and enjoy a leisurely dinner. Then at ten-thirty, we go out to join some of our friends.
Saturday, Sue disappears. She does not save this act exclusively for Port Huron. In the four years we've been married, I've seen her only a dozen times on a Saturday afternoon—always at weddings. I'm not exactly sure where she goes, but it must be somewhere magical because invariably when she returns her shoes appear to have changed color.
While she is AWOL—Absent With Our Loot—I spend the day with Tom. We meet my sister, Cathy, for breakfast at the Thomas Edison Inn at nine o'clock sharp. Depending on what we did Friday night after leaving my parents, this is sometimes not painless.
Tom and Cathy have a curious, combative relationship. They're always teasing and fighting, but it's obvious there's