On the precipice of birthday, great words from Alabama Whitman Worley still echo: You’re so cool, You’re so Cool, You’re so Cool. On the near-eve of my own birthday, I’m watching the movie I once loved more than Graduate School and even the graduate herself. Highly recommend the director’s cut and alternate ending, especially if it’s been a while.

l had to come all the way from the highways and byways of Tallahassee, Florida to Motor City, Detroit to find my true love. lf you gave me a million years to ponder, l would never have guessed that true romance and Detroit would go together. And to this day, the events that followed all seem like a distant dream. But the dream was real and was to change our lives forever. l kept asking Clarence why our world seemed to be collapsing and everything seemed so shitty. And he’d say: “That’s the way it goes. But don’t forget, it goes the other way too.” That’s the way romance is. Usually that’s the way it goes. But every once in a while, it goes the other way too.

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Amid the chaos of that day when all l could hear was the thunder of gunshots and all l could smell was the violence in the air, l look back and am amazed that my thoughts were so clear and true. That three words went through my mind endlessly. Repeating themselves like a broken record. You’re so cool. You’re so cool. You’re so cool. And sometimes Clarence asks me what would l have done if he had died. lf that bullet had been two inches more to the left. To this, l always smile. As if l’m not going to satisfy him with a response. But l always do. l tell him of how l would want to die. But that the anguish and the want of death would fade like the stars at dawn. And that things would be much like they are now. Perhaps. Except maybe l wouldn’t have named our son… Elvis.