Life is Amazing

By John Mihalyo

Live is Amazing is a work of fiction about a well respected member of a small town who is turned to by many to help them with there issues and in return they do their best to give him the respect he deserves.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Jan 29, 2021
• ISBN: 9781098350598

Book preview

Day!

Chapter 1

I have to be crazy. Jake, what’s the matter with you? The thoughts ran through my mind as I sat in my red beach chair looking out at the beautiful Gulf of Mexico. I had to look hard to find a cloud in the blue sky. A slight breeze was blowing, and the waves were starting to get a bit larger. The weather forecast was for rain sometime during the day. Those who are familiar with Florida weather forecasts know not to change their plans based on these reports. The rain may come but not on the entire beach area for the whole day.

Currently, the day I was spending on the beach was about as perfect a day as a guy could want.

I sat absorbing the sun with my feet in the sand. My thoughts went to the fact that soon I would be leaving this paradise to return north, back to my residence in Follansville.

This year, it appeared that it was going to be different. After much thought and after discussions with Laura, my real estate agent, I seriously considered putting my Florida residence up for sale. I really cannot specifically explain why I considered the decision. There were many factors, both pros and cons. After much deliberation, I decided to list the property.

Laura was entertaining offers from prospective buyers. I advised her not to confront me with offers that were not at least a certain monetary level. Low ball bids did not interest me. If I didn’t get my price, I would not do a deal. I did not have to sell.

The next morning, I received a call from Laura advising me that a buyer was willing to pay full list price. I agreed, and the tentative deal was made. There were inspections to be made as well as assurances that the buyer had the financing to make the purchase. I asked for thirty days after the agreement signing to move out, which was agreed to by the buyer. The inspection went well, and the financing was not an issue.

The sale was a go. The unit was being sold with the furnishings. I had only to remove my personal items from the unit and make provisions to transport my Cadillac back to Follansville.

One thing you find out living in a condominium circle is there are no secrets. The neighbors found out quickly that my unit was for sale. The neighbors were all very nice people. They were all most helpful from the first day I moved into the complex. I recall the first day I arrived. It was late afternoon. While walking to my unit, a lady came up to say hello. I introduced myself, and she said her name was Sydney. She said her and her husband, Don, who I later referred to as The Donald after the president, lived in the upper unit just down from my ground-level purchase. I remember it well because she told me she had made a ham and asked, Would you like a sandwich? I thanked her for the offer but declined.

I am going to the store to get some basic items and want to return before it gets too late. I have some unpacking and organizing to do. Thanks again, though. I am sure the ham is really good!

This started a friendly relationship with just about all the neighbors. I say just about all because there were people who lived there, for the entire time I was a resident, who I never saw or met.

The one thing the sale did was allow me up to thirty more days to stay in Florida and enjoy the fun and the sun. I also had more time to bid my farewells to the neighbors.

The condominium circle had a central-heated pool that a certain group of the residents used, weather permitting, which in Florida was almost always except for rain and thunderstorms.

The ritual of going to the pool was just about every day. Brady and his wife, Beverly, were frequent attendees. They were originally from the Boston area, and Brady was a big sports fan. We had many a discussion about whatever season was in action. Beverly sang with a choral group and occasionally voiced a tune quietly while lounging at the pool.

Everyone usually came down at their selected times each day. Every afternoon, you could usually count on Doc making his way to one of the recliner beach chairs that surrounded the pool. He was a retired small-town general practitioner who bragged about how many babies he delivered. He said the town stayed populated thanks to him.

Shortly after, Don would usually come down and prepare two chairs for he and Sydney. Like clockwork, about the time Don finished setting out the towels, Sydney would make her way through the pool fence gates. Don was a true gentleman who displayed that chivalry was not dead.

Not all of my remaining days were at the pool. If I got the urge, I would go to the beach for a few hours then go to one of the local beach bars. The Sea Wind offered three-dollar margaritas in a large fish bowl-type glass. The glass reminded me of the tankards we used to drink beer out of at the Regal Club. After a few hours in the hot sun, the cold tequila concoction was really thirst-quenching. There was not much liquor in the pre-mixed ice-filled glass of liquid. The drink was so sweet that one was usually my limit. The next rounds were draft beer. The bar had an outside area with tables and chairs that overlooked the bay on the inlet side. Lady Jane and I spent many hours occupying the seats and enjoying the view. Homes and condominiums surrounded the water, and many of the owners had boats. They would ride over to the Sea Wind, tie up their crafts, and enjoy a drink or two during happy hour. What a life. Why am I selling out, I keep asking myself?

My Florida residence was not far from St. Petersburg. One of my favorite businesses was a food store, delicatessen, wine shop, gelato stand, coffee bar, bakery named Mazzaro’s. For anyone who has visited the Strip District in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania with its multiple stores that sold just about any kind of food you would want, Mazzaro’s was all of this in one building. What a place. Every deli sandwich they made was delicious. Their wedding soup was like none other. The wine area with mostly Italian wine was fantastic. There was no wonder that I would usually go there at least twice a week. While making my purchases, again, my mind went to why am I moving away?

Upon leaving St. Petersburg, I headed north on I-275. I had only merged from the ramp to the interstate and accelerated up to the speed limit when I looked through my rear-view mirror and saw a car approaching me at a very high rate of speed. He was weaving in and out of the multi-lane road causing the other cars to adjust their driving. This was not an unusual occurrence in Florida. On one occasion, I was in the Fort Lauderdale area on I-95, and a similar situation occurred. I mentioned it to the gift shop employee at the hotel. He just shook his head.

Some of these people are crazy. Possibly high on drugs and they carry guns. Best you not even approach them because they will shoot you.

Thanks for the advice, I replied. I will make a note of it.

No trip to this area would be complete without a diversion on Exit 28 to the Derby Lane Dog Track. The venue provided live dog races numerous times a week plus the simulcast of other dog and horse tracks around the county. I parked the car and upon entering the clubhouse side of the facility, I entered the elevator and was lifted to the fourth floor, which housed the betting windows. There were tables and chairs for the handicapper’s a bar and a food menu. I had been to the location so many times I knew most of the tellers by name. Craig, the one that I was most familiar with, was at his usual window on the far end. I waved and voiced hello to him.

How are you doing today, Craig?

He was very polite and he would reply, Fine, sir, and you?

I nodded back to him saying, always living the dream, Craig. You know me.

The races were already running from the east coast tracks. My plan was to stay for an hour or two making bets based on jockeys, trainers, and the names of the animals. Basically, I was hoping I got lucky. There would be no skill involved in my selections. My goal was to make a few small wagers on an exacta, quinella, or trifecta and hope the track gods would be with me. My first few bets were not