Sage!

Originally Posted Monday, October 13, 2014

Since I have been taking no photographs, I've started going through old files, millions of photographs that I have taken but have never touched.  I touched a few yesterday.  There is a lot of wonderful things laying in the vaults. 

I went for the usual brunch with the usual friend at the usual place yesterday afternoon.  We sat at the bar, per usual, and ordered the same things we always order.  It sounds dull, but it is ritual more than a routine and is usually very enjoyable. 

Yesterday a girl who has modeled for this blog was there having drinks with her grandmother who lives only a few blocks from the restaurant.  When I walked by, she reached out and touched my arm.  "Sage!" I said, startled to see her.  She gave me an enthusiastic hug, the kind that people should always give rather than the tepid things that are done out of politeness.  She is a grand girl, a neo-hippie/spiritual/earth mother type who makes candles and potions, things from which she would like to make a living.  She is an easy going and pretty girl who has a three year old daughter.  After high school, she got pregnant but didn't stay with the "baby daddy."  She got married to another man instead.  The husband adopted the daughter legally and became the father, but the marriage did not work out  and they divorced.  Somewhere in the brouhaha, there was a court battle.  The divorced husband was trying to get custody of the adopted daughter.  The baby daddy didn't care much for that.  It was one of the craziest stories I'd ever heard, but like most dramas, it was a lot better to watch than to be in. 

After saying hello and catching up briefly, and after the meeting her grandmother, I went back to sit with my friend. 

Just as we were finishing up brunch, Sage walked over to say goodbye.  She was walking down to the boulevard where her baby daddy and daughter were listening to music.  There was an autumn art festival going on.  My friend, who knows Sage, said we would walk with her.  And so the tale began. 

"So," my friend asked, "are you still living up in Crackerton?" 

"No, I moved.  I'm no good with roommates, I guess."

She had been living with a girl up there whom we had met at brunch a few months prior. 

"Did she fall for you?"

With a little lift to the eyebrow she said, "Yea." 

"So what are you doing now?"

"I just did a paid commercial shoot, an editorial thing for a new clothing line."  She turned and looked at me.  "I don't think I like it, though.  I'm just doing it for a hobby, you know?"

"So what are you going to do?"

"Be human."

"How's that paying?" 

She laughed a little and said, "Well. . . I've got a boyfriend." 

My buddy got on that one, wanted to know everything. 

"He's a retired attorney," she said. 

"Retired!  How old is he?"

Sage paused and looked coy before she spoke.  "Fifty-six." 

Hoots and hollers and a mention of Sugardaddyforme.com.

"No, no. . . I met him at Fetcon."

My buddy and I just looked at one another and grinned. 

"He was just there with some friends," she said but she couldn't help but grin, too. 

"Does he have a little box of tricks?" my buddy asked. 

"If he does, I haven't seen them yet.  He's a nice guy.  He has houses down south and in Kansas City.  He has some older kids.  The sixteen year old daughter doesn't like me." 

"That's odd.  I wonder why?" 

"He dates a lot of younger women, but he says they are usually ditzes.  I'm different, you know.  He says I have substance.  I think his daughter fears I might be the one who stays around." 

I love Sage.  She is one of those girls to whom life just happens.  She told us that baby daddy and adopted daddy were all peaceful now, that her daughter loved them both.  She would keep both of them in her life.

"I know it's unusual, but she has two daddies now."

"Well. . . she might have a third soon, too, right?" 

She looked up at me and thought a moment, mouthed pursed. 

"I don't know.  He's met my daughter.  She knows his name.  I don't know. . . ."  Her voice just kind of trailed off.  I decided not to ask her about the nineteen year old nude yoga boy she had been in love with last time I saw her, the one with whom she wanted to move to a farm in Canada. 

By now we were at the festival and were going in different directions.  Hugs all around and a couple of phone pics to send to friends. 

"See you soon," she said as she headed uptown. 

"Man, thats a sitcom that's just written itself," said my friend.  "You got the young girl dating the older guy she met at Fetcon.  His sixteen year old daughter is out of sorts.  The girlfriend has a daughter with two daddies.  You need to write this.  You should film a pilot and send it to Netflix.  Somebody would buy it.  I'm sure this is how "American Family" started.  You could call it Sage!" 

So here's my treatment.  Let this serve as my copyright.  From what my friend who is an inventor tells me, this is pretty legally tight.  Sooner or later, I need to make some money instead of just giving all my stuff away for free.