The Little Frog and Duck Boy In The I.E. Part 6

It's about 70 miles from the Long Beach airport to Murietta, California, home base to the "Little Frog", "Duck Boy" and "She Who Must Be Obeyed" as the L.F. refers to her. As you know by now the "Little Frog" is Alain, my old friend from Fredericksburg. Alain was born in France emigrating to this country when he was 10 years old. He is the sort of person that if his mother had not been ready to come to America, Alain would have come on his own. Ten years in France, another ten years in a French fluent home combined with several years in the Air Force left Alain fluent in French, English and "in a language the clergy do not know."

"Duck Boy" is his 8 year old son, Daniel. It should be self evident how Alain got his nickname but "Duck Boy" is another story, one which I shall inflict upon you in due course. Suffice it to say that Daniel has the same ready smile and devilment in his eye that his father has and they are quite a duo.

"She Who Must Be Obeyed" is Alain's wife, Jeanette, a delightful lady in every respect. I only met Jeanette for a very few minutes during my visit since she was in the hospital recovering from a fairly scary health episode. Knowing Alain as I do I must conclude that "She" is a person of remarkable equanimity. On the other hand I would not want to be the medical provider who told her that she was not yet ready to be released from the hospital when she felt it was time to go. I should note as well that in spite of her health issues, she greeted me as if we had known each other for years. Alain has a way of finding people like that and I think people like that have a way of finding Alain.

After 90 minutes in my very small cobalt blue rented Mitsubishi Something LE (AKA 'my foster car')on California highways, I finally pulled into Alain's driveway, convinced that perhaps there was something worse than flying. At last I was out of the plane and off the road…laissez les bon temps roullez, I had cheated death yet again.

One of the nice things about the 21st Century is that men can hug without feeling totally self conscious. Of course the hug is always punctuated with a hearty rib cracking back slap…just in case anyone is watching. It's best if the back slap is audible as well…just to be sure the hugger and the huggee don't get mistaken for stunt doubles from some show on the Bravo channel.

That's the way Alain and I greeted each other in his driveway that hot southern California afternoon…a fitting punctuation to our nearly 20 year long separation. The hug began two days of random wanderings down Memory Lane…I would not meet Duck Boy until later but damn, it was good to see the Little Frog again.