Some years ago, I lived on the ocean side of the Gulf of Mexico. My neighbor was a used car salesman who had built a mansion from a quaint beach ranch house.
One day as I was doing what I always did, fish off my dock, my hat was picked up by a gust of wind and went flying clear over my dock and into his. By some coincidence, now that I think of it, he probably conjured the gust of wind; my neighbor was standing right in front of where my hat landed after it was literally plucked from my head.
I ran over to his side of the yard and jumped over my stone terrace into his yard and I said, “Excuse me!” And bent down to pick up my hat.
He looked straight at me and said, “Do you know how to cook?”
I told him to wait a minute. I got my hat and jumped back over the terrace wall and went straight into my own house. I quickly found a fine cookbook and brought it straight out and gave it to him. He took the book but didn't say another word.
Some time later, he moved. Sometimes later than him, I moved. Our paradise in Florida shattered.
He never spoke to me again.
But, I have a surprise for him, my own cookbook is coming out and the title is, My Mother's Cooking and I have dedicated a few pages on how to cook just for the wind magician.
