West Cocoa Chat

I have been known by many names in my lifetime. My Mom and Dad would call me Cecil Jr. My friends referred to me as "Beanie" from the "Beanie and Cecil Show." Any one remember "Cecil, the Sea Sick Sea-Serpent?" In my basketball and softball days some called me "CJ." After 28 years of teaching, "Mr. Walker" has become a standard although when students ask, "What can I call you," I usually answer, "Feel free to call me "Your Excellency, your Highness, or the "Absolute Ruler." Many of our friends' kids call me, "Uncle Cecil" while at Bible Camp most call me "Mr. Cecil." My good friend Steve, of whom we've done Bible Camp together for more than a quarter century, refers to me as his "Junior Director" as he believes himself to be the "Senior Director." I love it when Steven calls me "Pops." I'm sure there are some local "club" guys who refer to me with names I won't even mention. Won't they be surprised to see me and our entire church Heaven with them.

But now family, I have a new name. Just call me Norman! Does that mean when I walk into our auditorium at church everyone in the fashion of an opening scene from "Cheers" yells out, "Hey Norm!" No. What it means is I seem to have develop a new spiritual (all the guys who read the brotherhood rags are thinking, "I told you so, can't wait to put this in my church bulletin.") gift. It is the gift of picking the absolute slowest restaurant in Brevard County to eat at after our Weight Watchers meeting.

Our WW meeting is held at our church building. Afterwards, a number of us like sharks to a feeding frenzy, begin to think about where are we going to eat? A few weeks ago I suggested a local place called, "Normans." Wife and I had eaten there before and we found the food to be good as well as the service. I suggested it to our WW group and we ended up at Normans for 2 and a half hours! Being the imposing, intimidating, and commanding respect kind of guy I am, everyone blamed me for the choice and started calling me, "Norman" after said restaurant.

Last night after several weeks of turning the other cheek, I suggested another place. We went and I wish I could say, "We ate," but I can't. Its more like we went and we waited, and waited, and waited. It ended up being another 2 and a half hour ordeal. We were at a Mexican Restaurant and I believe the poor waiter was just getting started in the business, that is, the business of speaking English. We were nice to him and I just ate and drank anything he brought, no matter how wrong it was.

As the rocks beneath us were beginning to materialize into diamonds, we left the restaurant and there were a chorus of, "Way to go Norman" echoing down the night time sky of U.S.1.

I wonder if my gift will work in Malibu?