As I entered the restaurant, I spied Brandt standing at the end of the bar nursing a drink and looking slightly bored. He nodded in reply to my greeting. With his long tresses brushed back from his face and his beard and mustaches, he reminded me of General George Armstrong Custer at the Little Bighorn. Brandt just stood there staring like a bump on a log. I supposed he was waiting for me to make the first move. I thought it odd he would present himself in such a half-hearted manner as he had been the one to reach out and suggest meeting. I was discouraged by his lack of spirit. If this attitude continued, it definitely was going to be Brandt’s last stand with me.
The Subject Was Art…
He continued to feign indifference, even after we were seated. It was discomfiting. As a warmup I mentioned the weather and other subjects until I came upon the right one. (Thankfully, I am quite good at the art of conversation.) Finally, I asked him what his passion was. A big smile suddenly lit up his face, and he told me art was his life and whipped out his phone. He showed me pictures of his work and enthusiastically discussed each piece as if it were his beloved. The conversation became engaging and lively. I found myself becoming enamored of Brandt with what turned out to be his easy disposition and charm. He seemed warm, genuine, and intelligent. I was beginning to feel this could go somewhere after all…
To be continued…
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